Breaking Into a Necrophage Party

"The situation in Kedwen isn't good..."

Vesemir led his dark-colored mare in a line along the muddy path, his expression a mixture of emotions.

Ailin glanced back.

Beyond the seven demon hunters disguised as mercenaries, trembling yet with excitement gleaming in their eyes, lay a long wooden bridge.

Merchants, mercenaries, doctors, refugees, and others travel across the wooden bridge.

The wounded.

One carriage after another, all filled with heavily wounded soldiers wrapped in bandages.

Some had severed hands or feet, others suffered broken bones or serious injuries, and some even had large dents in their skulls...

The wheels bounced on the muddy ground, and the wounded man on the carriage trembled along with them, trembling lifelessly.

If it weren't for the ability to observe the rise and fall of the chest during breathing, who could tell whether these carriages were for transporting corpses or for carrying the wounded?

Although the information I gathered was varied, with both positive and negative results, Vesemir was right.

This appearance clearly doesn't suggest someone who has won a battle.

"You could tell a few days ago, couldn't you?" Ailin looked down at the road, dodging piles of animal dung.

Vesemir sighed, not denying it. "I wonder how many more people have died on the front lines?"

The School of the Wolf has always adhered to neutrality, and their presence can be seen throughout the Northern Continent as they eliminate monsters.

But the witchers of Kedwen have clearly shed the most sweat and blood on this very land.

How could there be no feelings?

Unfortunately, the people of this land have become increasingly estranged from, and even hostile to, the schools of thought, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

The group then proceeded to the next checkpoint.

Soldiers stood at the far end, in front of a pine fence, checking the passing crowds; the security was tight.

However, Ailin and Vesemir remained unmoved and continued on their way with a caravan carrying grain and provisions.

These days, the witchers have already witnessed Kedwen's "heavy security".

There were many checkpoints and quite a few soldiers conducting inspections.

At first, the Witcher was really frightened by this, thinking that he would have to go around a big circle from outside the battle lines to reach Fugen.

But after observing it a few times, I gradually discovered...

Despite their large numbers, both the intensity of patrols on the front lines and the attitude of the soldiers at the checkpoints were surprisingly lax.

For example, right now.

"Who are you? What do you do?"

The bearded officer, holding parchment and a quill, had barely uttered his habitual question when, seeing the weapons and leather armor of Vesemir, Ailin, and the other witchers behind them, he waved his hand without waiting for their reply:

"Mercenaries, huh? Hurry up and get out of the way, don't block other people's way."

Not a single word needs to be said.

The School of the Wolf "mercenaries" were then allowed into the checkpoint under the watchful eyes of a group of soldiers.

It is worth mentioning.

Beside the pine fence, atop the oak corner tower, two or three wizards didn't even glance down.

Of course, even if these low-ranking sorcerers examined it, they wouldn't be able to see through the illusion created by the mirage bead.

However, this reveals the frontline's thirst for soldiers, the conflict between the new king and the sorcerer, and the king's ability to control his nobles.

After passing through the pass, they quietly separated from the main force heading to the military camp.

Before they had gone far, the scars of war lay starkly across the land.

Corpses hung from trees, black smoke billowed from villages, and bodies lay scattered on the ground—soldiers, farmers, men, women, and children, some clothed, some naked...

Less than a hundred meters away, it felt like stepping into hell.

Having barely made it through the checkpoint with bated breath, the young demon hunters, who had been exceptionally excited, fell silent upon seeing this scene, and the atmosphere became heavy.

This slowed down their journey.

At first, they found one or two corpses, and all the witchers took the initiative to dig pits and bury them. Later, they only buried women, the elderly, and children. Then they entered a village that had been burned down and found ruins with embers still burning and villagers who had died tragically.

The witcher stood at the village entrance, stared silently for a few moments, then reluctantly turned back and walked around the devastated ruins.

Horton's fate is still unknown, and he may be pursued by men from Ben Ade...

Human resources are limited.

His gaze unconsciously darted away from the corpses lining the road, and Ailin asked, "We're not at the border of Kedwen and Ard yet, are we?"

"Hmm." Vesemir nodded. "The place we just passed through is called Aris. Before the war, the entire village made its living by supplying food and fodder to the Ban Green Fortress on the border between the two countries..."

"So... yes, this is still Kedwen."

"Strange," Ailin frowned. "They've already reached the territory of Kedwen. Ard should have the upper hand on the front lines."

Why would Horton ask us for help?

"Was Fergen really surrounded by Kedwen's army, as he claimed in his letter?"

Vesemir's hand, which was holding the reins, paused, and he frowned.

"Could it be because Kedwen had the upper hand at the start of the war?"

"Ard was the one who started the war," Ailin thought for a moment and denied. "You've forgotten that we were almost besieged in Vengerberg. Back then, Ard was imprisoning the mercenaries and idlers in the city and sending them to the battlefield."

"At the same time, Kedwen was also dealing with the funeral arrangements in Haxor and busy crowning the new king."

"And..."

Ailin glanced around:

"Fergen is not too far from Kaer Morhen; a carrier pigeon can reach it in two days at most."

"But these marks couldn't have been created in just ten days or half a month."

"Kedwen was probably caught off guard at the very beginning of the war and then pushed all the way to this place..."

"That makes sense." Vesemir paused for a moment before agreeing. "But whether Horton lied or not, and why he lied, is no longer important. The Smuggler's Trail is not far ahead, and we'll reach Fugen in another half day. We'll know then."

After a pause, Vesemir glanced at the young witchers behind him and lowered his voice to add:

"When the time comes, we'll be careful and have Ernie and the others find a place to hide first."

Ailin could only nod in response.

Yes!

What can we do?

Since we're already here...

This is what information stagnation looks like.

Kaer Morhen, though it was like a paradise when the war broke out.

However, the fact that the Ancient Sea Fortress was entirely dependent on news of the returning Witcher made it a complete island.

Even a potentially problematic SOS request must be verified across thousands of miles.

"We must find a way to bypass the rigid neutrality principle of the school of thought as soon as possible and establish an intelligence system for the School of the Wolf," Ailin frowned, thinking to himself, "The experience of going through all this trouble to verify a false message is just awful!"

Just as Erin was Ailin how to establish an intelligence system within the School of the Wolf, which had fewer than a hundred members, the wind suddenly shifted.

The next second.

Ailin and Vesemir simultaneously sniffed and looked up sharply.

A strong, pungent smell of blood, mixed with a foul stench, wafted from the east.

The two Witcher Master immediately recognized that this was not the smell of corpses left over from an ordinary battlefield.

Perception was immediately unrestricted, and hearing quickly became acute.

"Someone is calling for help!"

Vesemir cried out in surprise, pulled on the reins and turned, and in an instant, amidst the neighing of the horses, rushed into the woods on the east side.

Ailin and several other witchers followed closely behind.

The wind whistled past my ears, and the low birch trees were swept past one by one in a flash.

The stench of blood, mixed with a foul smell, grew stronger.

"The blood of the living... the stench of ghouls... there are Ghoul ..." Ailin shouted back.

Upon hearing this, all the witchers simultaneously took out blood-red Necrophage Oil from the reagent pouches at their waists, and skillfully drew their silver swords to apply it while on the rapidly jolting backs of their horses.

Vesemir turned around and looked at him in surprise.

Because of the concentration of the smell in the wind, he could only tell that the blood smell was still fresh and the stench came from carnivorous creatures, but he couldn't identify the specific type of monster.

"Ailin has gotten stronger again!" Vesemir thought to himself.

"Ah—" A piercing female scream tore through the sky, startling the birds in the forest.

The Witcher unconsciously squeezed his legs together again and sped up once more.

"Damn monster, get away from me..."

"Mommy! Mommy!"

"Sally... Doya, hide quickly... Ah—"

The sound gradually became clearer, occasionally interspersed with the strange noises of balloons exploding.

These strange noises were followed by chilling screams.

"Rotfiend!" Vesemir's solemn face, ruffled by the strong wind, whirled around and shouted, "Disable Igni!"

"Yes, Master Vesemir!" the young witcher replied immediately.

Rotfiend are carnivorous creatures that often appear in groups on battlefields, in the sewers of plague-stricken cities and towns, or near villages suffering from famine.

Even seasoned witchers are reluctant to face hordes of these ghouls.

Because their rotting bodies are filled with poisonous gas, even witchers who are immune to many toxins are not immune.

More importantly, this poisonous gas is highly flammable, and any spark could trigger a massive explosion.

As is widely known.

The range of a typical Witcher's Igni Sign is very short; if one is not careful, they can fall into the Rotfiend's explosion.

However, even without using Igni, the Rotfiend will automatically explode after it dies, and it will leave no materials behind. These points are extremely disgusting for Witchers with their very short attack range.

Of course.

Neither Vesemir nor Ailin are ordinary witchers.

"Ailin, let's use Igni to take care of all the Rotfiend first, and then deal with the other monsters!"

"Knew."

The moment Ailin nodded in agreement, a light suddenly appeared from among the trees in front of him.

"Whoosh~"

The birch branches and leaves rustled wildly in the gale whipped up by the Witcher.

Arrive!

The stench of blood and decay became a thousand times stronger.

Several witchers arrived at a depression.

Everywhere you look, there are broken flags, rusty longswords, shields and armor painted with various family crests, and even many carriages with broken axles...

This is an old battlefield.

There was a battle here, but it ended at least two weeks ago.

One week to one month is the cooking time that most ghouls prefer, resulting in a strong rotten flavor, but still with plenty of meat left to eat.

Good heavens!

How utterly ignorant must a convoy of cars be to dare to travel in the countryside in such a large group to go through this area?

After mentally grumbling a few times, Ailin gazed into the distance from his galloping horse; the battle was taking place on the other side of the battlefield.

"Um?"

Ailin seemed to see a very familiar figure.

Unsure... Let me take another look...

"Ghoul, Rotfiend..."

"Damn it!" the Witcher couldn't help but curse.

There was indeed an old friend on the distant battlefield.

What he remembered most was its Big Head, massive size, and black spikes covering its body; more importantly, the "wonderful memory" of Ailin racing it for nearly an hour...

"Damn it! There's Giant Ghoul." Vesemir's face immediately turned ugly.

This cunning monster did not join the battle at this time, but instead wandered around the outer perimeter of the battlefield.

Under his command, the Ghoul and Rotfiend resembled a well-trained army.

"So many ghouls!" the young witcher exclaimed, unconsciously slowing down.

There are indeed many.

Looking around, Ailin saw at least forty or fifty Ghoul, a dark and red mass, along with about fifteen Rotfiend, and several carriages in front of him that had been blown to pieces.

At the beginning, the number of Rotfiend might even exceed twenty-five.

to be honest.

If it were just Ailin and Vesemir here, no matter how chivalrous they were or how much they adhered to their duties as witchers, they would have turned tail and run.

But now...

Ailin glanced back at the team he had led.

Name: Ernie

Loyalty: 100

[Attributes: Strength 16, Agility 10, Constitution 14, Perception 18, Mysticism 8]

[Skills: School of the Wolf Two-Handed Sword LV3 (1/1000), Ice Lance Spell LV2 (7/500), Quen LV3 (1/1000)↑...]

Although they didn't find many Ghoul along the way, the rampant water ghosts were more than enough. Even without deliberately hunting them, the group managed to clear out about a hundred water ghosts.

The attributes might not have improved much because the Drowner Heart Essence Fluid was already maxed out, but the more than 1,000 Combat Points gained by the Witcher Company were all spent on Ernie and Klar's Quen Sign.

Led by them, the young demon hunters, who had trained and honed their skills over the past six months, formed a battle formation that was more than capable of holding off dozens of Ghoul. Even if any unexpected situation arose, the LV3 Quen could hold out for a while.

Moreover, the opposing convoy also had quite a few well-equipped guards...

"We can fight!"

Vesemir and Ailin exchanged a glance and nodded.

Now that the decision to attack has been made, the next question is how to attack.

"The Giant Ghoul is cunning and cowardly, and will not attack easily, but it should not be the first target either, lest this monster summon other ghouls to attack in a swarm..."

Under Vesemir's encouraging gaze, Ailin made careful arrangements:

"Ernie, Klar, you and the others, maintain formation and only attack the Ghoul. If you encounter the Rotfiend or Giant Ghoul, dodge and do not engage..."

"Understood!" Ernie and Klar responded.

"Master Vesemir," Ailin tilted his head, "We'll use Igni to clear out the Rotfiend first, and then focus on the Giant Ghoul ..."

"Okay!" Vesemir nodded, then suddenly remembered something and asked:

"After we take down the other ghouls, the Giant Ghoul will definitely run away. Aren't you going to hunt it anymore?"

"Don't worry, it can't escape!" Ailin smiled confidently upon hearing this.

The Monster Hunting Legion is counting on it for Combat Points, attributes, and treasure chests!

The Witcher turned around and glanced intently at the monster covered in black spikes.