Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1592 - 1153: Big Move, Run

Chapter 1592: Chapter 1153: Big Move, Run

Inside the airship’s lower deck, a semi-transparent imprint circled around Heisuo. It didn’t seem particularly remarkable; Heisuo could lie down, roll over, or even stand on her hands without issue. But the moment she made any excessively violent movements, the imprint would immediately expand and trap her in place.

Her two subordinates were treated the same way—unable to make any abrupt movements. Frustrated, Heisuo resorted to rhythmically tapping her fingers on a surface.

To an outsider, it would appear as though she were idly tapping for amusement. But her subordinates instantly recognized the pattern’s meaning: "What the hell is this thing? When did we ever provoke something like this?"

This conversation had evidently occurred numerous times before, and the two subordinates exchanged helpless, bitter smiles. One of them, a red-haired man, began tapping his own fingers as he replied, "You’re overestimating us. We didn’t provoke this thing because we couldn’t. Three Divine Ban Seals, just casually placed? Even the Friel Empire’s Godslayer wouldn’t manage that."

The blond subordinate echoed, tapping his own fingers as well, "The Godslayer changed his name, remember? He’s now called the Registrar of Gods. It’s a completely different level. The Registrar of Gods is only strong because of his Heroic Spirit Legion—without that legion, he’d merely be on par with a deity or Truth Mage. But this thing? It’s not even human—it’s more like a higher-dimensional entity."

Red-haired subordinate asked, "Registrar of Gods? Where did you hear about that?"

"Bought the info. From a Goblin Trade Guild known as the Silver Chamber of Commerce."

"Ah, goblins. That’s fair. Do you have more news?" The red-haired subordinate asked, noting that goblins had a reputation for reliability.

The green-haired subordinate responded, "Plenty. A chaotic mess of information, but much of it is hard to verify. Remember the Violet Mercenary Group? They’re sponsored by a wealthy patron now, loaded with cash, and hunting for our intel everywhere. They’ve even placed a bounty of twenty thousand Demon Crystals for the captain alive, and for the two of us? Just five hundred."

The red-haired subordinate’s face turned green. "Only five hundred per person? That’s practically humiliating! I’m the Red-robed Archmage of a god-level mercenary group, for crying out loud!"

"Not five hundred per person—it’s five hundred for the two of us together, so two hundred and fifty each. Dead or alive, doesn’t matter. And as for your Archmage title? It’s pretty much a fake certification; don’t act like they’d shell out real money for that." The green-haired subordinate retorted irritably.

The (fake) Red-robed Archmage sulked, glancing at the red-haired subordinate and then at Heisuo. They exchanged glum looks, each showing frustration. "If we’d known it would turn out like this, we would’ve avoided them altogether."

"Who could’ve guessed they’d land a patron? Heck, we’re a god-level mercenary group—how come no patron has approached us? I wouldn’t mind relying on one, either." The green-haired subordinate tapped his fingers and let out a long sigh.

The room momentarily fell quiet as everyone sighed together. After all, if a wealthy patron were available, who wouldn’t want to rely on them? Despite their reputation for strength, god-level mercenary groups were essentially blood-soaked soldiers, selling their lives to earn gold.

When it came down to it, their days weren’t even half as good as the Violet Mercenaries. At least those guys had territory to their name—a lawless underground city where taxes accounted for most of their routine income. Far easier than the constant slaughter mercenary life demanded.

That was why, after the Light Disaster, they’d been invited to attack the Violet Underground City. They’d hoped to claim a share of the territory—after all, they were the most famed group, so their name had been put on the operation.

They’d assumed their reputation would intimidate the Violet Mercenaries, but things hadn’t gone as planned. Not only did their attack fail, but now the Violet Mercenaries were holding a grudge.

And invading a city was nothing like being a mercenary. There were no opportunities to confront enemies in one-on-one combat. Despite their individual strength, they’d been trapped in narrow passageways and targeted with concentrated fire the moment they showed themselves—a total waste of their prowess.

"Ever since encountering that Primal Mourner, our luck’s been terrible. Could it be that the Primal Mourner cursed us with misfortune?" Heisuo tapped her fingers and asked.

"Bad luck is bad luck. Don’t blame it on a pile of bones; it’s not the God of Misfortune." The Red-robed Archmage responded.

"Quiet! Back to the intel. Someone mentioned the entire Joseph faction has been mind-controlled, and there seems to be some strange behavioral shifts among the Kael royal family—complete personality changes." The green-haired subordinate continued.

Heisuo froze, alarmed. "Joseph faction? Isn’t that the fleet outside? Controlled? By whom? The Great Speaker? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?"

"Does it matter? I receive thousands of pieces of intel every day—how am I supposed to know what’s real until I verify them? Obviously, I’d only share it if I was sure. Besides, who could control the Joseph faction? They’re powerful—would it really be the Great Speaker?" The green-haired subordinate countered.

Frustrated, Heisuo pulled at her hair. Mercenary intel sources were notoriously chaotic—ranging from drunken whispers in taverns to stolen secrets heard through hidden doors. Some were absurd, others precise, but the problem was figuring out which was which.

As the Lord of Omniscience once said, "I know all the world’s secrets, but I don’t know which are true."

Of course, Heisuo knew the Lord of Omniscience hadn’t actually said that. That snake wouldn’t bother spouting such a ridiculous line.

Whether the Joseph faction’s high command had been controlled, she couldn’t confirm. What she did know was that the Heisuo Mercenaries’ leadership had been overtaken—and she was their leader.

Just then, the candle-like entity at the tail end of the airship abruptly moved, bolting out of the compartment with frantic haste.

It hadn’t gone far when calls echoed back from the creature outside the ship.

"What... what’s it shouting?" The Red-robed Archmage stopped tapping his fingers and asked aloud.

"Seems like... he’s saying ’Big move? Run?’"

"What does ’big move’ mean? Forbidden Spell? Ultimate Truth?" The Red-robed Archmage questioned.

"Probably an attack even that thing considers ’big.’" The green-haired subordinate speculated.

They exchanged glances, the realization hitting them simultaneously. Without hesitation, they rushed toward the airship’s exit. If a creature stronger than a god deemed the attack dangerous, there was no way they’d survive even a grazing blow.

Unfortunately, they’d forgotten about the prohibition spell. As they made a frantic dash, the seal instantly immobilized them in place.

"Help... us... let... us... out..." Heisuo struggled against the prohibition and shouted in pained bursts. But before she could finish her plea, an even fiercer screech rose from outside the airship.

The Void was supposed to be silent, yet this shriek hammered directly into their souls like a colossal sledgehammer—a physical and spiritual punch all at once.

Before they could recover, another jet of sound, even more fearsome, erupted from a different direction. The second shriek was farther away, yet its impact far exceeded the first, striking them with a metaphysical fist so massive their minds reeled in disorientation.

Then came a third cry—a drawn-out howl: "Awooo—!"

The sheer force blacked out their vision, and the weakest among them, the green-haired subordinate, couldn’t take it anymore. Blood spurted from his nose as he collapsed unconscious.