The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!-Chapter 49 - Mad Secret Emissary

49: Chapter 49: Mad Secret Emissary

49 -49: Mad Secret Emissary

The ground, the decrepit and crumbling village strewn with rocks, was littered with corpses.

The burning and twisted bodies curled up in the wailing, mad chant, their charred wounds leaking no blood, but flames from trembling souls converging into streams of crimson serpents.

The blood serpents meandered forward, chasing the figure ahead.

“Snap!”

Underneath the iron boots, flames burst forth the moment the sole contacted the ground, the blood serpents vanished in an instant, clearing an area.

The blood serpents knew no fear, merely blindly following the guidance of life, drawing near to the “Giants” before being extinguished with each step they took as flames erupted.

Lind, carrying the Carrion Queen’s Broken Sword, strode forward, leaving behind twin rows of burning bloody footprints.

He was cautious enough, and with the power within him under Absolute Control, relying on the Broken Sword of the Carrion Queen, and the composure of the Great Knight, he did the best he could.

Yet, as the blood fire fell like a torrential rain, Lind still couldn’t avoid being affected.

A portion of the power inside him had diminished, not much, but enough to unsettle Lind’s heart.

Fortunately, the number of enemies was sparse; other than desperately plunging forward and shouting “Favor of the First Fire” before hurling their burning implements at Lind, they could do nothing.

The villagers couldn’t derive more strength from the god they worshipped; if not for the genuinely troublesome blood-red flames, they likely wouldn’t even have the chance to make Lind wield his Broken Sword.

The Broken Sword extinguished the frenzied bonfire, leaving only some villagers with broken legs in the village of the Mad Wise Ones, struggling to survive, trembling whenever Lind approached.

Not every Mad Wise One had lost their senses; fortunately, some still knew what fear meant.

But it couldn’t be ruled out that some villagers were more cunning; however, Lind didn’t care.

“My lord,” Ace Aimu approached Lind, only through firsthand experience on the battlefield could one feel the surge, his blood boiling with excitement.

If a Bard were here, they would certainly turn this into a hymn.

But if spoken in the special language of the Undead, this feeling would probably be expressed in just two words: “Fuck!”.

“They worship some Evil God, might be from before the birth of the Ring of Magic, or perhaps after the Ring of Magic shattered,” Lind immediately assigned Ace Aimu a task, “Search the village for their sacrificial grounds, churches, priests and the like, then destroy them.”

Lind scanned the short, hunched figure ahead, completely concealed under a black robe, seemingly also stealing glances at him with their eyes.

When the figure sensed Lind’s gaze fixed on them, they immediately shrank back, bowed their head, and continued trembling.

Forget it, it’s just an ant, I’ll kill it later.

He would absolutely prevent these Mad Wise Ones from nearing Star Dragon Ridge; insanity was an incurable disease, only preventable, not curable.

Ace Aimu happily went off to search.

Every room had its treasures; even though these treasures had to be handed over to the Lord, the joy of exploration was his own.

Lind then lowered his head to examine the armor on his body.

The armor of Rand’s First Legion, focusing on defense as much as aesthetics, but as he wrapped his armor in burning flames, the raging fire “reforged” the armor.

Now the rage had subsided, but the temperature of the armor had not cooled down; a windy breeze passing over it stirred up a hot, muddled current.

If this continued, perhaps the enemy wouldn’t need to damage his armor as the flames would burn it first.

Lind’s gaze moved away from the “magenta” armor, the decorative lion heads subtly showing signs of warping and melting.

“Jackpot!

Struck it rich!”

The excited cries of Ace Aimu drew Lind’s attention.

“Aiyoh, just not strong enough.”

Forget about having to hand over the good stuff; Ace Aimu couldn’t carry many items anyway.

Thinking of this, he wanted to once again complain about the game developers – why make it so realistic, with no spatial storage at all?

Ace Aimu, having no choice, dropped the items on the ground, slowly accumulating into a small hill.

Lind: “…”

He had still underestimated the hoarding behavior of the Undead; even taking people’s torn clothes?

And wooden cups, toilet brushes, scythes?

You really don’t spare the villagers anything.

Forget it, he was used to it.

Players were like this.

Amid the rubbish, Lind spotted something—a cup, a bowl, a plate or the corner of a garment all shared a special symbol.

A cross, to be precise, a “—cross—”.

The middle beam was very long.

Was this the god that the village of the Mad Wise Ones worshipped?

Lind quickly looked away, aware that many religious symbols originated from divine knowledge, providing just a glimpse could turn one into a fervent Believer or a Mad Wise One if contemplated too closely.

Clearly, if one wanted to effectively exploit this village, one must meticulously control and eliminate all potential issues.

The most definitive solution was to level the area and rebuild.

Lind no longer paid attention to Ace Aimu and moved toward the fields.

The Mad Wise Ones needed food as well, and the sparsely sown crops in the fields grew wildly.

It was clear that the irrational villagers had difficulty managing even this simple task, but the “fertile” Calamity Shadow Region allowed mutant plants to grow wildly without care.

He bent over and moved the soil aside, indeed seeing tubers as big as the pads of fingers.

A string of “little potatoes” was pulled out by Lind using the thorn twists.

Mutated crops.

This was indeed the greatest harvest of this trip.

There truly were many types of food here, even seeing patches of Flame-Tongue Grass growing.

The concentration of the Calamity Shadow in this area was probably even higher than in the Scavenger’s Nest.

What a fine planting ground indeed.

“Perhaps the Undead could try to clear and farm this land,” Lind walked back to where Ace Aimu was busy picking through rubbish.

You said you’d be a farming player.

Why are you so into picking up rubbish?

Is it really that interesting?

“Yes!” Ace Aimu nodded.

He had already changed into an outfit of the Mad Wise Ones, a ragged black robe, cloth shoes, and a sickle and torch hanging at his waist.

If it weren’t for his handsome face, even Lind might have mistook him for a Mad Wise One.

Playing cosplay is the pleasure of being a player.

Actually, there really wasn’t anything useful in the pile of rubbish.

Lind planned to arrange for the Undead to come and farm the land, so he still had to go back and post a quest.

He had just walked a few steps when he stopped, turning his head to look behind him.

Ace Aimu, looking charming, sensed “there was a plot unfolding” and also stopped.

“Damn!” He saw a small villager and was startled, instinctively wanting to swing a sword, but Lind held him back.

The Carrion Queen’s Broken Sword fell to the ground, the barren soil trembling.

“Who are you?” he sensed that the other party seemed to want to follow him.

The small figure took off the black robe, revealing a face gaunt of cheeks—a boy about eleven or twelve years old.

“I, I am Renzo,” his voice was hoarse.

“May I ask, are you a Noble, sir?”

He used a kneeling ritual from the period of prosperous civilization, the etiquette required when a commoner was formally summoned by a Noble.

It was impossible for ordinary people to mimic because there was specialized closed training by a Court Lady before they needed to use this etiquette.

The positioning of fingers, the extent of movement, and even where one’s eyes should look had to meet certain standards.

Before the actual start, there would also be dozens of “dress rehearsals.”

Even Lind from before his time travel had rarely seen such rituals.

This ritual had extreme demands for seeing a commoner; they had to make notable contributions, similar to the Earth’s Prime Minister or President publicly meeting ordinary people.

Its political significance was beyond imagination, representing to some extent the absolute political inclination within a Noble’s own territory.

Lind had only seen the Prince, who he used to hang around with back then, meet a few civilian representatives to vie for more authority.

So when the young boy suddenly used the kneeling ritual, Lind immediately corrected his attitude.

Fortunately, the reception ritual had no constraints on Nobles, after all, Nobles were the rule makers.

All he had to do was declare his identity.

“I, Lind Armand, Noble of Royal City Goliath, son of Baron Armand, Lord of Star Dragon Ridge…” Lind responded with the haughtiness of a Noble.

A Noble’s response must be haughty, as that was also what the boy before him using the kneeling ritual expected.

Unfortunately, there was no attendant officer by his side; otherwise, someone would have helped declare his noble titles.

Lind paused slightly before saying, “…with Noble Blood truly flowing in my veins!”

“Thump!” The boy knocked his head on the ground, “I, I…

please let me pledge loyalty to you!”

“Why should I accept your loyalty?” Lind shook his head.

Although he was a “poor” Noble and his surname had lost the power that came from the Ring of Magic, it did not mean that he should accept people from a village of Mad Wise Ones.

Just because the other person understood the “kneeling ritual”?

Indeed, on the distant frontiers, perhaps even Ronin from Prey Town didn’t understand what a kneeling ritual was.

All the protocols weren’t as important as a piece of wheat bran bread.

“I have completed the Noble lord’s command,” Renzo lifted his head, his face showing plea and expectation.

“Since you are a Noble of Goliath, you must know, I have completed it, completed it, so, I can pledge loyalty to you, to a Noble!”

Poor boy, the Old Nobility were almost extinct; now was the era of the New Nobility.

“What have you completed?” Lind asked casually.

Renzo kept his kneeling position, his palms facing up in a “holding” gesture, slowly advancing them forward.

Then.

“Boom—!” Red flames gathered in his palms.

These flames were stronger than any Lind had encountered among villagers before, or rather, they weren’t in the same league at all.

The person before him should have been very weak, but when he held up the blood-red flames, Lind felt a pressure brewing within him.

Creating pressure capable of affecting a Great Knight, the other must also be of “Great Knight” level.

From a player’s perspective, Renzo was likely above level ten, and possibly even at boss level.

Renzo: “I have completed my service to the Dianmi Overlord, control over the Mad Fire!”