195: Corpse Demon

Chapter 192: Ghoul

Outside the Plantation, many Zombie Hounds were wandering aimlessly.

These fierce beasts, once used to track down runaway serfs, now had a new task.

Arthur walked among them.

Although he was completely invisible, his footsteps still made a faint sound on the ground.

Hearing the noise, the hounds would look in the direction of the sound with confusion.

Some cautious ones would even let out warning growls,

but the humanoid zombies responsible for guarding were equally bewildered and at a loss.

Arthur successfully reached the front door of the house. He looked inside through the window.

The ground floor hall was packed with Undead.

There were zombies of various forms, terrifying skeletons, and even some grotesque, unidentifiable hybrid creatures.

Among them, Arthur noticed a warrior holding a longsword and clad in armor.

Its eyes burned with blue light, like will-o'-the-wisps; the longsword in its hand also seemed to be wreathed in a wisp of faint black mist.

A Ghoul, Arthur surmised in his mind.

These Undead creatures were mostly transformed from mortals whose hearts were filled with dark desires and strong obsessions.

Simply put, these individuals were unwilling to accept death and actively embraced the dark forces.

Although Ghouls did not look much different from ordinary zombies on the outside,

they retained their memories from life and their actions were driven by their past self-consciousness.

They would unconditionally obey the commands of the dark entity that transformed them into Undead.

At the same time, while retaining a certain degree of autonomy, they swore to serve this new master for life.

Just as Arthur was observing through the window, the sound of hooves suddenly came from the other side of the house.

He immediately retreated cautiously.

A figure riding a zombie warhorse appeared around the corner.

Arthur continued to slowly move backward, trying not to make any sound.

It was also a Ghoul; it held a whip in its hand and had a longsword at its waist.

Ghouls did not like sunlight. During the day, they mostly hid in dark corners until the sun set before becoming active.

It seemed that after they rescued the serfs trapped here last time, the owner of the Plantation had strengthened its defenses.

The rescued serfs and the old servants of the Candy Family provided a lot of useful information.

Many of them mentioned talking dead people,

and they all said that those terrifying monsters would suck away life, and those whose lives were sucked away would eventually turn into zombies.

It was based on these descriptions that Arthur deduced the existence of Ghouls.

Furthermore, those people also mentioned that the loyal servants of the Candy Family had mostly been transformed into these kinds of monsters.

With Ghouls present, a frontal breakthrough was essentially impossible.

Arthur did not want his soldiers to suffer too many casualties.

These people, who had endured brutal battles and were loyal to him, were his important supporters.

As the patrolling Ghoul gradually moved away, Arthur headed towards the back of the mansion.

To reach the vineyard, one had to pass through the Candy Family's mansion.

Therefore, the Undead here must be cleared first.

There were also many zombies wandering behind the mansion.

Arthur even had reason to suspect that the Candy Family had gathered all the dead from Qingfeng Valley into the Plantation over the years.

After all, Qingfeng Valley was never short of dead people.

The Amn Kingdom alone had dispatched three expeditionary forces to Qingfeng Valley.

Except for the first expeditionary force, which luckily succeeded and ruled for a period,

the other two were almost completely wiped out here.

Arthur quickly discovered the open door.

The monster managing this place made a mistake.

It did not close the door that was opened during the last rescue of survivors.

Arthur walked to the entrance and looked down.

It was dim below, making it difficult to see the situation inside.

The young baron wished he had dark vision at this moment.

Helpless, he could only risk entering the basement.

This open door might become the key to clearing this place.

Below was a large wine cellar, with barrels of wine neatly stacked on shelves.

If the Candy Family was truly as skilled in winemaking as the Townsfolk said,

then the wine stored here was undoubtedly a considerable fortune.

Arthur did not venture deeper, but carefully examined the area using the sunlight projected from the entrance.

Soon, his gaze fell on the load-bearing pillars supporting the roof.

He then recalled the situation inside the house that he had seen through the window, and a plan gradually formed in his mind.

Mist Town was rich in timber but lacked stone.

Therefore, many local houses had a main wooden structure.

Even wealthy families like the Candy Family still used a mixed brick-and-wood structure for their mansion.

And all the load-bearing pillars supporting the house were made of wood.

If that was the case, as long as a fire was set in the wine cellar, and the flames burned through those wooden load-bearing pillars, the entire mansion would collapse.

The Undead inside would naturally be buried under the ruins.

Even if they managed to escape before the house collapsed, it would still be advantageous for the subsequent cleanup.

Having made up his mind, Arthur no longer lingered and immediately retreated towards the camp.

The camp's cooking smoke was filled with the acrid smell of burning peat and the stench of feces.

Paths winding through half-rotten tents were covered in muddy black earth.

In the center of the camp was a rough open space, where several empty flatbed carts were parked.

Perhaps at some point, these carts were piled high with food and clothing.

But now, they were empty, like coffins waiting to be buried.

A cold wind howled across the wide wilderness.

Wherever it went, the cold was bone-chilling, yet it could never disperse the foul stench of feces, sewage, and sweat mixed together that permeated the camp.

Godwin, leading Philip and Bruce, rode through the refugee camp.

All three were wrapped in the fur coats Arthur had given them, but even so, the cold wind still stiffened their hands and feet.

“Spring in eastern Amn is as cold as winter in the west,” Philip complained, unable to help himself.

As a native westerner, he simply could not adapt to the climate here.

In his memory, by this time of year, people should have been fishing or sowing and cultivating fields.

“There’s about a month’s difference between spring in the east and west,” Godwin explained. “However, a spring as cold as this year’s is indeed rare.”

As he spoke, his gaze swept across a corner of the camp.

Several emaciated horses were rummaging through a garbage heap, searching for something to fill their stomachs.

And the refugees in the camp were not much better off.

When Godwin and his party rode into the camp, the refugees all looked up.

Their gazes were wary, yet tinged with timidity.

The men in the camp were all unshaven, with sunken cheeks, lips covered in festering sores, and thick calluses on their rough hands.

The women, on the other hand, had vacant eyes, greasy and matted hair, dispirited expressions, and their smocks were covered in filth.

Philip tried to avoid eye contact with these refugees, but he found it impossible.

These people looked not much different from those in his hometown,

only more desperate and impoverished.

This was the true plight of most of the lower class within Amn.

Philip had once naively believed that other parts of Amn were filled with the rosy-cheeked, cheerful farmers he had heard about from priests and bards.

But he was wrong.

On his way from the west to the east, he had seen too many villages as barren as his own hometown.

Of course, he had indeed seen rosy-cheeked, cheerful people.

But those were not farmers, but local gentry, powerful magnates, or Plantation owners—

Godwin seemed unmoved by the scene before him.

Perhaps he was already accustomed to it.

He rode his horse to the central open space, dismounted, and took out his belongings: a flask, a bag of oatcakes, and a leather-bound copy of “The Doctrine and Precepts of Mother Earth.”