Because of Old Wine Insect's sudden breakthrough, the once-neglected clearing filled with undead had become as bustling as a marketplace for a time. People came and went in an endless stream.
Most importantly, everyone wanted to exchange a few words with Huo Hai. If he spoke to every single person, he would have no time for anything else. In fact, if not for the unbearable number of undead here and the unpleasant smell, even more people would probably have visited every day.
Huo Hai was grateful that he had important, legitimate work to do. As long as he maintained his hand seal to strengthen the Ghost Insect and produce motes of death spiritual power, no one around him dared casually approach to strike up a conversation.
This was no longer a personal matter. Interfering with Huo Hai's creation of the Undead Army meant making an enemy of the entire Southern Nations. Anyone who caused a problem would become a sinner against the Southern Nations. More importantly, death spiritual power itself was dangerous by nature.
The motes of death spiritual power, brimming with the aura of death, were not actually harmless to living beings. On the contrary, anyone who absorbed a large amount of death spiritual power might be transformed from a living person into an undead creature on the spot. When large quantities of death spiritual power filled the air, even people with considerable strength felt unusually oppressed and uncomfortable.
What Huo Hai did not know was that, with people frequently walking around him and watching undead creatures being made, everyone had gradually grown familiar with their creation. The Southern Nations' view of the undead also seemed to be changing.
Unlike before, when the mere mention of undead inspired feelings of dread and evil, people now regarded them as nothing