Necromancer, What the Hell Is Summoning 055? Section 16

After the clamor came a deathly silence.

Wind swept the acrid smell of gunpowder across the wasteland. Four human corpses and two horse carcasses lay scattered across the sand in grotesquely twisted positions. The Mountain Vine adventurer party, which had come racing over so cheerfully, had been reduced, along with their mounts, to fresh fertilizer for the wasteland in mere dozens of seconds.

Well, they probably weren't so cheerful now.

Four more lives had been taken. The deep crimson seemed to seep into Chen Mo's eyes, stirring an uncontrollable surge of brutality in his heart. He stood there panting like a cornered beast fresh from a fight, struggling to steel himself as he repeated in his head, They're all NPCs! Every damn one of them is an NPC...

But the overpowering smell of blood invaded every breath, forcing its way into his nose. The winding streaks of blood on the ground seemed to come alive in the fading sunset, twisting as they slowly crawled toward him, making him take an involuntary half step back.

No, I still have to keep going.

Mother China sent me so many things, and she hasn't seen anything in return from me yet.

Taking Little White and carrying his weapons, Chen Mo cautiously followed the route in search of the coachman who had slipped into the woods.

The fellow had shown some foresight, tying the reins securely to a crooked tree before the explosion. Though the blast and gunfire had sent the horses neighing and rearing, they hadn't managed to break free.

Chen Mo couldn't drive a carriage, much less ride a horse. For now, he had to drag that damned coachman out.

When he reached the edge of the woods, he spotted the coachman down the slope at once.

The coachman had somehow found a ragged hood and pulled it over his head. With his back to the wasteland, he was crouched in a ball with his arms over his head, just like a textbook ostrich. His coat had ridden up on his back, revealing a line of words on the lining: "White Stone City Silver Forge Carriage Company."

Chen Mo understood at once-this guy was definitely an "old hand"! That line of words was his protective charm.

All he had to do was secure the carriage, get away from the scene, cover his eyes and plug his ears to show he had neither seen nor heard anything. Once the dirty work outside was done, he could drive his carriage back as usual.

You charge such exorbitant fares, and this is how you protect your passengers?

Seething with anger, Chen Mo strode forward and kicked the coachman, sending him tumbling.

"Are you dead? If you're not, get out here and work!"

A few minutes later, Chen "Killing Maniac" Mo sat astride the carriage frame, legs spread, watching coldly as the coachman trembled and picked through the bloody mess for loot. Every now and then, Chen Mo tossed out a question. His voice wasn't loud, but it made the coachman shudder again and again.

"Who were they? Why were they after me?"

"To... to answer you, sir," the coachman said, his voice quivering, "j... judging by their clothes and how they acted, they looked like a ragtag party that teamed up on the side, picking up odd jobs the mercenary groups wouldn't touch. S... sometimes they did shameless dirty work too."

"Either they took a black market bounty or a private job for someone. They... they were after you, sir."

Chen Mo snorted, recalling the coded talk he hadn't understood earlier. "What the hell were you babbling about on the road? Explain it to me, sentence by sentence!"

The coachman hurriedly racked his brains. "Th... this is how it went! I could see they meant trouble, so I warned them first! 'Cracked ice walks no underground fire road; black crows, look not at the sun. What forest bird has come from parts unknown?'"

"Underground fire and the sun both mean the authorities. I meant that our Silver Forge Carriage Company is a legitimate business with official backing, and that the underworld and the law go separate ways. I was telling them not to try anything, and asking who they were and what they wanted!"

"They answered, 'The winter forest needs fresh firewood; spare the tree, we only want the sapling.' Firewood meant money. They'd come for money, and were making it clear they weren't after our company, but the passenger in the carriage. They were telling me to stay out of it."

"I tried to stop them again! 'White stone, white leaves, silver linden tree-which bird dares carry off its sapling?' I was invoking our carriage company's backer in White Stone City, the White Stone City Silver Forge Carriage Company's backing, warning them to stay away and not set their sights on you!"

"But they said, 'A tiger from the next mountain over'-meaning some important person from another country wanted you! They'd taken the job and would later 'offer a toast and apologize' to our boss."

"They wouldn't let up, and I... I'm just a coachman. I really didn't dare stand in their way! Look, sir, I tried to stop them twice! I really did!"

Chen Mo pressed on. "Will anyone else have taken the same job along the way?"

"No! No!" The coachman shook his head like a rattle drum. "Even on the black market, a job can't be taken more than once. The black market has its rules! If anyone could take it, the mercenary groups and adventurer parties would start fighting each other before they even got to work! Wouldn't that be chaos?"

"The black market cares about the law too?" Chen Mo sneered.

"M... most of the time it does!" the coachman said rapidly. "Without rules, nobody could make money fairly, and then nobody would do their jobs properly."

"Even when you're making dirty money, you have to follow the rules."

"Also, whether it's the black market or the legitimate market, you have to put down a deposit to take a job! It guarantees the time for completing it! I don't know how long they secured, but anyone daring to take this kind of job would have secured five or six days at least!"

"What if they don't finish before the deadline, or if, like now"-Chen Mo glanced at the "fertilizer" on the ground-"they're all dead? What happens to the job?"

"The job won't be put up again until the previous guaranteed period expires. But after that mighty display of yours, I doubt anyone else would dare take a job chasing you!"

"Can a black market job be canceled?"

The coachman stiffened, his voice turning uneasy. "Well, apart from the person who posted it withdrawing it, I've never heard of another way. I'm only a coachman, sir. I really don't know!"

The two went back and forth with questions and answers, and before they knew it, more than half an hour had passed. The coachman bundled the loot into a large parcel, put the small valuables in a pouch, and dragged it all back.

Chen Mo had worked up a sweat fighting, then talked until his mouth was dry. He drank more than half a waterskin by himself and shot the coachman a sideways glance. Unable to control his mood, he revealed the full ferocity in his eyes.

The coachman dropped to his knees with a thud, knocking his forehead against the ground with loud thumps as he cried repeatedly, "Spare me, sir! Spare me!"

"Enough! Get up and drive!" Chen Mo waved impatiently. "Hurry up and take me to White Stone City! The faster the better!"

For the rest of the journey, the coachman cracked his little whip with a flourish, as if he wanted to flay the horses' rumps. The carriage picked up speed dramatically, refusing to slow even on slopes and bumps. Chen Mo was jolted until he saw stars and nearly threw up.

After hurrying along, they finally arrived beneath White Stone City's towering walls before the sun set.

Chapter 24: The Hedgehog Tavern

White Stone City was the largest city in the northern foothills of the Creek Moon Federation, and had once been a renowned military stronghold.

With the arrival of the Five-Race Republic era, humans and elves had established their respective territories and borders. The outskirts of the Dark Forest had become a demilitarized zone, and White Stone City had seen no fighting for more than 170 years.

The tall city walls proclaimed the city's former grandeur, but the walls covered in dead vines and the crumbling, cracked stone bricks seemed to tell passing travelers in silence that this was a shield gradually rusting away.

Chen Mo was absorbed in the sight when the coachman's respectful voice reached him. "Sir, we've arrived at White Stone City. Sorry for the trouble, but you'll have to get down and walk a few steps."

They were entering the city, so they had to pass a security check.

This was where the temporary travel permit he had bought at great expense came in handy.

A guard in black light armor looked the Preparatory Apprentice and his skeleton up and down several times, frowning repeatedly at the enormous bundle on Little White's back. In the end, he said nothing. He collected the entry fees at the standard rate of ten copper coins per person and one for the skeleton, then waved them through.

Once they were within the city's controlled area, the coachman was visibly in much better spirits. He probably knew he had escaped the shadow of death hanging over his head. His voice gradually regained some vigor, with a faint note of ingratiation.

"Sir, that travel permit of yours is quite high-grade. Normally, when those black-skinned dogs collect fees, they charge outrageous prices. If they can take a hundred, they'll never settle for ninety-nine!"

"Today, they charged the lowest pet rate for your summon. That really shows how much face you have!"

"Huh?" Chen Mo didn't understand.

The coachman hurriedly explained that the entry fee per person was fixed by official regulation and couldn't be changed, but summons came in all sizes, leaving a great deal of room to vary the fee.

"If you've got backing, even an orc several meters tall can be counted as a pet. If you don't, even a fish you bought gets counted as a combat companion. Those black-skinned dogs at the gate rely on little tricks like that to make money."

Chen Mo suddenly grew curious. "What if someone brought a black knight or a bone dragon? How would they charge for that?"

"Oh, sir, don't tease me! Professionals of the third tier and above all enter the city for free! That's a rule across the whole continent. It's the same in every city!"

"All right, would you believe me if I said this was my first time entering a city?"

"Sir, I'll believe anything you say!" The coachman pointed ahead. "The tavern you're looking for is just up there. I still have to take the carriage and horses back. So, if you don't mind...?"

Chen Mo nodded slightly and casually tossed a stack of copper coins onto the carriage frame. As the coachman thanked him profusely, he turned and pushed open the wooden door of the Hedgehog Tavern.

An overwhelmingly strong odor struck him head-on as if it were solid, engulfing Chen Mo roughly.

The sour rot of fermented cheap liquor, the thick grease of fatty meat in cheap stew, the pungent smell of seasonings like onions and star anise that had soaked too long in broth, the rancid stench of sweat and leather steeped together over the years, the choking smoke of burning low-grade tobacco, and a suspicious sour odor from a corner, like vomit or spoiled food scraps, mingled with a din that wasn't particularly loud but was noisy as hell, nearly blasting Chen Mo back out the door.

The air was thick as liquid, as if it would cling to his skin. Chen Mo felt his eyes watering from the fumes and had to turn back and take several deep breaths of fresh air outside before slowly walking into the tavern.

The wooden door creaked shut behind him of its own accord, blocking out the last glow of sunset. Inside and outside the door were like two different worlds.

The light was dim, and it took some time for Chen Mo's eyes to adjust.

The tavern was considerably larger inside than he had imagined. Big men sat, leaned, squatted, and sprawled haphazardly among the rough log tables and chairs.

Looking at their badly worn leather half-armor, their wrinkled, torn coarse-cloth clothes, and listening to them shout and boast at the tops of their lungs, Chen Mo would have thought he'd come to a miners' camp if not for the weapons leaning against tables and lying on the floor beside them-axes, maces, and greatswords.

"Welcome to the Old Hedgehog Tavern!"

A waiter in a faded apron emerged from somewhere, carrying a rough wooden tray piled with ceramic bowls and wooden cups giving off suspicious steam. A practiced smile hung on his face. "Are you here for a drink or a meal, guest? Or would you like to find a girl to chat with?"

"Is Old John here? A friend sent me to see him."

"Oh, John? That's a name you hear everywhere!" The waiter drawled, his eyes darting around. "There are more Johns who come and go at the Old Hedgehog Tavern than I can count on ten fingers! That's a bit of a problem... Why don't you sit down and order a drink to wet your throat? I'll ask around for you."

Five copper coins landed on the greasy tray with a clear clink.

"Oh my, my, my! Listen to these ears of mine!" The waiter's smile instantly turned sincere and enthusiastic. With a flick of his fingers, the copper coins vanished from the tray.

"You said Old John! I misheard you just now and thought you meant Little John! I was just wondering why that little rat hadn't stopped by in so long... There!" He pointed briskly toward the back of the tavern. "That fellow over there, humming away onstage with an instrument in his arms-nine times out of ten, he's the Old John you're looking for!"

Chen Mo looked in the indicated direction. In the flickering lamplight, a wooden platform stood a dozen or so centimeters above the floor in the middle of the tavern. A bleary-eyed old fellow with sparse, graying hair held some kind of stringed instrument, idly plucking at its strings and making ah and oh sounds that were halfway between singing and a drunkard's moans.

Chen Mo hesitated no longer and strode toward the platform.

The drinkers along the way instinctively fell silent, their wary or appraising gazes turning in unison toward the uninvited guest. When they saw Skeleton Xiaobai following closely behind Chen Mo, they showed varying degrees of contempt and impatience.

It was as if they were looking at a rabbit that had crawled into a doghouse.

Necromancer was a very common profession. Among young practitioners, those who wanted to look cool learned swordsmanship, those who wanted to be dashing trained as archers, those who wanted to be refined practiced magic, and those who wanted to save money took up Undead Summoning.

If learning summoning magic didn't have a fairly complicated prerequisite, presumably everyone would be happy to bring along an undead servant to do chores and carry loads.

There were so many adventurers that anyone traveling as an adventurer was bound to have opportunities to meet a necromancer. But someone who dared venture out alone with a skeleton spearman of the lowest tier was a genuine rarity.

What kind of Preparatory Apprentice came out adventuring? Didn't they all have to serve their teachers for three to five years? Given that much time, they would have become Formal Apprentices no matter how slowly they progressed.

In the Mercenary Guild's system of magical professions, an Advanced Apprentice who completed training became a first-tier Stardust Mage, followed by second-tier Moon Wheel and third-tier Solar Corona. Only after changing professions at the fourth tier would they develop into the complex and extensive specialized branches of magic, such as Elemental Control, myriad-spirit summoning, life shepherding, and creation alchemy.

Most necromancers active among lower-end mercenaries were primarily at the Stardust and Moon Wheel tiers, and had to be Advanced Apprentices at the very least. Their standard summons were often a combination of dark gargoyles and tough-skinned zombies, providing both aerial reconnaissance and ground-based meat shields, making them popular with mercenary teams.

How long had it been since the Old Hedgehog Tavern had seen a necromancer with a skeleton spearman?

Perhaps it had never seen such a rash youngster since the day it opened.

Chapter 25: Watch Me Trip It

Josie, a newly minted Bronze Pattern Warrior, was boasting to his companions about the exploits that had earned him his advancement.

There were two ways for a professional to advance: pass the Mercenary Guild's test, or complete a designated advancement quest.

The test required a testing fee, while the quest required proof of completion. This was also one of the Mercenary Guild's important sources of income.

For example, the White Stone City Mercenary Guild's advancement quest from trainee to first-tier Bronze Pattern required killing at least six Shadow Demon Wolves and bringing back their crystals as proof.

Shadow Demon Wolves were a type of shadow creature. At any demon wolf den on the edge of the Dark Forest, one could put in a certain amount of obsidian and use the magical energy contained in the den to spawn a corresponding number of Shadow Demon Wolves.

Obsidian was a first-grade crude common material, while Shadow Crystal was a second-grade refined material. If one didn't hand them in, that meant using force to kill the demon wolves and collect the materials for a small profit.

But once the materials were handed in, it was a pure loss.

There was no helping it, though. Advancement was important, and when money had to be spent, it had to be spent.