Through this vivid demonstration, blacksmith Cole roughly understood why the Soul Returner needed iron pipes.
He thought for a moment and said:
"Sure, I'll figure out the price of the iron pipes. If, as you say, many people will buy them, I can repair some equipment for you for free later, preferably metal types, of course."
There was an unexpected surprise!
The Dark Archmage was somewhat surprised upon hearing this. Although this matter was entirely due to his own subjective will and did not trigger a random quest, the result was not much different from a normal quest.
Even if it appears on your player panel, the reward is nothing more than "Blowpipe*1, Blacksmith Cole's Trust +15, Free Repair Attempts*3".
The Dark Archmage finally left Dragonborn Village satisfied with the iron pipe. After trying it out on two wild Vine Sheep, she quickly mastered the use of the blowpipe and the making of blowguns.
Simply place the seeds of the Fluorescent Velvet Grass on your fingertip, and then during the Directed Alienation process, wrap the seeds with a thin layer of tissue.
After inserting the blowgun into the blowpipe, a short, sharp breath is all it takes for the blowgun to fly outwards propelled by the air, eventually hitting the target not far away.
The impact upon contact with the target will not only cause damage but also implant the seed into the flesh, directly marking the Blood Corpse.
The post about insurance related to [ Dark Archmage ] has been posted on the forum. As for the guide on blowguns, she plans to retrieve the items from her own corpse and mark a group of Blood Corpse in actual combat before synchronizing it. That's how guides are made. For an experienced player like her who has accumulated a certain reputation, it's easy to mislead newbies, which is something she really doesn't want to see.
After confirming that everything was ready, the fully armed tea-serving archmage marked the location of his own corpse on the map and infiltrated the forest to begin exploring forward.
"I just hope my body doesn't decompose... otherwise it'll be too gruesome..."
"Shaman, a corpse has been found ahead."
A man dressed in distinctly nomadic attire rode Hoofed Beast and stopped in front of the tribal shaman to report.
The young shaman reined in his horse and stopped, a hint of doubt appearing on his face:
"What's so strange about that? Everyone's seen quite a few dead bodies these past few days."
"Shaman, this corpse is indeed a bit strange, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Please take a look for yourself."
"Take me."
Upon hearing this, the shaman tightened his legs around the Hoofed Beast's belly, and the docile Hoofed Beast immediately began to trot behind the nomad. After exchanging a glance with the tribal chief, it disappeared ahead.
As for the hundreds of tribal members behind the shaman, they rode on some Aberration animals or led Aberration livestock across the wasteland, slowly moving forward with their families under the leadership of the tribal chief.
The scouts and shaman quickly arrived at the corpse, and the shaman understood at a glance why the tribespeople couldn't explain what was strange about the body.
The body clearly belonged to a human woman, dressed in a style of clothing never seen before, with multiple pockets sewn onto the waist of her coat, each bulging with contents.
The corpse was still wearing a dark green robe, but the robe had been torn to shreds by the Blood Corpse.
If clothing is the first thing you notice, then upon closer inspection, the shaman only felt that there were more and more problems with the corpse.
The woman's left hand had transformed into a broken, three-edged wooden dagger. Her body bore obvious scratches and bite marks from the Blood Corpse, but her brain remained perfectly intact.
Logically speaking, such a corpse should have become part of the Corpse Tide long ago, but it did not; it simply lay quietly in the wilderness, slowly decaying.
Could it be...?
The shaman considered one possibility: the female corpse had been attacked by a group of Blood Corpse before her death, and knowing that she had no hope of survival, she committed suicide by poisoning herself to avoid becoming one of Blood Corpse.
What a respectable and pitiful soldier...
Have you ever seen anyone dressed like this before?
The shaman turned his head and asked the nomadic scout.
The scout shook his head repeatedly and said:
"Never seen them before, maybe they're a new tribe."
The shaman didn't answer again. Having decided he understood the situation, he dismounted and approached the corpse, issuing a concise command:
"I'll search, you go dig a hole."
"Yes, sir."
As he carefully examined the corpse, the shaman couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.
After escaping a wave of Corpse Tide, the tribe, led by her, began migrating westward. Along the way, they encountered many similar corpses, which was enough to show that the scope of the Corpse Tide was far beyond their imagination.
However, most of the human corpses that did not turn into Blood Corpse were already gnawed to death, so this was the first time one had been so intact.
Although they promised to give the body a proper burial, this did not mean that the nomads would not search the body.
In the wilderness, every resource is extremely precious, and the little trinkets on an inconspicuous corpse might just be the key to getting through the next difficult time.
The shaman began to search the pockets on the female corpses one by one, and soon found four small balls, each about half the size of a fist, made of layers of tender vines, as well as two small bottles of liquid in strange plant containers and three top-heavy objects with wooden handles.
There were more than a dozen odds and ends. The shaman accepted all these unfamiliar items and stuffed them into the pocket on the side of the Hoofed Beast.
Anyway, there's still a long road ahead, and I can slowly figure out what I can do with these things.
After gathering the found items, the shaman and the scout sat back on the Hoofed Beast. Before leaving, she glanced back at the female corpse and pulled out a short staff from her waist.
The opponent's right hand shows obvious signs of a plant-based mutation. In that case, let her be forever fused with my source of power.
A pale blue light appeared, and the shaman pointed the tip of his staff at the female corpse:
" Imbalance."
As soon as the words were spoken, the corpse began to rapidly decompose, but this was not a sign of decay. Instead, it was like cordyceps using its remaining value to nourish something yet to be born.
The two Hoofed Beast gradually disappeared into the distance, the female corpse vanished completely, and a tender sapling sprouted from the soil.
Ten kilometers away, the [ Dark Archmage ] stood there, stunned.
Just now, the marker on her map simply disappeared!
She could certainly remark that location, but that would mean she marked the place of her death, not the object of her own corpse.
Do ghouls still exist in this world?
The Dark Archmage fell into self-doubt.
Ed, in the castle a dozen kilometers away, was also caught in self-doubt, mentally reconciling accounts with Little Green:
"When did I get into this tree?"