Rotting corpses! The locals were a little too welcoming

Since the body's original owner had already cultivated those connections, Field might be able to benefit from them in the future.

"Haha, Baron Bull and his son are famous for-uh, sorry, I've said too much." Kao hastily shut his mouth. Badmouthing one noble in front of another was practically asking to die, even if the man before him was famous for being timid and cowardly.

He had ruined his own prospects by meddling where he shouldn't and stumbling upon a noble's affair, which had also gotten him exiled to the Northern Frontier.

Field wanted to press him further, but he noticed a cluster of red skull icons suddenly appear on the minimap in his mind, moving rapidly toward him.

"Huh, could someone be coming to welcome us?" Despite his words, Field was no fool. Those skull icons definitely weren't anything good, so he quickly sent a manservant to fetch Knight Connor.

"Haha, forgive my bluntness, but the baron is simply jumping at shadows!" After hearing the manservant's slightly anxious report, Connor laughed, his face full of contempt. "We're behind the walls of Ka Mountain Fortress, the strongest link in the empire's defenses. If there's danger even here, I'll eat every last pile of manure my warhorse drops!"

In Connor's mind, Field had already been labeled a desperate man's last struggle.

"Tell your baron that both the law and his family are overseeing his journey to Nightfall Territory. He can't back out at the last minute. That isn't how a noble should behave."

Connor's aggressive declaration left the manservant doubting himself, and he could only return to report.

Field merely said, "Oh," and ordered the slaves to slow down.

Mounted on his horse, Connor was forced to take the lead.

"Coward! I really don't know how the count fathered such a spineless thing," Connor sneered under his breath.

But his expression soon turned ugly.

Because Field had encountered the "locals" enthusiastically coming to welcome them.

"Roar!" A monstrous cry rang out.

"Here they come?" Field chuckled. "Looks like someone's having horse manure for dinner tonight."

Amid cries of alarm, Field passed the slaves blocking his way and saw pairs of gray-white eyes. Corpse monsters dressed in peasants' clothing were charging toward him at a full sprint, with a dozen or so ordinary humans running ahead of them. Even from a hundred meters away, their chilling malice and putrid stench hit him square in the face.

These rotting corpses were a product of the Northern Frontier Province!

"What's going on? We haven't even reached the Northern Frontier yet. Why are there monsters here?" Cavalry Captain Connor spat, inwardly cursing his bad luck. Just when he was about to finish his assignment, something had gone wrong. "Mount up, knights! Prepare for battle!"

Worse still, he had only just mocked Field, which made him especially furious.

Connor raised his lance, thoroughly unwilling. But if he failed to fulfill his duty, he could forget about ever joining the upper classes.

The twenty cavalrymen immediately formed a line abreast and rode up the high ground to the right, then used the downhill slope to gain speed as they charged toward the horde.

"Better to rely on yourself than beg others." Field was growing nervous too. He stared hard at the flailing corpses, then shouted to the slaves behind him, "Link the wooden carts together! Any man with courage, grab a farming tool and fight beside me! I'll reward you according to your performance."

The slaves remained unmoved. They simply hid behind the wagons, trembling or praying for a miracle.

"Don't count on those useless wretches." The steward's legs shook so violently they might have had little electric motors stuffed inside them. He was nearly wetting himself with fear! Grabbing Field's robes, he urged in a trembling voice, "My lord, let's run for our lives! Uh, I mean make a strategic retreat. There's no need to worry about these peasants. If they die, we can just buy more."

Field pulled the steward's hand away and frowned. "If this little lot scares you, you'd be better off not going to the Northern Frontier Province."

You think I want to? The count specifically picked me by name! The steward, Kao, wished he could drop dead on the spot, his face flushed red.

"Huh? Are there enemies?" Ashina jumped down from the carriage. Several days of recuperation had freed her from her sallow, emaciated state. She had filled out generously in all the right places, her skin fair and soft. If not for her slave brand and maid's uniform, she would have looked like a young noble lady.

"My lord, I... I'll do my best to protect you!"

Ashina raised her little pink fists and shakily stood in front of Field, trembling like a kitten in a cold wind.

"No need to go that far." Seeing Ashina's wolf ears flatten sideways in her nervousness, Field didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Still, he was pleased. All that meat and bread hadn't gone to waste after all.

Unlike certain hateful people who ate his food and still resented him.

"Help!" The peasants at the front spotted their rescuers and rushed over, wailing desperately, drawing the corpse horde along with them.

"For glory!"

Once they were within range, Connor's cavalry launched their charge. Roaring their battle cry, they thrust their three-meter lances as far forward as they could, straight into the flailing horde.

Squish! Squish!

A string of teeth-grating sounds rang out as the lances pierced flesh. Seven or eight zombies were lifted clean off their feet and flung to the ground like torn sacks. Foul blood, turned purple by decay, gushed freely, soaking the ground into a sticky mess.

That was only the appetizer. After their lance charge, the cavalry wheeled around and swiftly swung flails or sabers from horseback. Amid sprays of blood, the rotting corpses fell like harvested wheat. Some were knocked down by the warhorses, then had their chests crushed beneath iron-shod hooves. It was a slaughter.

The corpses that slipped through crashed headlong into the wagon barricade Field had organized. Their brains had become mere decorations. They understood nothing of tactics and even clawed and bit at the wooden carts.

"Mommy!" The slaves shoved one another, trapped inside the wagon formation. Packed together, they had no way to escape.

The steward was no better off. His plumbing failed outright, soaking his trousers.

"Fuck, a bunch of cowards."

Field was frightened too, but not nearly to that extent. Perhaps it had something to do with his love of apocalypse novels and zombie movies before transmigrating.

"Looks like I'll have to do it myself."

Field didn't have a single soldier under his command. Although the corpses moved swiftly and had no fear of death, he saw that their mindless movements weren't impossible to counter. He could only take matters into his own hands. At least this body had learned some basic fighting techniques.

With a low grunt, Field seized the moment as a corpse shoved against a handcart and thrust his longsword into its neck. Then he wrenched it hard to one side. The corpse's head flopped limply against its chest like a branch struck by lightning.

"Urgh..."

The stench of decay and fermented feces surged mercilessly into his nostrils, nearly making Field vomit. Yet he felt a faint thrill of excitement. Deep in his soul, warlike blood flowed through Field's veins.