This is the last compulsory mission.

Let us all strive to survive.

Please support one another nearby.

" A moment of silence ensued in the channel, followed by a flurry of messages.

"What the heck?" Suddenly, tears welled up to speak candidly.

From the very beginning when Lord Fong how began to sell provisions and armaments and later returned to the spring of revival, most of the individuals within the channel who managed to survive had received assistance from Lord Fong Hao.

He spoke truthfully.

This was the final mandatory mission and survival was paramount for all.

My territory boasts tier three troops and should we succeed in completing the battle ahead of schedule, I will extend support to territories that signal with smoke.

I possess a greater number of forces and if anyone requires aid, they may ignite the signal.

People need a leader, someone of esteem and respect.

Several individuals who had fared well in their development stepped forward, voicing their commitment to provide assistance to neighboring territories should victory be attained.

Observing the discussions, Fong House smiled subtly, adjusting to a more comfortable position as he proclaimed, "Though I dwell amongst the undead, "My heart remains ablaze with fervor.

" Before long, the troop beheld the city ahead.

Nightfall enveloped the scene.

The army of the crushed Skull Tribe, having undertaken a rapid march, finally approached their objective.

As night descended, the troops began to set up camp and prepare their meals.

Even the robust orcs under such intense exertion found their bodies fatigued.

Nevertheless, their progress remained impressive.

Tents of the orcs began to rise, and some commenced cooking, boiling the raw meat they had brought, while others seized the opportunity to rest on the ground.

After a hearty meal, the camp was soon filled with the sounds of snoring, resembling a cacophony akin to a bustling construction site.

Within the command tent, Amiri dawned a gleaming silver Orcish armor.

Intently examining the intelligence map delivered by the scouts.

According to the journey as trajectory, they would reach the undead city by the Morrow, seizing the treasures held by their adversaries to present to the great chieftain.

This would undoubtedly elevate his standing, propelling him to greater heights.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from outside the tent.

Amir s expression grew grave as his hand instinctively rested upon the hilt of his sword.

Who goes there? Inquired the orish guards.

It is I.

I have urgent news to report to the chieftain.

Came to reply.

Let him enter.

Amir commanded.

Recognizing the voice of one of his subordinates.

A burly orc stroed in breathless and exclaimed chieftain trouble.

One of the accompanying wars has perished within the tent.

Instantly, Amires demeanor shifted to one of seriousness.

The death of an orish hero within the camp was no trivial matter.

Not only did it pose a threat to his own safety, but the morale of the troops could also be adversely affected if word spread.

Gather the guards.

We must investigate.

Amiri spoke in a low tone, leading a contingent towards the tent of the war.

The war was not a member of the crush skull tribe.

Rather, he had been assigned to their ranks by great chieftain Saul prior to their departure.

Though of a lower racial status, he was a hero in his own right.

Possessing a degree of combat prowess.

The wards seldom interacted with them, silently trailing behind the troop.

However, the sudden demise of one had ignited a sense of unease.

Could it be that an assassin had infiltrated their camp? To silently assassinate a hero is undoubtedly a perilous endeavor.

Soon, a few individuals arrived at the tent of the warg.

They dismantled the tent to prevent any potential dangers lurking within.

The temporary shelter was not sturdy.

Two orc warriors approached and swiftly tore it down, revealing the lifeless body of the ward lying on the ground.

At this moment, the ward had undergone a profound transformation from its initial state.

Its fur had fallen out in patches, exposing skin that appeared as if it had been dowsed in molten iron.

ashen and swollen.

This was no mere recent death.

It resembled the remains of a corpse that had been deceased for several days.

My lord, this the other orcs discerned the unsettling truth.

They were seasoned soldiers accustomed to the grim realities of battle and the company of the dead.

As time passes, a corpse undergoes various alterations.

Though they might not comprehend the underlying principles, they could approximate the time of death.

Amir's expression grew grave as he regarded the body on the ground.

Since we cannot ascertain the truth ourselves, let reveal its secrets.

Chapter 139.

Conversations with the deceased in the northwestern corner of the orc encampment lies a peculiar area cluttered with various debris.

Uncomfortably close to the orc's waste disposal site, wreaking of foul odors and swarming with insects.

In a furthermost corner, several enormous iron cages can be discerned within which some humans are imprisoned.

Two orc sentinels approached, casting a glance at the humans on guard, and coldly declared, "Guani, what can I do for you?" Esteemed lords, I am honored that you would personally visit, stammered the guard of the cages, hastily rising from his seat, his face a mask of obsequiousness.

The Orch regarded Guan Xi with disdain.

During their campaign against the undead city, they had come across several human territories and had seized a few captives along the way.

These humans were notably disunited, elevating Guanchi to the position of slave overseer.

They kept a close watch on the remaining captives.

In fact, to curry favor with the orcs, Guanchi was even more ruthless than the orcs themselves.

The commander requires three individuals as sacrifices.

Select three who are feeble and incapable of labor, the orc stated gravely.

Clang.

At the orcs words, a ripple of chaos erupted within the cage.

No one wished to become a sacrifice, even if their lives were now worse than that of dog.

Understood, my lord.

I know precisely who can work and who is unfit.

I shall select them immediately.

Guani proclaimed loudly, striving to showcase his competence before the orcs.

He struck the metal bars with a wooden stick, producing a jarring sound.

Chi Ming, you and you stepped forward.

Cease your pretense of death.

Guanchi pointed out three individuals.

The names of the remaining two eluded him.

In truth, the captives were in decent physical condition.

Those who bore serious injuries had long been executed and discarded in the wilderness.

Guanchi's selection method was straightforward.

He swiftly eliminated those he found unsatisfactory or deemed unworthy.

Brother Guan, we hail from the same city.

Please do not select me.

Pleaded the man named Chi Ming.

Who else should I choose? Stop your whining.

Guani cursed.

Then Don is sick of fantic smile.

My lord, these three are physically weak and have been slacking off in their duties.

Is they who shall serve? You speak nonsense.