Grief's Embrace

"Number Twenty-Eight, find the person who killed Number Twenty-One and bring him back."

As his words fell, a coffin in a shadowed corner by the wall slowly opened. A man covered in stitches stepped out. Compared to the Dog-Faced Man, he looked far more normal.

Aside from the body parts of varying shades, clearly taken from different people, and the stitches covering his body, he looked very much like an ordinary person—only exceptionally tall and strong.

His eyes were faintly red, a lingering side effect of Count's Blood. Given the medical standards of this era, it would have been absolutely impossible to create such a monster without supernatural power.

After stepping out of the coffin, the stitched man said nothing and simply headed silently toward the exit.

Meanwhile, Yang Mu had already risen, casually erased his traces, and arrived at an underground casino.

Half an hour later, Yang Mu was blocked in a dark alley by several thugs. The reason was that he had won five thousand Gold Shields in half an hour.

The underground casino owner had already shown consideration for the casino's reputation by not pulling out a flintlock and shooting him on the spot.

This was the Lower City—a slum, plain and simple. How much money could people who gambled here possibly have? Why would real high rollers come to this dump to gamble?

So, the five thousand Gold Shields Yang Mu had won amounted to nearly two days of the casino's income. Of course they were going to corner him in an alley.

"Kid, hand over the money."

A thug pressed a small dagger against Yang Mu's throat and snarled viciously.

"Hey, pal, I won that money fair and square. What, your casino doesn't allow customers to win?"

"Shut up, you damn yellow-skinned monkey."

Seeing Yang Mu shouting loudly, the thug pushed the dagger a little closer, its blade already cutting into Yang Mu's neck.

Yang Mu narrowed his eyes, though the smile remained on his face. One finger touched the tip of the dagger. Bang! A ball of black flame spread along the dagger and onto the thug.

The thug let out a terrified, agonized scream and fell to the ground, rolling around in an attempt to put out the black flames. Yet even after he was burned into nothingness, the flames never went out.

The other thugs were dumbstruck. A living person had been burned away in barely two seconds, without even a trace of ash left behind.

What was that? Magic?

While they stood frozen, they failed to notice two Black Shadows appearing behind them. Sharp bone blades slid free, followed by several more screams. Then the alley fell completely silent.

Yang Mu vanished into the thick fog with two armed skeletons. As for the so-called Number Twenty-Eight, finding Yang Mu? What a joke.

At dawn, as the sun rose, the dense fog blanketing Plank Harbor began to disperse. Yang Mu, who had finally found an inn, opened his eyes with the sunlight.

A clean room and a soft bed—this was the best night's rest he had had since coming to this world.

He did not have high standards for his living conditions. Back when he conducted research, he often slept amid piles of mangled corpses, but those bodies had been processed and carried no unpleasant smell.

It was far more comfortable than sleeping in a slave den.

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After getting up and washing, he was still wearing those tattered clothes. They had been washed, though, so while ragged, they were clean.

Yang Mu first bought himself a comfortable set of clothes, along with a cane. As a Mage, not holding a stick in his hand always felt as though something was missing.

Naturally, unlike some impoverished fool, he did not choose the cheapest one. His cane was exquisitely crafted, with agate and pearls set into its head.

Plank Harbor was bustling during the day, with newly arrived sailing ships everywhere and large numbers of dockworkers hauling cargo.

Yang Mu approached several captains, hoping to board their ships and travel elsewhere, but they all refused. The reason was that he could not provide proof of identity, no matter how properly he was dressed.

People without identities like him were either wanted criminals, pirates, or runaway slaves. This was especially true after he mentioned having several companions who likewise could not provide identification and could not even show their faces.

Under such circumstances, no legitimate cargo ship would dare take Yang Mu aboard. No amount of money would help; there was no point earning it if one could not live to spend it.

With no other choice, Yang Mu sought out some gang members. Only after spending a large sum of money did he finally board a smuggling ship. Like him, the passengers aboard were people unable to provide identification for one reason or another.

Yet none of them were poor. Every one of them looked quite wealthy.

As a major customer, Yang Mu received the largest cabin on the ship, large enough to easily accommodate him and the six undead he had brought aboard.

After boarding, Yang Mu never left the ship again. In Cabin Number One, six undead surrounded him as he constructed his first Apprentice Rank spell model.

A defensive spell of the undead school: Grief's Embrace.

Effect: Consume Undead Servants to obtain a temporary shield. The shield lasts ten minutes if it is not attacked.

The shield's effectiveness depends on the strength and number of servants consumed.

If the sacrificed servants were strong enough, it could easily block even an attack from a god. But if the sacrificed servants were too weak, it might not even stop an ordinary arrow.

This was a special spell with no rank.

In other words, even a Low-Level Apprentice could theoretically inscribe and cast it. In practice, however, almost no one below a Second-Level Wizard could inscribe it, and even casting it was difficult.

Its structure was far too complex for Apprentices, Mages still in the learning stage, to inscribe or cast.

That was only true for ordinary Mage Apprentices. Yang Mu was naturally an exception. Compared with world-destroying spells of the Fourth Order and above, this spell was like elementary arithmetic beside advanced mathematics.

As a godlike figure even in the field of advanced mathematics, solving this kind of elementary problem was absurdly easy.

Thus, halfway through the night after the ship set sail, Yang Mu had already completed the inscription of his first spell model. Within his sea of consciousness appeared an intricate magic circle, rotating steadily. It was as solid as a fortress while placing very little burden on his mind.

Yang Mu was quite satisfied with it. He had been a genius in his past life, but there had inevitably been regrets during his growth. Even though he had spent great effort later making up for his weaknesses, some shortcomings remained. Now, being able to start over with his memories was an enormous opportunity for him.

After completing the spell model's inscription, his mental power also increased by a certain amount, reaching 3.12.

Rising to his feet, Yang Mu looked at the Undead Servants surrounding him and felt a bit of a headache.

He was still unfamiliar with this world and did not know how to acquire supernatural materials. As a result, he could not open his own Undead Space and could only keep the Undead Servants by his side, which was extremely inconvenient.

Where could I get a Pure Heart?

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