"Reporting, my lord, we were ready long ago. There are 472 people in the entire town, all willing to pay any price. As long as they can fight the evil spirits, they will have no regrets even in death!"
"They are waiting at the training grounds of the military camp outside."
"If you wish to summon them, they can come to the hall at any time," the mustached general reported.
"Then have them all come," Wu Heng said softly.
"Yes!"
A large group of strong young men all entered the hall. After Wu Heng asked them once more for their decision, sixty of them grew fearful.
In this era, carrying on the family line was regarded as extremely important. It represented a family's inheritance, the continuation of its bloodline, and the survival of the entire clan.
Many of them had been instilled with this way of thinking since childhood.
So there was nothing particularly strange about it.
As for the remaining 412, some hated evil spirits, some had lost family members to sacrifice, and some had seen through the cycle of life and death.
In any case, they chose to accept this power.
Wu Heng muttered an Incantation over the powder spread across the tabletop, and gusts of sinister wind rose within the hall.
A mournful wailing echoed endlessly through the room.
The wind seemed to carry the sharpness of flesh and blood, making those standing in the hall feel as though they had been completely seen through, their souls and flesh laid bare.
An intense sense of shame welled up in their hearts, yet they had to remain standing with solemn expressions.
The black sand-like Marrow Rot was swept up by the sinister wind, forming visible streams of black gusts that circled ceaselessly around them.
Under Wu Heng's Incantation,