Northern outskirts of the Ancient Capital, temporary quarters for the villagers of Luohua Village.
Piercing howls echoed from nearby, like death knells urging them on, plunging the entire village into despair.
Village chief Xie Sang leaned on his cane as he stood atop the earthen wall at the entrance, gazing at the dozens of undead surging toward them. His clouded eyes brimmed with tears.
"Village Chief, th-they're about to break in!"
A young villager trembled from head to toe, barely able to hold onto the farm tool in his hands.
Xie Sang drew a deep breath, his voice hoarse yet carrying a trace of stubbornness.
"Don't be cowards! Even if we die, we can't let these monsters harm the elderly and children of the village!"
But his words lacked all conviction.
Fu Ye had already arrived, watching everything with an indifferent expression.
All the Military Mages had been deployed elsewhere. Among these people, the strongest was merely him, an Intermediate Mage of the earth element, and they did not even have any decent magical equipment.
If he had not moved them from Luohua Village to the Ancient Capital, they would have long since become dead souls.
All one could say was that heaven watched over what people did.
Xie Sang had certainly been in the wrong, but his decision had also been made for the sake of his own village's residents.
As a transmigrator with a god's-eye view, Fu Ye naturally knew everything that had happened in Yangyang Village.
No one had expected that after Yangyang Village's Kun Jing Water dried up, Fang Gu, who had always been mild-tempered, would completely lose his mind.
Back then, Fang Gu had led his villagers everywhere in search of help, but the five nearby villages had all shut their doors against them, fearing