Chapter 342 Transaction

A scaly humanoid creature with a faint glow all over its body walked out of the forest. Cimili subconsciously thought it was a beastman, but beastmen did not have such a majestic appearance.

Although beastmen have strange appearances, their outlines are highly similar to humans, except that they have extra limbs and organs, abnormally dense body hair, and pus-filled sores. Most of them have iconic horns, either bull horns or goat horns.

The scaly species before him was clearly a creature completely different from humans, the difference between them being like that between a cat and a dog.

Only the idiot scholars in the Altdorf Academy would confuse the two. Cimili had seen many beastmen, but none of this kind.

The unknown creature just glanced at Cimili, but the instantaneous eye contact made the great swordsman, who was known for his bravery, tremble slightly.

There was no emotion in its vertical pupils, only some elusive and profound meaning.

It's like a shepherd evaluating the lambs in the pen, or like a factory worker casually taking a look at his products in his spare time.

In any case, that was not the look one should have when looking at a living thing; it was more like looking at a tool.

Ximili always felt that he had become a commodity with a price tag rather than a living human being.

In the next blink of an eye, the long staff in its hand suddenly burst into a light as bright as daylight.

The overwhelming sunlight almost blinded Cimili's eyes, and the piercing explosion made him subconsciously tense his muscles, but what attacked him was only a gust of shattered night wind.

By the time he adjusted to the light, the creature had disappeared.

The buzzing sound still echoed in his ears. There must be something wrong with his eardrum.

It was as if the sun rose from the ground of Baker Harbor, and all the residents in the city saw the light reaching straight into the sky.

The intermittent heat baked every being under the light. Even in the middle of winter, they were sweating from the heat.

Low cries of pain roamed around in the shadows of the city. It seemed that this warmth was too hot for the undead. Wave after wave of skeletons that attacked the temporary human positions fell apart. Group after group of zombies, emitting green smoke all over their bodies, fell in the slow progress.

The vampires did not appear again, perhaps they had escaped, or perhaps people could not see the battle between the vampires and the beings at the end of the sun.

Is that an enemy?

Carls von Carstein, the chief commander of the Undead Legion of Baker Harbor, took the lead in setting an example - he was the first vampire to leave Baker Harbor.

As for those of his own clan who had not yet reacted, he could only express his misfortune to them.

Why didn't anyone come to inform him? The human reinforcements have arrived at Baker Harbor, what are the other vampires near Baker Harbor doing? The knight in a black windbreaker quickly shuttled through the forest, and it didn't take long before he met "other vampires".

A lady of the House of Lahmia soon overtook him, and fled beside him toward the southeast.

"I thought you would offer at least some resistance."

The woman's calm voice, which did not reveal any emotion, did not make Carls feel uneasy. Betrayal and betrayal were the embellishments of the intrigues among vampires.

He is not an idiot without political acumen. How could he fight against unknown enemies like a "hero" foolishly and then give away his life and political status in vain?

Only idiots would do that.

What if other vampires intentionally left a gap, allowing the human army and unidentified wizards or chosen ones among them to arrive at Baker Harbor and murder him?

Why did he continue to fight in vain after the enemy reinforcements arrived? Could skeletons and zombies be more valuable than his life?

"Because of my order." A sinister whisper came into his ears. The horror contained in the words, as if it could see through people's hearts, made Carls' thoughts freeze instantly.

A vampire with flowing white hair appeared beside him at some point and followed his steps as if strolling in the garden.

Its festering and blurred face made it difficult to distinguish the identity of the attacker directly from its appearance, but the iconic blood ring on the opponent's hand had already overwhelmed the light and heavy fear that weighed down everything on Karls.

He is Vlad von Carstein, an immortal from the ancient Nehekhara civilization and the founder of House Carstein.

"My words still stand, my friend from the south. I don't know how much the Imperials have offered you. Carstein will only give you more."

Lynch, who was about to clear out the bat wolves and terrifying beasts in the city, was stopped by the whisper brought by the wind. He paused slightly and identified the source of the sound.

The other party is nearby, just to the southeast, within twenty miles.

Further clues are needed.

"Chips? Gold or gems? Do you think I lack these things?"

Lynch replied calmly while waiting with full concentration, amplifying his hearing to the extreme.

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“No, no, no, I know you, you are the lizard people in the rain forest.

I saw you once, perhaps a thousand years ago, perhaps longer, when I served King Lemas Petra. We hired legions from the jungles of the South, and I was there when your beasts ran over Prince Nagash's army."

"I have what you need, Lizardman. I know you have been working hard to find the golden tablets. If you just stand on our side for a while, you can get far more tablets than what is in the Imperial Collection.

The Imperials don’t have the appraisers that Carstein has, so they probably put the slabs in a museum.”

There was an unquestionable sense of self-righteousness in the calm voice. If Lynch's mind was not so strong, he would have been in awe and fear, because these words contained the magic of authority.

This is a big fish. There has only been one Castaing since the days of the living in Nehekhara - the original Vampire Count, Ankar.

Or by his new name: Vlad von Carstein.

But he seemed to have made a mistake.

Lynch locked onto his position, making estimates and planning the trajectory.

The Ancient Saint's Slate is something that every cold-blooded species wants, and it is also the only "currency" that cold-blooded species demand. It is a fact that ordinary Lizardman settlements are disturbed by the endless attacks of young creatures and are unable to send troops to retrieve the Ancient Saint's Slate. They can only adopt a more peaceful way.

But this is the fact in the South. There seems to be something wrong with the Thoros hatching pool in the Southland jungle. In Lynch's memory, there are more skin lizards and giant lizards there.

The Stanks can talk peacefully because they are not combatants from the beginning.

But Thoreau was not appointed a diplomat.

Of course, Lynch would not be surprised that these young races mistook Stenk for Thoros. Except for the elves and the oldest dwarves, few people still remembered the cold-blooded civilization deep in the jungle.

(End of this chapter)