Chapter 50: Soul Severing Elixir—Yours for Less Than 998!

"Catapults ready! Blackfire, release!"
"Mages, prepare to ignite!"

On the battlefield, shells exploded and flames roared, lighting up the sky. Everywhere one looked, shadows surged without end. The great battle had raged for three days, yet the undead still swarmed over the hills beyond the city.

In a place where alchemy flourished, where magic had already been woven into the very fabric of daily life—such as with steam buses—how could the magic cannon be lacking from their arsenal? Yet, the once-dominant magic cannons, which had brought victory after victory, now proved far less effective against the undead than they ever had against the blood clan.

The might of a magic cannon was undeniable; it could blast the undead to pieces. But, no matter how thoroughly their bodies were shattered, the undead would simply reassemble and rejoin the fray. Time and again, the cannons would pause the onslaught, but could do nothing to end it.

In this war, only the direct purification of light or the total incineration by flame could grant true relief—utter annihilation for the undead.

The royal city of Ailran was now engulfed in a tide of the undead, cut off from all outside contact. Under such circumstances, the combined forces of the Night Watchers and the Nightwalkers barely managed to hold the city gates, doing all they could to keep the undead from breaching the walls.

It was only with the aid of Blackfire, a concoction refined by the alchemists, that their burden was eased. Blackfire—a viscous, pitch-black liquid—once ignited, burned with wild intensity and served as a potent weapon against the undead.

Within the city, alchemists and apothecaries alike had been conscripted to refine Blackfire. Among them was Murong Xun, also drafted into the army. He now stood atop the city wall, watching the relentless tide of the undead raging below, while the defenders dared not sally forth for close combat.

In the beginning, the garrison had charged out bravely and felled many undead, only to be overwhelmed by the endless horde. The undead would simply rise again, and the defenders, having suffered heavy casualties, gained nothing for their valor. After that, leaving the city was forbidden.

Now, the soldiers merely assisted by pushing undead off the walls as they climbed up, but the real fighting fell to the mages and the extraordinary.

One by one, the extraordinary hurled jars of Blackfire high into the air, wind spells sending them arcing further, and then igniting them from a distance. Fireballs rained from the sky, while the mages used wind to fan the flames, making the Blackfire burn even fiercer.

Looking out from the walls, one could see a sea of fire beyond the city, with undead burning everywhere. The nature of Blackfire meant that once it clung to something, it wouldn’t stop burning until it was utterly spent—impossible to extinguish.

Murong Xun thought it resembled petroleum, though far more volatile and domineering.

He was not the only player atop the wall; others too were helping, though none knew each other, each tending to their own survival. This was war, and preserving one’s own life was paramount.

When he was drafted, the old man had handed Murong Xun a small vial of potion. Now, he stood atop the wall, dispatching the climbing undead with a swing of his blade.

[Soul Severing Elixir: a particularly ruthless alchemical potion.]
[Star rating: none.]
[Effect: One strike to the soul—not for a mere 998 coins, but enough to banish both soul and body!]
[Evaluation: Don’t be frightened by its name; it can be gentle, too.]

This was an alchemical creation without level or grade—a potion that could wear away the soul itself. For the undead, whose bodies could endlessly reassemble, only the soul was a true weakness.

Murong Xun had coated his tang blade in the elixir; every time he beheaded an undead climber, their soul was utterly destroyed, making resurrection impossible.

It was clear that Elmer von Cloudy cared deeply for his sole disciple, giving him such a life-saving item for protection.

Thanks to this, Murong Xun found the task relatively easy. So long as he remained atop the wall, hacking down undead as they climbed, he would steadily amass military merit. While he could never match the spellcasters, who could wipe out swathes at a time, his method was slow but steady—and, most importantly, safe.

To plunge into the undead horde was to court glory and death alike, for sooner or later, they would tear you to pieces. Only the living could hold infinite potential.

The ruckus atop the wall was matched by the chaos within the city, where fighting never truly ceased. Not only did the blood clan and the Nightwalkers wage their own savage war, but above the city, sixteen figures had been battling ceaselessly.

Eight saints faced off against seven blood lords and a blood emperor.

The blood emperor—the blood god of the blood clan. It was his disappearance that had suppressed the blood clan for so many years.

Their battle was a colossal spectacle, though it mostly raged above and had little effect below.

On the merit leaderboards, players vied fiercely for position. Brother Ji, once at the top, had vanished, replaced by others. The four paladins, previously pushed down, climbed back up in the absence of their rivals.

The vanished ones were Wen Feng and his group. They had released the blood emperor—while six saints stood guard. Now, the entire city hunted them as traitors to humanity, their previous rankings nullified by the Mage Tower. But before the Nightwalkers or Night Watchers could apprehend them, they had fled in haste. With the city in turmoil, no one had time to pursue them.

As for Dark Night and Murong Xun’s group of four, they remained untouched—likely too insignificant for the saints to bother with.

Three days of defending the wall were grueling. Relentless rotations, little rest, and the constant threat of being dragged down by the undead made vigilance paramount. The area needing defense was too vast, manpower was stretched thin, and rest breaks were brief—barely enough to eat, drink, and snatch a few moments of sleep before returning to battle.

As casualties mounted, the strain only worsened.

Murong Xun, however, managed well. Though the effects of his various potions had faded, his newly acquired Aurora Bracers granted a boost to all his attributes, enhancing him overall. His gluttonous talent granted him exceptional endurance.

He had lost track of how many undead had fallen to his blade. Yet it seemed that earning merit from the undead was easier than from the blood clan—mainly because it was steady and consistent, a trickle that accumulated over time.

His ranking had now climbed into the top fifty—a remarkable feat for a newcomer to the second world. Though this owed something to the three-faction split and the deaths of those previously ahead, his own strength was the true reason for his continued survival.