The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 150 - 138: It’s the Lord, I Thought it was the BOSS

Chapter 150: Chapter 138: It’s the Lord, I Thought it was the BOSS

Prey Town, Lind opened his eyes.

Feeling the familiar power within his body, the power derived from three paths, jumped along with the three marks on his chest.

It seemed like he really just had a dream.

Lind also felt some regrets. In the "Banshee’s Dream," he had obtained quite a few Blessed Weapons, which not only surpassed the Golden Dragon Skin Plate Armor he wore but also far exceeded the Broken Sword.

In particular, the Blessed Weapons that directly enhanced his strength to the Hero Rank, improving his power recklessly and bringing a tremendous leap, made Lind always feel it was a pity every time he recalled them after waking up.

As long as he could enhance his strength, he wasn’t an "item fanatic." Any means that could improve his strength were worth using.

But, after all, it was a dream.

Dead was truly dead, and being alive also meant he couldn’t bring anything out from the dream.

Lind glanced at the Banshee’s Horn in his hand; the last Corpse Dragon hadn’t swallowed him, but rather, deemed his attempt a failure and expelled him.

A character inclined to be a referee.

Failure also meant that the reward from using the Banshee’s Horn once could not be obtained.

"Success, killing that group of heroes, even the things above heroes, and that Corpse Dragon?"

Lind felt that he would probably have to be crazy to enter a second time.

To discard all power, start from zero, and with skills he was not proficient in, assembled in a makeshift way, to kill his way to the mountain top in one breath.

Failure, death.

The cost was a bit too high, not worth it.

"However, it seems more suitable for the Undead than for me."

The punishment for failure was death, which the Undead did not fear at all.

Moreover, he vaguely felt that if the usage of the Banshee’s Horn were presented in a different way, it might be very popular with the Undead.

Fast-paced, experiencing tense and thrilling battles, failure meant nothing more than death.

And if successful...

"Success," Lind mused with a frown, "Success should still reward Points, maybe a ranking system could even be established, like a race against time?"

A preliminary idea had already formed in his mind. A Cursed Weapon, which was highly toxic and posed terrible risks to the indigenous people, could be a source of entertainment for the Undead.

"Right, there should be a charge for wanting to play!"

Lind found himself increasingly resembling a qualified NPC. Regardless of whether he knew he used to be a wild beast or even if he was the world’s boss, he wouldn’t want to do that job. Win or lose aside, Lind had fallen in love with providing services for the Undead players.

Joy!

"With this, Points seem to be a bit insufficient."

A single stable and relay station, along with updates on mounts and horse gear, could keep the Undead industriously farming for a long time.

Limited by the Undead’s weak strength, Lind could not hand out Points generously, and as the "Newbie Village Chief," he could not offer the Undead too many benefits either... It shouldn’t be too exploitative.

There were too few ways to earn Points but too many ways to spend them.

Some "updates" must be kept hidden; otherwise, it would be too easy to disperse attention.

Lind also hoped that the Undead would focus more on purchasing small commodities since the costs were low enough, and the habit of consumption needed to be cultivated.

Offering the Undead limited edition commodities, gone once sold out, could motivate them to earn Points for purchases. But if too many good items diverted their attention, and the Undead cannot earn enough Points, it could result in a waste of resources.

Good things have to be released gradually.

There’s no need to worry whether the Undead could pass the Sacrificial Trials; there’s nothing like an impossibility for those who can die infinitely. It’s just a matter of how much time it takes to clear them.

Lind got up and walked towards the door, only to realize that it had already gotten dark outside.

With a casual flick, a flame at his fingertip lit the room, the firelight pressing Lind’s trembling and struggling shadow against the wall.

"How long has it been?" Lind asked the Soldier standing guard outside the Lord’s residence.

"Sir, you have rested for one day."

"One day, that’s not too bad."

Lind noticed a boy standing in the doorway, looking at him with eyes filled with fear and admiration.

"Sir! I want to serve you! I wish to become as strong as you!"

The boy knelt and kowtowed on the ground.

"I remember that old Cheli should have posted a notice for soldier recruitment and training," Lind looked down at the boy and felt the intense ambition bursting from his eyes.

But more than ambition, the boy seemed to prefer using his wits.

The selection criteria were simple; those without disease or disabilities and with bodies not too weak could be chosen. The boy was in good health and would definitely be selected if he participated, but he didn’t go through the selection process and instead came looking for Lind, which was quite interesting.

"Yes!" the boy lifted his head, "I will heed your command and participate in the selection!"

The boy left with a smile, jogging away.

"Go tell old Cheli," Lind said to the guard, "If that boy does anything using my name, give him a hard time."

"Yes!" the Soldier nodded.

Wielding influence under someone else’s banner, the boy didn’t know how long he had waited outside, but it was clear his ultimate goal was to kowtow to Lind in front of everyone.

Once there was an exchange, it will be much easier for the boy during the selection.

People who survive the apocalypse can’t possibly be simple-minded, and besides, they’re aware of the risk of exposure, but they prefer to take a gamble rather than get exposed.

The benefits in hand are what truly belong to them, and everyone here lacks planning.

Just as Lind thought, the soldiers soon returned with news: the boy claimed he had come to participate in the selection following Lord Lind’s guidance.

Lind had shown his toughness yesterday, and he was celebrated in Prey Town, so everyone chose to believe the boy’s claim to be under Lind’s wing.

The reason was simple, too: it’s better to avoid complications, and it’s just a matter of giving a bit of extra care.

Lind didn’t kick the boy out of the training group. He was claiming to be valued by him, right? Then it was only fair for someone Lind valued to undergo several times more training and require several times higher standards.

In a day’s time, the harness for the Catastrophe Warhorse was ready, and Lind led the Catastrophe Warhorse to find the blacksmith.

The blacksmith, who was supposed to nail the horseshoes, trembled at the sight of the fierce Catastrophe Warhorse, and ultimately it was Han, the ’Hammer Carrier,’ who had to step in to get the job done.

The specially crafted harness was immediately equipped on the Catastrophe Warhorse, and its half-wrapped armor immediately transformed it from a mount that looked like a little weed into a mount worthy of a BOSS.

The heavy armor shone with golden light.

"Could it be Bard’s work?" Lind hadn’t seen Bard, but the golden shimmer was definitely Bard’s style.

Han grinned, "Lord, I made it."

And he was quite pleased.

"Worthy of a Goliath," Lind exclaimed.

The Goliaths’ adoration for gold was deeply ingrained in their bones and blood.

A saddle was in place, but reins were unnecessary, as Lind’s Lost Soul Chains were sufficient to control the beast.

Lind mounted up, and with the saddle, it was more comfortable to maneuver, and due to the Lost Soul Chains, the Catastrophe Warhorse truly could achieve unity with his thoughts.

Having finished what needed to be done (and what didn’t) west of the Red Dragon Mountains, Lind had no intention of lingering. He should return to the watchtower in his Former Territory, where he belonged among the Undead, as a Newbie Village chief should.

Wherever the players go, I’ll move the Newbie Village there, offering up close and personal service.

Dressed in golden dragon leather armor, carrying the Carrion Queen’s Broken Sword, and riding an armored Catastrophe Warhorse, Lind from afar resembled a roaming Boss in the wild.

Or perhaps, he was truly that Boss.

...

The Officials’ version update 1.03 indeed made many of the Undead tense with the emergence of faction Bosses.

The anxious Undead immediately chose to start patrolling, for a Boss that frightening of course needed to be taken down promptly—otherwise, it would be too bad if someone else took the spoils.

The most enthusiastic about this investigation and patrol were the Undead from the Star Dragon Ridge camp. As the most numerous and powerful players at this stage, they formed a power that should not be underestimated.

Besides Star Dragon Ridge relying heavily on the Undead, the beginning of the Leon Territory’s reliance on the Undead was also a signal that the era of the players might have finally arrived.

To the Calamity and mutant monsters, these Undead were like locusts, not only swarming in to take down the Calamities but also repeatedly cultivating their land until they drained the last ounce of value from it before leaving.

As cyber-old workhorses, the Undead could not be exhausted, but the Calamity-afflicted land could indeed be ruined.

As frontline players of the game, the friends known as Black Tortoise Shield, Moon Slash Blade, and Dragon Scale Sword were strolling nearby.

After the death of his Curse Wizard character, Black Tortoise Shield resolutely chose to reclass and play as a Two-Headed Person. He still preferred to be the damage-absorbing tank, enjoying the feeling of trading blows.

Moon Slash Blade and Dragon Scale Sword, however, decided to play as Curse Wizards. Casting Fireballs from afar had a higher margin for error, and the Two-Headed People’s fighting style did involve affecting the surrounding terrain, something that would impact allies standing too close.

Three people, four heads, chatting away.

"Those Catastrophe Warhorses are impossible to tame."

They had tried to catch three, only to find that forcefully pulling them out just turned the Catastrophe Warhorses into red-named enemies, and even bringing them to the brink of death didn’t show any signs of taming.

"But NPCs seem to be able to ride them, right?"

"That’s just how the system’s set up. I’m guessing we’ll have to wait until the stables and posts are constructed."

It was only natural for NPCs and players to be treated differently, but they were still envious of the mounts, thinking how not only would they save ’commuting’ time on one, but it would also look incredibly cool.

Who could refuse to adorn their Catastrophe Warhorses through some good old shopping?

"What’s up?" Moon Slash Blade noticed Black Tortoise Shield’s two heads inching closer and subconsciously tightened his robe to cover his imposing chest.

"Brother," Black Tortoise Shield spoke up, "you smell so good~"

"Damn it, get lost!"

The three of them laughed and jostled each other until a sudden sound of hoofbeats approached from a distance.

Their expressions changed, and they immediately assumed a battle stance.

"Holy shit, a gold-clad Boss, wait, why’s it not red-named?"

"Looks like it’s Brother De."

Seeing it was one of their own, they quickly sheathed their weapons, knowing that ’The Officials’ favorite’ Lind, regardless of whether he’d increased his power again, could easily kill the three of them, and it would be a one-sided slaughter.

"It’s the Lord—thought it was a Boss for a second there."

Dressed like a Boss, with a mount like a Boss, and strength like a Boss, but as long as he wasn’t red-named, then he wasn’t a Boss.

"Lord, did you go out seeking a faction Boss? As an NPC, you must have received the notice first."

"Possibly!"

Lord Lind definitely wasn’t a faction Boss, he was just an absurdly strong Newbie Village chief.

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