The pale blue particles emanating from the throat bone gradually decreased and eventually stopped.

The throat bone's body gradually slumped down, and even the blue flames in its eye sockets faded considerably.

He knelt on one knee, listening to the sounds of destruction echoing through the city, and looked down at his arms.

Just like after thousands of years of weathering, the two metacarpal bones of the throat gradually lost their original color, slowly turned gray, and eventually collapsed and dissipated little by little.

"Has this reached the limits of the body?"

As he spoke, the throat bone stretched his arms toward the sky.

Soon, countless pale blue particles that had floated from the deceased gathered around the throat bone from all corners of the city, repairing the damage to his body at a visible speed.

In less than a few minutes, the metacarpal bone of the larynx was completely intact, with no trace of damage.

Emerging from the inner palace, Hou Gu, dragging his robe, walked onto the city streets.

The black undead parasites, like a wriggling carpet, had already taken over every inch of the surrounding land.

The corpses of humans, livestock, birds, and beasts were tightly wrapped together by parasites, like prey in a spider web.

The throat bone stretched out its hand, and the undead parasites on the ground immediately made way for it.

As they walked on, as if searching for some kind of throat bone, they finally arrived at the entrance of the Great Library, where they saw groups of scholars and soldiers infected by parasites lingering at the entrance, as if blocked by some force.

After stepping over the threshold of the library door, I walked up the steps to the second floor.

The walls of the library are covered with a dense mass of parasites, which have replaced the original precious murals and become the decoration of the entire building.

At the end of the second floor, in front of the astrological table, stood an elderly scholar infected with parasites.

The throat bone recognized him; he was the curator of the Imperial Library.

This old man, whose body was covered in wriggling undead parasites, was one of the few people in the Empire that Throat Bone was familiar with.

He was a frequent visitor to Saladin's study, often giving lectures in the library and discussing academic and philosophical topics with many students.

The curator stood firmly at the entrance, blocking the iron gate with his body, showing no intention of making way.

Gougu looked down and saw that the doorway was a mess, clearly showing signs of a fight.

The throat bone slightly raised its hand, and the dead curator paused for a moment, but still did not leave the door, even uttering indistinct shouts.

The throat bone marrow murmured to itself, "Does it still retain some of the consciousness it had before death?"

Before he could finish speaking, the man with the right hand swung his throat bone, and the curator's body was instantly torn to pieces, with body parts and parasites scattered all over the ground.

Throat Bone gently pushed the iron door of the astrological station, and the heavy iron door flew backward and crashed to the ground.

Amidst screams, Throat Bone slowly entered the room and found the person he was looking for—Myris.

Having shed his human skin disguise, Myris was now fully revealed as a skeleton, dressed in a gray robe. Behind him gathered hundreds of young scholars, men and women, nobles and commoners alike.

Myris stretched out his hands, which were already white bones, and faint blue particles emanated from his palms, spreading throughout the entire astrological table.

It was precisely because of this force that the undead parasites clinging to the glass of the astrological table and the terrace, though constantly gathering, still did not rush into the room.

The appearance of the throat bone provoked Myris to shout angrily.

"Throat bone! Did you make all of these?!"

Throat Bone waved his hand, and a chair flew in from the corner, landing steadily behind him.

He slowly sat down, looked at Myriel who was still struggling, and said, "I guess I can find you here."

"Are you crazy?!" Myris's roar echoed throughout the room. "This isn't part of our original plan!"

Throat Bone leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, and muttered, "The plan..."

Myris continued, "We agreed beforehand to select a group of scholars from the Empire who are impeccable in both knowledge and character. Through daily contact and academic exchanges, we will gradually get them to accept the undead and eventually bring them into our ranks!"

With his head tilted to the side, he looked behind Myris and said with a smile, "Look at the terrified looks on those young people's faces. I don't think they'll accept the undead."

Myris said with difficulty, “The youngest son of the Naibhani family is well-read and could debate scriptures with his teachers at the age of seven; the eldest daughter of the Ilham family completed the aerodynamic diagram of human respiration based on ancient Tyro medicine… These children are all people who are devoted to the truth, and wealth and power are completely irrelevant to them. I am sure they will accept the undead race!”

The blue flame in his throat bone eye flickered, and after a moment's pause, he said to Myris, "These things are not important."

Mylis roared, "Then what is important! Me! You! And Marcus! We are the only three undead left in this world. We have been alone for so long. Don't you want to welcome a new member into our family?"

"You yourself said that the undead don't have the desires of the living. What we care about is scholarship! Truth! The undead are a perfect race, a race that can abandon all desires and devote itself to holiness! Have you forgotten?!"

Adam's apple looked at Mylis: "I haven't forgotten."

Mylis: "Then why did you do this?! You ruined all our plans!"

The man with the throat bone let out a long sigh and said, "Myris, do you remember the first time we met?"

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