Dig Up the Sun Emperor's Legacy: I Build an Invincible Undead Legion
Chapter 141: Cut All Ties

Chapter 141: Cut All Ties

Rock Sand City, Golden Sand Society headquarters.

In a secluded courtyard at the heart of the compound, Golden Sand Society President Salimo paced like a caged animal, his usual composure completely shot.

The wolf-head parrot perched on his shoulder was a mess—feathers bloodied, beak clamped shut, eyes wide with terror. The poor thing had clearly caught the wrong end of its master’s temper.

Scattered feathers littered the ground as the bird sat statue-still, too scared to make a peep.

"Where the hell is he?"

Two hours had crawled by since the meeting time.

Something must’ve gone wrong.

Salimo’s weathered face creased with worry as he kept shooting glances toward the courtyard gate, but the man he was waiting for never showed.

Still, Salimo wasn’t about to throw in the towel.

He had to keep waiting...

Time dragged on—morning stretched into noon, noon into afternoon.

The wolf-head parrot’s stomach rumbled loud enough to wake the dead, and the bird’s head drooped with exhaustion.

Salimo’s expression had turned dark as storm clouds.

Was that bastard cutting him loose?

His face went through more changes than a chameleon on a rainbow.

The constant growling from the starving parrot was driving him up the wall.

Without warning, his gnarled hand shot out and wrapped around the bird’s throat.

"Shut up with that racket!"

His old eyes gleamed with murderous intent.

The wolf-head parrot felt its windpipe about to get crushed.

Pure instinct kicked in—wings beating frantically, feathers flying everywhere as it fought for its life.

But that withered hand might as well have been made of iron.

Bit by bit, the bird’s struggles grew weaker, wings barely fluttering.

Eyes bulging like marbles, death creeping closer.

Then—footsteps.

Creak.

The courtyard gate swung open, revealing a figure wrapped head to toe in black robes, nothing visible except a pair of dead, lifeless eyes.

Salimo’s face lit up like Christmas morning as he immediately let go of the parrot and rushed to greet his visitor.

The wolf-head parrot had dodged a bullet.

Wings flapping wildly, it tried to make a break for it.

"Hmm?"

Salimo’s face darkened with displeasure.

The parrot froze mid-flight, then carefully settled back on Salimo’s shoulder, shaking like a leaf.

"You’re ten hours late."

Salimo’s tone could’ve cut glass.

He’d nearly convinced himself he’d been abandoned, and after the initial panic came a healthy dose of resentment.

But the black-robed figure wasn’t about to waste time explaining himself to this old fool.

Instead, he laid into him:

"Salimo, you’ve been working for the lord for years—how could you still pull such a bone-headed move! The sheer gall! Actually sending people straight to the traitor camp!"

Salimo had his defense ready:

"I didn’t have a choice. Everything was to get the lord’s job done."

But that excuse sounded pathetic to the black-robed figure!

He knew Salimo’s greedy nature like the back of his hand.

No choice? Bull!

This old buzzard must’ve gotten dollar signs in his eyes over the Black Poison Faction’s benefits.

"Salimo, spare me the song and dance. Whether you did it for the lord—you know the truth."

That hit Salimo like a slap in the face.

"I never thought you had such a low opinion of me! All these years, everything I’ve done for the lord, everything I’ve sacrificed... If not for him, then who! Fine, if you don’t get it, you don’t get it! I just want to give everything I’ve got left for the lord!"

"..."

The black-robed figure went quiet.

After all these years, what kind of man are you? Everyone knows.

Greedy, money-hungry, and scared of your own shadow.

If you weren’t so obedient and didn’t pack such a punch, the lord would’ve tossed you aside long ago.

The black-robed figure gave up arguing with the old codger and got down to brass tacks:

"Your man you sent to the traitor camp should be back by now, right? Spill it—what’s the situation over there?"

Salimo’s heart skipped a beat—here it comes.

His voice went heavy: "My man’s gone missing."

The black-robed figure gave an almost imperceptible nod.

This old fox still knew how to play it safe, jumping on the cleanup work.

"Good, handled like a pro. I was actually coming to help you take him out. Keeping him around was playing with fire!"

Salimo’s face went stiff—he could tell the black-robed figure had gotten the wrong idea.

He quickly set the record straight:

"The traitor camp in the Desolate Desert got wiped off the map by some faction. Not a soul made it out alive. My man most likely went down with the ship."

"What the hell!!!"

How was this possible!

This old coot wasn’t pulling his leg, was he?

The sudden plot twist hit him like a freight train.

All kinds of nightmare scenarios flashed through his mind as he fired off questions:

"Which faction pulled this off? Has your connection with the Black Poison Faction been blown wide open? Is your man really dead?"

Questions poured out of the black-robed figure’s mouth like water from a broken dam, his tone deadly serious.

He desperately needed to know just how deep in the hole they were.

Salimo let out a long sigh:

"The Black Poison Faction won’t lift a finger to investigate. Any force that could wipe out a camp of hundreds would need serious firepower—city-state level at least. Which specific faction is anybody’s guess right now. As for my man, she’s most likely dead as a traitor. There’s a slim chance she made it out, but I’d bet my life she’d never admit to working with the Black Poison Faction. Because admitting it would be signing her own death warrant!"

By the end, Salimo’s voice rang with conviction.

Having lived this long, he prided himself on reading people like an open book.

His right-hand woman was sharp as a tack—even facing death, she wouldn’t spill the beans, much less throw him under the bus.

But the black-robed figure wasn’t buying Salimo’s confident act.

Listening to all this, he felt his blood turn to ice water.

Unknown which faction had crashed the party.

Unknown what kind of intel this faction had gotten their hands on.

Unknown whether the Golden Sand Society was completely blown.

Cold shivers kept running down the black-robed figure’s spine...

If the Golden Sand Society was exposed, was someone watching this old fool’s every move right now? He might be walking into a trap!

For a split second, the black-robed figure wanted to turn tail and run.

But if they weren’t blown, there was still one last shot at damage control!

"Salimo! Cut all ties with the Black Poison Faction right now! Clean up every trace of contact!"

"I’ve already got people working on cleanup, but the biggest loose end—I don’t have the muscle to handle them all!"

"Who?"

The black-robed figure’s voice turned savage: "Whatever it takes, they need to disappear!"

A spark of satisfaction flashed in Salimo’s old eyes.

Everything he’d said before was building up to this moment.

"The Black Poison Faction!"

"What?"

The black-robed figure nearly choked.

"As long as they’re breathing, we’re sitting ducks!"

Salimo’s tone was grave as death: "And I’ve got a gut feeling they’re cooking up something big behind the scenes!"