Chapter 162 - 55: [Anshiba]

Chapter 162: Chapter 55: [Anshiba]

At seven fifty-three, he passed through the sparse Rusted Copper Forest and a cluster of gloomy rocks. Ahead, amidst the misty shadows, was a bustling camp of the living.

Loose bedrolls and filthy old carriages were scattered haphazardly, piled high with looted spoils and Magical Beast corpses. Broken weapons and everyday garbage littered the ground, forming a massive maze.

Hundreds of bandits, criminals, and fugitive gang members bustled about the camp. Some were still snoring away in deep slumber, while others had already risen early to prepare for the daily morning tax collection.

The lord of the Gray Moss Far Field maintained an unusually strict daily routine. He rose early and returned early, meticulously executing every task on a precise schedule like a well-oiled, methodical machine.

This caused no end of suffering for the criminals. Accustomed to scaling walls, picking locks, and committing murders in the dead of night only to sleep through the day, they now had to drag themselves out of bed early every morning. They had to be ready to receive either the Undead tax collectors—figures donning Nether Copper Barrel Helmets and trailing long, grayish-green cloaks—or the Ghost Knight Lord himself, distinguished by his Deer Antler Frog Beak Helmet.

Amidst vulgar curses and angry roars, several bandits, irritable from the early wake-up call, wrestled and brawled in the center of the camp. The surrounding criminals laughed uproariously, pouring black-market moonshine over the fighters’ heads and bodies before smashing glass bottles against their faces, which naturally sparked even more fights.

The camp descended into a chaotic uproar. Someone drew a dagger and abruptly lunged with the murderous blade, slashing it viciously across another man’s throat.

Blood splattered like liquid flame. Agitated by the scent of blood, the red-eyed criminals trembled and cursed, drawing their weapons to slaughter one another over the most trivial of slights.

CLANG. CLANG.

When Anshiba’s massive silhouette halted at the edge of the criminal camp, the clamor ceased instantly. The criminals cowered and backed away, leaving only the fresh corpses of their infighting in the clearing.

Anshiba stood in silence. In the dim light of dawn, the shadow of his Antlers stretched across the front of the camp, making him look like a legendary wendigo.

[Target creatures for extermination detected.]

[Extermination priority: Extremely high.]

BEEP BEEP BEEP. The illusory alarms blared wildly, locking dead center onto every human within his field of vision.

[Amplifier automatically activated.]

The shockwaves of Spiritual Energy pulses reverberated inside his helmet, bringing with them a manic rage and a neurotic sense of anxiety.

"Sinners," Anshiba muttered. However, he ignored the flashing UI interface.

"My Lord..." a gangster who appeared to be a leader approached.

He wore an elegant, cuffed leather coat, with a gold pocket watch tucked into his vest pocket. Despite his refined, gentlemanly appearance, he was quite old and as skinny as a beanpole.

Anshiba wondered how this beanpole had managed to become the leader of these vicious criminals in a Bandit Camp where fists and blades did the talking.

"Every day, three corpses," Anshiba said. "That is the price you pay for residing here and enjoying the protection of the Undead. I do not care what methods you use; give me three corpses every day."

"Yes... my Lord," the beanpole leader responded in a low voice.

"Where is today’s corpse tax?" his cold voice rumbled and echoed from within his chest armor.

"Please, rest assured... We have already bribed the Corpse Collector of the Oak Knight Territory. From now on, at least five corpses will be transported here every day from the Knight Territory’s crematorium to be offered to you..." The beanpole leader bowed and scraped respectfully beside Anshiba.

"I did not ask about the future," Anshiba said. "I asked about today’s corpse tax."

The beanpole leader paused awkwardly.

"Today’s," Anshiba repeated. "Three."

"We just started operating this corpse-stealing business, so we only managed to steal one corpse yesterday..." the beanpole leader said softly. "Including the one in front of us, that makes two."

He pointed at the bleeding bandit still twitching in the camp’s clearing. The man’s throat had been slashed, but he wasn’t dead yet; he was still crawling and struggling.

The beanpole leader drew a short sword from his waist and stabbed it cleanly into the dying man’s heart. He twisted the hilt ruthlessly until the struggling man completely lost his vitality, turning from a living person into a pile of meat.

"Three," Anshiba repeated stubbornly.

"Perhaps... perhaps you could grant us a few days of grace?" the beanpole leader asked humbly.

"Three," Anshiba replied. "I will take it myself."

Empowered by the Spiritual Energy pulses and the amplifier, his movement speed temporarily increased. Harboring an irritable rage, he strode directly into the panicked crowd of criminals, his gaze scanning the area through the narrow slit of his Frog-beak Helmet.

The bandits stumbled back in panic. Like chicks spotting the shadow of a vulture, they clustered together in a chaotic frenzy, hoping to evade the judgmental gaze piercing through the slit of Anshiba’s Frog-beak Helmet.

Hiding in the crowd was pointless. Anshiba casually grabbed the bandit with the most blood on his clothes—the very killer who had struck during the infighting just moments ago.

His massive Nether Copper Hand Armor gripped the killer’s skull as easily as one might hold an apple.

"No, no, my Lord! No! I beg you!" the killer wailed.

"I came here to judge," Anshiba replied. "Death has given me a new occupation. I have nothing to complain about; it is simply a job.

"I came here to kill sinners and cleanse the world."

CRACK. A crisp sound echoed from his broad, thick Hand Armor—the sound of a skull shattering.

CRACK. CRACK. Amidst a series of sickening crunches, the sinner’s head was crushed within his palm.

[Circuit Infiltrator enabled.]

Accompanied by the buzzing vibrations of Nether Copper, Anshiba retracted his Hand Armor. Spiritual Energy Circuits infiltrated the corpses, forming three Undead Creatures. The sinners had been reduced to pure puppets. The newborn Undead stood silently in place, ready to serve as tools to purify the world.