The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 165 - 151: Attack of the Players

Chapter 165: Chapter 151: Attack of the Players

The joy of defeating the dungeon’s boss had no time to burst forth before the subsequent outbreak of a contagious plague sent the Undead into panic.

"It’s like I was forcefully logged off, I was forcibly disconnected."

The speaking Undead’s body began to twist, and his tongue grew gradually clumsy until, in the end, as he opened his mouth to speak, saliva squeezed out with the cumbersome tongue, and before consciousness completely severed, he shouted, "It’s, contagious... Run!"

The outbreak of this calamity plague seemed premeditated; even the Undead began to suspect that Lord Leon had been preemptively avoiding leaving the hall before going completely mad, perhaps as a precaution against infection.

"Ugh!" An Undead began to vomit, his body obeying physiological instincts, unable to run, only able to stay put.

He saw a plague infection progress bar appear before him and watched as the bar rapidly filled up, yet he couldn’t move his body at all.

What had been a victory suddenly turned into a disaster scene. Some people sensed something was wrong and ran out quickly. Others began to shout that no one should approach the Leon Territory.

"There’s a plague!"

The news spread incredibly fast.

The afflicted Undead would have their character control taken over by force, their bodies deforming and mutating. The only saving grace was that they would enter a continuous health-draining state; if left alone, they would die quite quickly.

However, most Undead ran, desperately fleeing the source of infection, and they all headed, as if by agreement, to the Former Territory’s watchtower!

...

The sudden outbreak of the calamity plague caught everyone off guard.

For the Undead, defeating Leon was no tall task. Lind had utmost confidence in the Undead and even found the time it took to defeat Leon somewhat longer than expected.

As long as there was a health bar, no matter how strong, someone could always kill it in an extremely short amount of time.

But after all, they were just ordinary people. Being ordinary people meant they would panic, flee, cause a ruckus, and even... spectate.

Although the two sides were temporarily in a honeymoon phase, that did not stop Lind from speculating with the most malicious attitude.

Lind quickly organized a defensive line. The plains were an open area, easy to attack but hard to defend.

All the non-combatant NPCs were evacuated to Holy Water Town, which was easy to defend but hard to attack and indeed more suitable for holding out. But there was a problem—it was too late for that now.

He had to establish a defensive line in front of him and then let the people behind retreat.

He also had the Volcano Monster Bird head to the Crossroads of Faith, the Red Dragon Foothills west of the underground cave exit, and other places to inform the soldiers to get ready, just in case the plague carriers influenced by the Abyss made it past.

"Don’t let anyone get close!" Lind shouted his commands, uncertain whether he should feel relieved that a large portion of his strength was diverted to capturing Catastrophe Warhorses in the greenlands, leaving most of those remaining to be the soldiers of the surrendered Leon Legion.

They were still groggy and unclear about what had happened.

A shaky figure appeared.

The colorful hair was also indicative of the newcomer’s identity.

"What’s going on?" Mico approached Lind’s side, clutching a small knife with a blade that glinted in the moonlight, symbolizing her commitment to stand by his side.

Miss Brittany, although she didn’t speak, had a string of spice bottles with tiny holes slung over her shoulder.

"It’s a plague from the Abyss," Lind said, "That’s why I dislike those who speak unclearly."

The Iris Flowers corrupted by calamity needed a gardener. The flower-snatching Undead came uninvited, so they stirred up a mess.

If Leon had clarified earlier, Lind definitely would have found a way to prepare in advance, like digging a large pit to bury the Undead in before the plague could infect them.

But he also knew Leon had no need to tell him.

The other party hated the Old Nobility to the bone.

Those influenced by the Abyss could harbor any amount of malice without it being too much.

"The Abyss?" Their voices raised in unison.

Calamity and Abyssal Calamity are not the same.

Everything prefixed with "Abyss" can be counted as a huge trouble that one would avoid at all costs; bodily mutations are actually the least of one’s worries. The real horror of the Abyss lies in the corruption of the soul and thoughts, transforming into another being capable of independent thinking.

And when the Abyss is combined with a plague... it heralds the arrival of a disaster!

The staggering Undead had already collapsed onto the ground, the Curse from the Abyss having hollowed out his body.

If he didn’t turn to ashes, that meant he wasn’t dead.

Lind forbade anyone from approaching.

"Lance!"

"Yes!"

Lance, the peerless Divine Archer of the Rand Kingdom, could hit an exceedingly small target from a great distance.

Already prepared, Lance’s fingers gently plucked the bowstring. The arc through the sky, carrying frost crystals and icy wind, struck precisely into the skull of the fallen Undead.

It nailed his head to the ground from above with unerring accuracy.

A headshot, but he wasn’t dead.

"The head is no longer his weak point," Lind saw more clearly.

"Fall back!" his voice burst forth.

The defending Soldiers were still over a hundred paces away from the Undead, but even this was not a safe distance.

The Undead struggled up, his head pinned to the ground by the arrow, exerting great effort as it wrenched free like meat on a skewer, trailed by a stream of pitch-black liquid.

He staggered forward, as if the innate desire for life drove him to run towards them with awkward, uncoordinated limbs.

Lance fired another arrow. This time everyone clearly saw the arrow pierce the Undead’s throat, creating a see-through hole.

The frost on the arrow froze the wound, not a drop of blood spilled.

A chorus of gasps emanated from the NPC Soldiers’ mouths.

They had never seen such a scene before. The Undead’s body contorted, covered in fatal wounds, its eyeballs spinning uncontrollably in their sockets.

The fear of the Abyssal Calamity made them unconsciously step back.

The transformation wasn’t over; his body inflated uncontrollably, armor falling off in pieces. His face was as pale as a corpse, then swelled as if soaked in water for a long time, with lumps under the skin squirming like leeches burrowing in.

His stumbling steps grew faster.

The Abyss-corrupted Undead ran forward, his body pitching as if he would fall at any moment, but he never did.

He closed the distance between them swiftly.

His head, flapping its oversized tongue, acted as his rudder.

"Ahhh—!" His elongated wail was disturbingly drawn out.

A Soldier fell to the ground involuntarily; he was just an ordinary city guard who was captured and among the first to surrender.

Though still forty or fifty paces apart, it was as if he could smell the rot of the Undead’s flesh and the corruption of the rotting malice in the soul.

The continuous frost arrows piercing the Undead triggered the explosion of the lumps under his skin, black pus splattering.

The shooting arrows roused the terrified Soldiers, who quickly set up their crossbows and fired.

The staggering Catastrophe Undead still moved forward laboriously; its body, now a living pincushion riddled with wounds, shook more violently, leaving behind a trail made entirely of oozing pus.

"Boom!"

The Abyss-transformed Undead’s body finally burst open, turning to ash.