Chapter 225 - 224: Wisconsin

Chapter 225: Chapter 224: Wisconsin

Wisconsin, as it turned out, was not the name of some supernatural lord as Gu Su had guessed. It was the name of a place near this desolate land.

According to the Mysterious Handwritten Manuscript, this land hadn’t always been so deathly still and strange. On the contrary, it was once a fertile region known for its advanced manufacturing, thriving agriculture, and especially its dairy industry, which was renowned in the surrounding areas. It was a prosperous and bustling land of plenty, supporting countless manors and farms.

The Turbo Manor that Gu Su had previously devoured was not an isolated, abandoned stronghold, but rather a supporting estate for Wisconsin’s core region. Its primary function was to cultivate feed for the dairy cows at the grand manors in central Wisconsin.

That’s right—pasture for dairy cows. The Tibia-thinning Grass, which Gu Su had mistaken for tobacco, had once been the finest pasture in Wisconsin and a favorite of the dairy cows. Its leaves were thick and nutritious, enabling the cows to produce a special kind of milk.

The milk produced at those grand manors would be collected and sent to a professional processing plant in the heart of Wisconsin. After a series of treatments, it would be made into various products like cheese, milk pastries, and fresh milk, then shipped to surrounding areas for sale, forming a complete and stable industrial chain that propped up the entire region’s prosperity.

This had been a smoothly operating, win-win industrial model. But at some unknown point in time, this seemingly stable industrial chain suddenly fractured and collapsed.

The dairy products from the processing plants couldn’t be sold and piled up like mountains, causing the market price of milk to plummet. Dairy products were facing a sales crisis.

Eventually, it reached a point where even if the core farms and manors sold their milk, they wouldn’t just fail to make a profit—they would lose money on the sale itself. It became a completely losing venture.

The industrial chain had snapped. Starting from some unknown day, the factories’ goods stopped selling. The price of milk cratered, dropping so low that it became more profitable to slaughter the cows than to keep raising them.

The grand manors downsized their herds, and the supporting estates lost their income. One after another, they fell into ruin.

’This is business, not something supernatural. This kind of thing happens in any world.’

But this was just the outward sign of industrial decay. Such a crisis, on its own, wasn’t nearly enough to turn the entirety of Wisconsin into the supernatural breeding ground it was today.

’It seems someone didn’t let it die a proper death.’

What truly turned this land into a full-blown supernatural domain was an extreme measure taken by the owners of the grand manors.

Unwilling to accept the reality of plunging milk prices, and even less willing to shoulder the losses from the glut, the owners of the grand manors made a mad decision.

They poured all of their unsellable milk into the river flowing through Wisconsin.

In just a few days, the once crystal-clear river was completely inundated with thick milk, becoming a waterway of milky-white slurry. The air filled with a rich, fragrant milkiness, yet it was laced with a strange, cloying sweetness.

And it was this very Milk River that attracted a peculiar supernatural being: a Countess.

She claimed to have received the "earth’s acknowledgment"—that the earth would grant her a fertile land flowing with milk and honey. She had been searching for this acknowledgment tirelessly, but to no avail.

So when she sensed the existence of Wisconsin’s Milk River, she became convinced this was the domain she had been searching for all along and promptly descended upon it.

She transformed all of Wisconsin into her personal supernatural domain and even proclaimed herself the Count of Wisconsin, seizing control of all supernatural Power on this land.

But at this point, the record in the Mysterious Handwritten Manuscript came to an abrupt halt.

The rest of the text, as if overwritten or erased by some immense Power, was blurry and utterly illegible. All that remained was a portrait from an unknown artist, which clearly depicted the appearance of the Count of Wisconsin.

The artist had probably seen her in person, as the drawing was rendered in great detail. Gu Su stared at the portrait for a long while, feeling it was probably an accurate depiction.

It was a Vampire—but not the kind under Gu Su’s command, who were just skeletons in black robes. This was a being of a kind he had never seen.

Her body was sculpted from solidified butterfat, milky-white and piled up piece by piece. Its surface was covered in cracks that oozed a yellow fluid.

The bones were human. From how many people, one couldn’t say. Ribs, spines, leg bones, and hand bones were haphazardly embedded in the butterfat. Some were exposed, others were halfway plunged in, and some revealed just a single Bone Joint.

Her skirt was made of milk skin, layered over and over. The outermost layer was already dry, yellow and brittle, its edges curled.

The inner layer was still wet, clinging stickily to her legs and dripping a white fluid.

Dangling from the hem of her skirt were rusted milk cans, inverted cow carcasses, and lumps of unidentifiable rotten meat, all of which swayed as she walked.

The drawing ended there, followed by a large blank space. The few scattered records that came after only mentioned that the Inverted Tower was born under the influence of the Count of Wisconsin’s supernatural Power.

The Count of Wisconsin herself eventually retreated into the deepest part of the Inverted Tower, and was rarely seen again.

Furthermore, the Milk River that had once flowed through Wisconsin was said to have been taken by her as well. Rumor has it that it was transformed into a river flowing through the interior of the Inverted Tower, nourishing the strange existences within.

’The Mysterious Handwritten Manuscript is truly amazing,’ Gu Su marveled. ’Even if I’d read every bedtime story there is, I doubt I would’ve uncovered a fraction of this hidden history.’

’Right now, even though I still don’t know the Count of Wisconsin’s specific combat style or weaknesses, this information alone has given me a basic understanding of this supernatural lord. Compared to Jin Chang and the others, I definitely have more intel on the enemy. That’s enough for now.’

Just as he was thinking of Jin Chang, the Doomsday Tavern suddenly lit up.

A fluorescent blue light shone from the tavern’s window. It wasn’t harsh on the eyes, but it was glaringly bright.

Gu Su got up and walked toward the tavern.

Halfway there, the light died. The tavern door was pushed open, and the Corpse-controlling Daoist, Xi Yue, emerged.

Something was off about Xi Yue’s appearance. The coffin was still on his back, but several of the runes on its lid had dimmed, and some had stopped glowing altogether.

The Treasure Pagoda was still in his hand, but a crack ran down its body from the spire’s tip to the very base, seeping black fluid.

Four players followed him: three Undead Mages and one Holy Knight.

The Undead Mages’ robes had several tears, and the Holy Knight’s Armor was covered in scratches.

All five were wounded. Some had been slashed by blades, others bitten by some creature. One of them had his face covered in so much blood it was impossible to tell if it was his or someone else’s.

Gu Su quickened his pace. His eyes swept over their wounds as he approached, and he asked with concern, "Mr. Xi, did you run into trouble?"