Spreading

"Other ghosts have to kill people to survive. Killing is the only way to sustain themselves." Wang Yuan thought, "And every time they kill someone, they absorb the dead person's hatred and resentment. If that continues, the ghosts will only grow more vicious."

"Of course, it's more likely that a ghost won't even be able to kill a single person." Wang Yuan floated lightly around the corpse, absorbing its White Qi. Even now, killing someone would be extremely difficult for him without the crows' help.

He had to get extremely close to his target, then use his own White Qi to counter the other person's White Qi, which carried their own will. Finally, he had to use his weak Interference Force to interfere with the person's vulnerable internal organs. If the target was strong and robust, even that might not be enough to kill them.

"So it's really hard for ghosts to grow stronger." Wang Yuan wondered what to do with the seven people left. Killing them all would be a waste, but he couldn't absorb their White Qi without risking contamination from the dead's negative emotions.

"The reason I was contaminated was that the person's final emotions as I absorbed them were pain, resentment, and hatred." Wang Yuan thought of a certain kind of person. "But what if they died feeling calm, or even happy?"

"That might be workable." Wang Yuan recalled some information from the memories of the person he had absorbed. "Negary, the god of disease and ill fortune?"

"Judging from this person's memories, the system hadn't lied. This really is a low-magic world." Wang Yuan believed gods existed. After all, he had transmigrated, so the existence of gods wasn't far-fetched. But he didn't believe a low-magic world like this could have gods.

"After all, it can't be like Sakura Country, where a single region has eight million gods."

According to this person's memories, the people of this world were divided into many races based on where they lived. They were Kexi People, for example, and they gave everything a divine name. There was Negary, who represented disease and ill fortune; the Goddess Menas, who represented bad luck; and the Goddess of Twigs, who represented new life. There were many other gods, too, each representing something they might encounter.

Most of these people were only casual believers. For example, deer were said to be messengers of the goddess of good fortune, Riels. Legend had it that anyone who killed a deer would be forsaken by Riels, who would then point them out to her younger sister, Menas. But if you put a deer in front of the hunting party now, would they kill it or not?

When it didn't affect them personally, they would observe certain "gods'" taboos. But as soon as their own interests were at stake, they stopped caring.

"So the experienced older members of the group have to die," Wang Yuan thought.

Some people's faith followed a cyclical pattern. As youths, they might still feel some reverence for these things. But after experiencing more of life, they would realize it was all false. Interestingly, when people grew old, they would start paying attention to such things again.

"There's only one thing I need to do: break them, then bring them under my control." Wang Yuan was quick to learn. That was exactly what the system had done to him. It had broken him and taken control of his life and his protagonist's halo. Now, if he wanted to survive—and live better—he would have to do the same.

Hearing the commotion gradually rising in the distance, Wang Yuan ordered the crows still pecking at the corpse to fly away, then waited quietly beside it.

Now that Wang Yuan's Soul Body was more complete, he could sense the bacteria inside the crows more clearly. He could feel them constantly mutating, which took a great deal of energy from the crows and kept them eating almost all the time.

"If this keeps up, the crows really won't live much longer." Wang Yuan waited in silence. "I need to get stronger—much stronger!"

Before long, the hunting party arrived with their weapons. When they saw the corpse, now disfigured beyond recognition, the flickering torchlight cast shifting shadows across Dax's bearded face.

Over the years, members of the hunting party had died on hunts before. But this time was different. One of them had died without any clear reason, and he had barely even managed to scream. A sense of foreboding stirred in Dax's heart.

But as their leader, Dax didn't let his unease show. If the group lost heart, it would be hard to keep them together.

"Bury Naike's body here..." Dax began. Then his eyes narrowed. He picked up a black feather from the ground and, looking at the wounds on the corpse, said sternly, "Keep your weapons close. Watch out for attacks from the sky."

"Is this one of Negary's followers? Has Negary set his sights on us?" Komoro asked fearfully, staring at the black feather.

"Don't say things like that!" Dax said with a dark expression. "Why would Negary set his sights on us? This was just an accident. It's fine. Everyone who isn't on watch should go to sleep. The watchmen just need to stay alert."

The others looked troubled, but no one challenged Dax's words. Two people who had been close to Naike stepped forward and carried his disfigured corpse aside. They began digging a pit to bury him.

The two who buried the body were sad, but they didn't dwell on it. That was life in this world. People died of hunger, in conflicts with the Kente People, from illness, and in attacks by wild animals. They had seen too much death to be shocked by it.

They lowered the body into the pit and, breathing in the earthy smell of the soil and the stench of blood, slowly covered it over.

The pit wasn't very deep. Before long, some wild animal might catch the scent of blood, dig it open, and enjoy a meal. But the two men didn't care. Burying it for now was enough to put their minds at ease.

The two men stared at the filled-in pit, panting. They felt more exhausted than they ever had before, which left them puzzled. As hunters, they couldn't afford to be weak; that would be like gambling with their lives. All they had done was dig a pit and bury a body. How could it have left them so tired?

"Cough, cough. Something's not right," one of them said, coughing. "It's not even that cold tonight. Why am I feeling dizzy?"

"I feel a little off too. Let's hurry back to the fire and sleep." The other man looked unwell. Things had been going badly for a while now. There hadn't been enough game, one of them had died, and now he seemed to be getting sick, too.

The two men hurried back to the fire. The person on watch asked why they had taken so long, but they made a few casual excuses, drank some hot water, and lay down beside the fire. In their hearts, they prayed to Herro, the God of Robustness, hoping they would wake up cured in the morning.

Wang Yuan drifted beside them, watching the White Qi around them gradually weaken, and said nothing.