Chapter 402

Bone-hard Locke wouldn't wrap himself up tightly—what's the point of being bone-hard if you don't show your bones? Besides, there wouldn't be so many bone-hard ones if that were the case.

Where did this lich come from, daring to impersonate Bone-hard Locke?

Du Luo silently replied: "Oh, so you're Mayor Locke. Your fame drifts like a gentle breeze—I've heard of you many times in Desert Town. Pleased to meet you."

"Hahaha, really? Does it spread this far?" 'Bone-hard Locke' asked in delight, utterly unaware that a fame like a breeze was incredibly 'light'.

He then explained: "I went to check on the Undead Flood—wasn't in town, my apologies. With so many esteemed guests visiting our Godfall Town, you absolutely must honor me by letting me fulfill my duty as host."

Du Luo's expression shifted: "Many? Before us, who else visited here?"

"Oh, the masters from the Fire Carnelian Mage Tower. Too bad they came and went too quickly—no time to visit my home." Locke's tone was dull; likely not because they were rushed, but because no one accepted his invitation.

Tina was indeed prickly—if Ang's nature hadn't been even more unbearable and thus subdued her, she'd have made others suffer terribly.

Du Luo and Nagele exchanged thoughts and gladly accepted Locke's invitation.

The town wasn't large anyway; Locke led the way, guiding everyone toward the town's end.

Along the way, every resident who saw Locke greeted him warmly, standing still to watch him depart, and Locke kept responding to them.

"Mayor Locke is deeply beloved by everyone," Du Luo praised.

"Heh, of course. Since their great-great-great-grandparents, I've watched them grow up—several even peed on my neck." Locke spoke kindly.

"Uh… that does make you lovable…," Du Luo chuckled awkwardly. So this was the kind of love—probably if they didn't love him, they'd get whipped by their parents when they got home.

With undead nearby, this sort of thing happens easily—one skeleton spans three generations, one zombie changes dynasties.

Locke's home stood at the very end of Godfall Town, nestled in the angle between lake and rock, built against the mountain, one side facing water, its structure fused with the cliff—easy to defend, hard to breach.

Twenty meters above, a platform once served as a defensive bulwark, complete with battlements and arrow slits—but now it held several fishing rods extending down into the lake.

On the side away from the lake, the arrow slits were filled with pots of flowers—a retired, idle elder's style.

Yet the heavy drawbridge at the entrance still proved this was a fortress easy to defend, hard to take.

Several maids greeted Locke's return. Along both sides of the entrance hallway, every few meters stood a rack holding a skeleton. As Ang and the others passed, the skeletons ignited soul-fire, their eye sockets tracking their movement.

After observing with interest for a while, Du Luo suddenly asked: "By the way, Mayor Locke, why are you called Bone-hard Locke?"

Locke replied proudly: "This name is etched into my soul—from the moment I was born, it was carved into my soul, and will accompany me through my glorious life."

"Oh, I see. From your tone, does this name have some origin?" Du Luo asked, his impression of Locke greatly improved—he wasn't impersonating Bone-hard Locke, but rather 'inheriting' it.

The uniqueness of the soul manifests even more distinctly among undead—powerful beings, even after death, leave traces that don't vanish.

If their soul fragments scatter and give rise to new souls, those newborn souls often carry fragmented memories. This phenomenon is common.

According to Locke's account, he was likely born from fragments of Bone-hard Locke's soul, hence knowing the name from the moment of his birth.

Locke said: "This name comes from a mighty Lord of Mourning, who came from another realm, undefeated in battle, fearless and loyal. To bear this name is my honor."

"Oh, that's truly impressive—a Lord of Mourning, such a rare existence," Du Luo feigned awe.

Locke agreed wholeheartedly: "Indeed. Since the Undead King broke through to Mourning, no soul has broken through to Mourning in many years."

Thud! Du Luo and Nagele both recoiled inwardly. Du Luo asked calmly: "You say Bone-hard Locke's name comes from a Lord of Mourning—does that mean the Undead King is Bone-hard Locke?"

"Oh no, no—already said, Bone-hard Locke came from another realm. Outside, he was a Lord of Mourning, but here, his power is restricted, never able to break through. Only the Undead King succeeded." Locke explained.

At this moment, maids brought drinks and fruit. Locke hurriedly invited: "Come, come—this is lake snow juice, local specialty, and desert jujubes. Hope you like them."

Ang, who had been bored enough to drift into slumber, perked up at the words "desert jujubes," and turned his head.

Desert jujubes were the primary crop in Hope Oasis and throughout the desert—high sun exposure, high starch content, filling.

But a single glance at the jujubes presented by the maids revealed they were misshapen—whether due to variety or environment, they clearly held more moisture. Ang pinched one open, squeezed the juice, and found it thickened quickly—indicating high sugar content.

Such jujubes could serve as fruit, but not as staple food; they were also much smaller.

Seeing Ang hold the jujube without eating, Locke asked puzzled: "Guest, doesn't this suit your taste? I can bring something else."

He clapped his hands, summoning a maid, and added: "I don't eat, so I don't know what's tasty or not. If it doesn't suit you, please don't take offense."

Ang tilted his head.

Du Luo quickly interjected: "Mayor Locke, you misunderstand—we aren't human, so we can't eat."

As he spoke, Du Luo revealed his soul. If Locke were a fraud impersonating Bone-hard Locke, Du Luo wouldn't have exposed his identity.

He might even have taught him a lesson, to prevent him from tarnishing Bone-hard Locke's name.

But now it seemed Locke wasn't an imposter—he'd said his name was inherited from a mighty Lord of Mourning, just like naming a child after a hero.

"Lich!" Locke leapt from his chair, stunned at Du Luo.

What shocked him wasn't the lich—but that he'd sensed nothing abnormal about Du Luo, mistaking him for a human.

Undead emit soul fluctuations, yet he'd perceived none—was he blind? Or had the other concealed himself too well?

Either way, it proved the other's power far exceeded his expectations.

But Du Luo showed no hostility. Locke stared, uncertain, then hesitantly asked: "Did you just reincarnate?"

"Oh, you're wondering why my flesh hasn't hardened?" Du Luo instantly saw his confusion and smiled: "I've mastered a secret art that revitalizes a lich's flesh, keeping me in this living state."

"Ssshh—you're joking? You're not joking?" Locke involuntarily stepped forward, hands reaching out as if to touch Du Luo, then remembered himself and hastily pulled back, embarrassed.

Du Luo extended his arm generously: "Go ahead, touch it. Won't lose a hair."

Locke hesitantly patted a few times, then poked with his finger, astonished: "It's just like living flesh—come, touch it, is it warm?"

He had a maid touch it; she confirmed it was cold—but Locke was already thrilled: "Can this secret art be applied to others?"

Du Luo smiled knowingly—the fish had bitten. Gathering materials for the teleportation array would take them ages, unfamiliar with the land. With a local mayor's help, it'd go much faster.

"Of course. But…" Du Luo feigned difficulty: "It requires many materials—I don't even know where to buy some."

Locke exclaimed: "The House of the Departed! What materials can't you get there? Tell me exactly what you need—I might get them. If I can get the materials, will you perform this art on me?"

Du Luo silently noted "House of the Departed," then said: "Of course. As long as you cover the cost, we're happy to help—helping others is the source of joy."

Du Luo's eagerness made Locke uneasy. "Helping others is the source of joy"? Who was he fooling? Robbing was the real source.

"Can this art really be used on others?" Locke asked hesitantly.

Du Luo smiled: "We still have a little material—enough to revitalize a patch about this big." He gestured a palm-sized area. "Why not try it yourself?"

"Yes!" This was exactly what Locke hoped for—what's more direct than firsthand experience?

He swept his hand over his head; his soul-helm retracted, revealing a clean, delicate but shriveled, cracked face: "Try here."

"Uh… you're a woman?" Du Luo was surprised.

"My body was once human female. I'm native undead—no gender. Don't mind it." Locke dismissed it.

Liches reborn from humans retain gender awareness, but native undead, born as undead, have no concept of gender.

Yet over time, living within a body long enough, influenced by others with gender concepts, liches unconsciously lean toward their body's gender—becoming more like men or women.

Like Lan—she was reborn from a soul-vessel, forgot all memories, thus a native undead, shouldn't have gender—but now she's firmly lived as a female lich.

Du Luo gestured to Ang: "Let my master perform this art himself."

Ang cast Cleanse Visage, pressing it onto Locke's face.

But the moment Cleanse Visage appeared, Locke's expression shattered: "Holy magic! You damn dogs of the Light—you dare ambush me? Die!" He punched out.