The Scourge of Undeath 07

Ross waved his hands repeatedly. "They should be gone by now. You're not thinking of going after them, are you? The two of us combined wouldn’t stand a chance against them, and their families are influential. Let’s just drop it." Seeming eager to comfort Fang Zhiyi, he added, "Tomorrow’s a day off. Why don’t you come to my place? My family runs a bakery—I’ll treat you."

Fang Zhiyi glanced at him and shook his head. "No thanks. I’ve got things to do tomorrow."

His time was running short. To escape his current predicament, he had to spend every night in the graveyard.

Ross pouted, flopping onto Fang Zhiyi’s bed and muttering something under his breath before gradually drifting off to sleep.

Fang Zhiyi looked at him. "Little Hei, do you think if the original owner had befriended him, his life would’ve been a little warmer?"

Little Hei pondered before replying, "But the outcome still wouldn’t have changed."

"Humans are always so strange."

In the graveyard, Fang Zhiyi sighed as he faced the corpse demon and the mindless skeletons standing behind it. "This efficiency is abysmal. Aren’t necromancers supposed to have the power to destroy nations?" He examined his own hands. "Am I just too weak?"

Little Hei remained silent. Fang Zhiyi continued talking to himself, pacing in circles until his eyes suddenly lit up. "There’s another way, isn’t there?"

The academy was nearly empty on the day off, with most students having returned home. A senior student in a dark blue high-tier robe was walking with his head down when someone abruptly grabbed him. Turning around, he was met with a smiling face.

"Hey, got a minute?"

The senior never expected a low-tier junior to beat him up in the most primitive way possible.

Gasping, he revealed what he knew. "I’ve heard about this before. The ones you’re asking about—Li, Nass, and Stone—they’re all friends of Rhein, that guy from your year."

"Stone?"

"His real name’s too long, so everyone calls him Stone."

"Do you know where they live?"

After listening to his answer, Fang Zhiyi nodded, releasing his grip and even straightening the senior’s clothes with exaggerated care. "Alright, thanks. Really sorry about beating you up, but you weren’t cooperating."

As the senior watched him leave, he rubbed his sore backside in disbelief. Since when were low-tier juniors this strong? Every time he tried to summon magic, the kid had blocked it with eerie precision. Just who was he?

Fang Zhiyi suddenly stopped and turned back. "Ah, almost forgot."

The senior immediately crossed his arms defensively.

"Our meeting wasn’t exactly pleasant, so let’s just forget it happened, alright?" With that, Fang Zhiyi flicked his fingers, dark tendrils of energy swirling around them. The senior’s eyes widened in horror. "You—you’re using dark magic!"

Fang Zhiyi’s smile remained, but it carried an unsettling edge.

A moment later, the senior’s gaze grew vacant before clearing. Blinking, he stared at Fang Zhiyi, then down at himself. "How did I end up on the ground? Get lost!" He shoved Fang Zhiyi aside and hurried off.

Watching him go, Fang Zhiyi grinned. "Gotta admit, my so-called teacher I’ve never met has some tricks. That mental interference spell he invented is pretty clever." The downside, however, was that the victim’s thoughts would be scrambled for a while afterward.

"Maybe this is why necromancy is so despised," Fang Zhiyi mused before walking away.

Not long after, a robed mage in black hurried to the scene, scanning the area in confusion. "Did the magic array’s dark energy detection misfire? There’s nothing here." He lingered for a moment before shaking his head and leaving, muttering to himself, "I’m getting paranoid. Dark magic’s been extinct for ages. Soon, it’ll only exist in history books."

Little Hei observed everything silently. When Fang Zhiyi heard the report, he nodded—just as he’d suspected. The entire academy was under the protection of magic arrays. Any intrusion or dark magic would alert the mage association. That meant he’d have to strike elsewhere.

Stone sat drowsily in his carriage. His father was a noble, though not one residing in the capital—his lands were in the countryside. This trip home was to ask for money and alchemical supplies. With mentor selections coming up, he couldn’t skimp on gifts.

Just as he was nodding off, the carriage jolted to a stop.

Stone opened his eyes and pushed the door open. Outside, the sky was dark, yet they were nowhere near their destination. The driver—his attendant—had halted abruptly. Stone scowled. "Hey, why’d you stop? Keep moving. I’m starving."

The attendant turned slowly, his face pale. "Bandits... I think."

Stone followed his pointing finger. Shadows loomed ahead, figures blocking the road.

"Bandits? Don’t be ridiculous. What bandit on this route doesn’t recognize our carriage?" It was true—his family had close ties with the local outlaws. Bandits needed to fence their loot, and his household provided the means.

"You there! Don’t you know who my lord is?" the attendant shouted, mustering courage.

The figures ahead didn’t move. They only swayed in place, emitting eerie clacking sounds.

Stone’s patience snapped. "If they’re not bandits, they’re peasants. Since when do those lowlifes dare block our way? Run them over!"

The attendant nodded, cracking the whip hard. The horses whinnied but refused to budge.

"Huh?"

Fed up, Stone shoved past his attendant and jumped down. "I’m about to become a mage. Dealing with these vermin is child’s play."

The attendant scrambled after him—not out of loyalty, but because sticking close to his master was the safer option.

"You looking to die?" Stone’s hunger fueled his rage. He snatched the torch from his attendant and thrust it forward. "I’m a future fire mage—" The flames illuminated the roadblock, cutting his words short.

It was a nightmare. The narrow path was packed with skeletons, their bones caked in rotting flesh and squirming maggots. Their jaws clacked relentlessly—the source of the earlier noise.

"You—you’re..." Stone’s voice faltered. Then he remembered the legends his teachers had mentioned—the forbidden dark magic, long hunted to extinction. Necromancy.

The skeletons abruptly parted. From their ranks emerged a gaunt figure draped in tattered cloth, its eyes glowing crimson.

"Fireball!" Stone remembered his life-saving trick. As the fireball shot out, the tattered-robed figure remained motionless, but a skeleton beside it lunged forward. The exploding fireball struck its skull, and moments later, the crouching skeleton began groping blindly for its severed head.

The ragged figure suddenly let out a hoarse roar. At the sound, the skeletons quickened their movements, charging madly toward them.

"You—I’m a mage! My father is—!" Stone’s terrified cries were swallowed by the night, and soon, the last torch in the area flickered out.