But he didn't stop. He wanted to find out exactly where his limit lay.
One Skeleton Soldier after another was branded.
Their numbers climbed from dozens to one hundred, from one hundred to two hundred, and from two hundred to three hundred.
With each new batch of Skeleton Soldiers, another thread tugged at Mu Chen's Sea of Consciousness.
Hundreds of threads pulled at his mind all at once. It felt as if hundreds of ants were gnawing at his cerebral cortex.
Mu Chen's breathing grew heavy, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. His face began to pale, his lips pressed into a tight line, and his hands clenched into fists on his knees, his knuckles whitening from the strain.
Three hundred and fifty.
Four hundred.
By the four hundredth, Mu Chen's fingers had begun to tremble slightly.
It wasn't fear or nervousness. His mind was approaching its breaking point. One more thread, and the entire web might snap.
He could feel his Sea of Consciousness churning violently, monstrous waves rising across its surface. Old Tang's golden silhouette watched quietly from afar, while Electrolux's gray orb hovered in the air, silent.
Four hundred and fifty.
Five hundred.
At the five hundredth, he stopped.
It wasn't that he couldn't add more. He could feel that if he gritted his teeth and endured, he might be able to brand dozens more.
But with even one more, he couldn't guarantee absolute control over every Skeleton Soldier. Undead Summoning wasn't a matter of the more, the better. If his control wasn't strong enough, the undead creatures he summoned could run amok and turn on him.
Five hundred was the limit he could perfectly control for now.
Five hundred Skeleton Soldiers stood in formation across the wasteland. Five hundred iron swords were planted in the black earth, and five hundred pale-green Soul Fires flickered beneath the ashen sky, like a strange sea of stars.
They knelt motionless before Mu Chen, waiting for his command.
Electrolux spoke, his voice tinged with mixed emotions. "Five hundred Skeleton Soldiers at the Soul Grandmaster level. Your Undead Legion can now easily wipe out a regular army squad. And you've used less than forty percent of your spiritual power."
Mu Chen wiped the sweat from his forehead. There was no fatigue in his blue eyes, only calm appraisal.
He looked at the ranks of Skeleton Soldiers before him, then lifted his head and gazed past them toward the figures mounted on Skeleton Warhorses on a distant hill.
"There are still Skeleton Knights," he said.
Electrolux gave a wry laugh. "I knew you'd say that. Summoning a Skeleton Knight is more than twice as difficult as summoning a Skeleton Soldier. Their Soul Fires are more concentrated, their wills more resistant, and their mounts require additional spiritual power to maintain. In your current state, are you sure you want to keep going?"
Mu Chen answered with action.
He rose and headed toward the nearest hill. The formation of Skeleton Soldiers parted to make way. Five hundred iron swords withdrew in unison, and five hundred skulls bowed, as if making way for their new master.
The Skeleton Knights on the hill were a head taller than ordinary Skeleton Soldiers.
Their mounts' bones were as thick as tree trunks, and their four hooves left deep impressions in the ground. The knights themselves wore battered armor and carried Bone Spears. Ghostly green Soul Fire burned in the eye sockets beneath their helmets.
As Mu Chen approached, the nearest Skeleton Knight stirred. Its Skeleton Warhorse raised its skull and gave a silent neigh. The knight slowly lifted its spear, its tip aimed at the intruder.
This Skeleton Knight was at the Soul Elder level, a full rank stronger than the Skeleton Soldiers.
Its Soul Fire burned not only with hostility, but also with a hint of wariness and confusion. The Spatial Imprint on the intruder made it uneasy. It clearly carried the aura of its former master, so why was a stranger standing before it?
Mu Chen gave it no time to think.
A thread of spiritual power pierced straight into the Skeleton Knight's Soul Fire. This time, the resistance was fiercer than that of any Skeleton Soldier.
The knight's Soul Fire flared violently, and its spear thrust forward—not with a physical attack, but with a gray-white Soul Shock that raced back along Mu Chen's thread of spiritual power.
Pain stabbed at Mu Chen's brow again. The Soul Shock was several times stronger than the Skeleton Soldiers' resistance, like an icicle driven into his Sea of Consciousness.
But he didn't retreat or let go. His eyes narrowed slightly, a faint golden gleam rising from deep within his pupils. The spiritual boost from the Purple Demon Eye lifted his will to a new level.
He slammed the Will Imprint down.
The Skeleton Knight's mount reared, its forehooves pawing at the air. Its silent neigh brimmed with indignation and fury.
The knight itself gave a silent roar. Its bones clattered beneath its armor, and its Soul Fire surged wildly. Together, knight and mount resisted the imprint, and visible ripples of spiritual power appeared in the air around them.
Mu Chen added another tenth of his spiritual power.
This was a pure clash of wills. There were no Soul Skills, no techniques—only the most primal contest of willpower.
Mu Chen's blue eyes calmly watched the Skeleton Knight's flickering Soul Fire as he pressed his spiritual power down, bit by bit. He had no hesitation, no wavering, and left not a single opening.
After several breaths, the Skeleton Knight's resistance began to weaken. Its Soul Fire slowed from a frantic blaze to a steady flicker. Its spear lowered, and the Skeleton Warhorse's forehooves returned to the ground. The ghostly green light faded from its eye sockets, replaced by pale green—the color of submission.
The first Skeleton Knight had been subdued.
Mu Chen didn't stop. He turned and headed for the next one.
One Skeleton Knight after another received a Will Imprint. Each knight resisted harder than the last. Their Soul Fires held something akin to pride—the pride of knights who refused to bow even after falling on the battlefield. But before Mu Chen's will, that pride was crushed one by one, and turned into loyalty.
Ten.
Thirty.
Seventy.
One hundred.
By the hundredth, Mu Chen had used nearly seventy percent of his spiritual power.
His steps began to falter, his temples throbbed, and his avatar in the Undead Half-Plane started to flicker faintly—the signs that his spiritual power was nearly exhausted.
Still, he didn't stop.
Beyond the distant hill, even more Skeleton Knights waited. They stood in formation in the mist like an Undead Cavalry Legion that had slept for millennia. Mu Chen walked toward them without hurry, each step steady.
One hundred and thirty.
One hundred and seventy.
Two hundred.
At two hundred, Mu Chen finally stopped. Less than twenty percent of his spiritual power remained. If he kept summoning, he would damage the foundations of his Sea of Consciousness. He stood at the hill's highest point and turned to look at the Undead Army behind him.