The Undead Army

But he did not stop; he wanted to find out where his true limits lay.

Skeleton Soldier after Skeleton Soldier was branded.

The number grew from dozens to one hundred, from one hundred to two hundred, from two hundred to three hundred.

With every new batch of Skeleton Soldier added, the tension of a thread increased within Mu Chen's Sea of Consciousness.

Hundreds of threads tugged at his consciousness simultaneously, a sensation akin to hundreds of ants gnawing at his cerebral cortex.

Mu Chen's breathing grew heavy, and fine beads of sweat seeped from his forehead. His face turned pale, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his hands clenched into fists on his knees, his knuckles turning white from the strain.

Three hundred and fifty.

Four hundred.

By the four-hundredth, Mu Chen's fingers began to tremble slightly.

It was not out of fear or nervousness, but because the mental load was approaching a critical point; one more thread, and the entire web might snap.

He could feel his Sea of Consciousness surging violently, massive waves rising on its surface. Old Tang's golden silhouette watched everything quietly from afar, while Electrolux's gray orb of light hovered in the air, silent.

Four hundred and fifty.

Five hundred.

At the five-hundredth, he stopped.

It was not that he could not add more; he could feel that if he gritted his teeth and pushed, he might be able to brand a few dozen more.

But with even one more, he could not guarantee absolute control over every single Skeleton Soldier. Undead Summoning was not a matter of "the more, the better"; if control was insufficient, the summoned undead creatures would break free and turn against their master.

Five hundred was the limit of what he could perfectly control for now.

Five hundred Skeleton Soldier stood in neat formation across the wasteland, five hundred iron swords thrust into the black earth, five hundred pale green Soul Fire flickering under the dim sky like a bizarre sea of stars.

They knelt silently before Mu Chen, motionless, awaiting his command.

Electrolux's voice rang out, carrying a hint of complex emotion: "Five hundred Soul Grand Master level Skeleton Soldier—your Undead Legion is now capable of easily annihilating a regular military squad. And you have consumed less than forty percent of your mental power."

Mu Chen wiped the sweat from his forehead. There was no exhaustion in his blue eyes, only a calm, analytical gaze.

He looked at the orderly phalanx of Skeleton Soldier before him, then raised his head, his gaze passing over them to land on the figures riding Skeleton Warhorse on the distant hills.

"There are still Skeleton Knight," he said.

Electrolux gave a wry laugh: "I knew you would say that. The difficulty of summoning a Skeleton Knight is more than double that of a Skeleton Soldier. Their Soul Fire is more condensed, their will to resist is stronger, and their mounts require additional mental power to maintain. Are you sure you want to continue in your current state?"

Mu Chen answered the question with his actions.

He stood up and walked toward the nearest hill. The Skeleton Soldier phalanx automatically parted to create a path; five hundred iron swords were retracted in unison, and five hundred skulls bowed, as if making way for their new master.

The Skeleton Knight on the hill were a head taller than the ordinary Skeleton Soldier.

The bones of their mounts were as thick as tree trunks, their hooves leaving deep impressions in the ground. The knights themselves wore tattered armor, held a Bone Spear, and had dim green Soul Fire burning in the sockets beneath their helmets.

As Mu Chen approached, the nearest Skeleton Knight moved. The Skeleton Warhorse raised its skull and let out a silent neigh, the knight's spear rising slowly to point its tip at the intruder.

The strength of this Skeleton Knight was at the Soul Elder level, a full tier stronger than the Skeleton Soldier.

Its Soul Fire burned not only with hostility but also with a hint of wariness and confusion. The Spatial Imprint on the intruder left it bewildered; it was clearly the aura of its old master, so why was a stranger standing before it?

Mu Chen did not give it time to think.

A thread of mental power pierced precisely into the Skeleton Knight's Soul Fire. This time, the resistance was more intense than that of any previous Skeleton Soldier.

The knight's Soul Fire flickered violently, and the spear thrust out suddenly—not a physical attack, but a gray-white Soul Shock that surged back along Mu Chen's mental thread.

A sharp pain struck the center of Mu Chen's brow again. That Soul Shock was several times stronger than the resistance of a Skeleton Soldier, like an ice pick stabbing into his Sea of Consciousness.

But he did not retreat, nor did he withdraw. His blue eyes narrowed slightly, a faint golden light emerging from the depths of his pupils. The mental enhancement of the Purple Demon Eye elevated his willpower to a new level.

The Will Imprint slammed down hard.

The Skeleton Knight's mount reared up, its front hooves pawing the air, its silent neigh filled with resentment and fury.

The knight itself let out a silent roar, its bones clattering beneath its armor, its Soul Fire pulsing frantically. The two combined to resist the imprint, and visible ripples of mental energy even appeared in the surrounding air.

Mu Chen added ten percent more mental power.

This was a pure contest of will—no soul skills, no techniques, only the most primitive clash of willpower.

Mu Chen's blue eyes watched the flickering Soul Fire of the Skeleton Knight calmly, pressing all his mental power onto it, bit by bit. There was no hesitation, no wavering, and not a single opening to exploit.

After a few moments, the Skeleton Knight's resistance began to wane. The frequency of its Soul Fire's flickering shifted from violent to steady, the spear lowered slowly, and the Skeleton Warhorse's front hooves returned to the ground. The dim green light faded from its eye sockets, replaced by the pale green that symbolized submission.

The first Skeleton Knight, subdued.

Mu Chen did not stop. He turned and walked toward the next one.

One by one, the Skeleton Knight were branded with the Will Imprint. Each knight's resistance was more difficult than the last; their Soul Fire contained something akin to pride—the pride of a knight who refused to bow even after dying on the battlefield. But before Mu Chen's will, this pride was eventually crushed one by one, transformed into loyalty.

Ten.

Thirty.

Seventy.

One hundred.

By the time he reached the hundredth, Mu Chen had already exhausted nearly seventy percent of his mental energy.

His footsteps began to falter, his temples throbbed rhythmically, and his avatar within the Undead Half-Plane began to flicker—a sign that his mental energy was nearing depletion.

Yet, he did not stop.

Behind the hills in the distance, there were even more Skeleton Knight. They stood in formation amidst the mist, like an Undead Cavalry Legion that had slumbered for thousands of years. Mu Chen's pace toward them was not fast, but every step was steady.

One hundred and thirty.

One hundred and seventy.

Two hundred.

When he reached two hundred, Mu Chen finally stopped. With less than twenty percent of his mental energy remaining, continuing the summoning would risk damaging the foundation of his Sea of Consciousness. He stood at the highest point of the hill, turned around, and looked at the army of the dead behind him.