Seize your weapons and follow me to annihilate them.

Roars of agreement erupted among the orcs as their spirits ignited, brandishing their weapons with fervor.

Over a thousand orc warriors surged forward like enraged beasts, their eyes ablaze with madness, exuding an overwhelming sense of menace.

However, as the orcs charged out of the camp, they were met by a staggering horde of skeleton soldiers emerging from both sides of the path.

The entire forest was teeming with skeletons wielding sharp blades.

Without the need for any command, the two sides clashed in an instant.

20,000 against 1,000.

In that moment of contact, the sea of skeletons engulfed the thousand orc warriors, rendering them nearly invisible amidst the chaos.

Only the anguished and defiant howls of the orcs echoed through the air.

Half an hour later, the battle reached its grim conclusion.

All the orcs lay slain, including the unfortunate Keter, who met his demise beneath a flurry of blades.

Not a single soul survived.

Fong Hao, commanding the skeletal soldiers, stepped through the blood soaked ground into the camp.

In a shadowy corner, Hong trembled uncontrollably.

He realized he was finished.

Had he known, he would never have provoked this man, why had he foolishly stepped forward to devise strategies for the orcs? Drawing the eye of Fong Hao, Hong is it? I believe I recall your name correctly.

Do you have any final words? Fong Ho inquired softly as he approached.

Please do not kill me.

I was wrong.

I am willing to see my territory to you.

We are fellow townsmen.

Please spare my life.

Ed Disphati.

He had negotiated with the orcs and could do the same with humans.

Though his interlocutor was merely a skeleton, he was certain that beneath the guys a human resided.

Hong held onto a glimmer of hope.

Yet his words bore no weight in Fong Ho<unk>s eyes.

"Is this your final message?" "I understand," Fonhao replied, raising his iron sword, Hong shuddered, shouting in despair.

"What choice do I have? My territory lies near the orc tribe.

I wish to survive.

What else can I do without aligning with them? Is it wrong to simply want to live? By the end of his plea, tears streamed downhong Hongs face.

Every individual faces a unique fate.

Hong perceived his circumstances as unfavorable.

Yet Fong Hao s journey was fraught with peril.

It was Hong who chose the wrong path, opting to eliminate Fong Hao.

"I understand now.

If I could return to Earth after death, "Please send me a dream," he murmured as his words faded.

Funha sword cleaved through the air, effortlessly severing his throat.

Blood sprayed forth.

Hong, filled with terror, clutched his neck in a feudal attempt to survive.

All was in vain.

He collapsed to the ground, his eyes gradually losing their light.

The victors reigned supreme while the vanquished become the outlaws.

Had Zwang Hong s initial deceit not ins snared Fong Hao, it would have been he who perished while Hong emerged victorious.

A strategist triumphing over his foes.

The present scenario mirrored this.

Fong Hao was victorious and he felt no remorse in ending Hongs life.

What folly, I shall not heir again.

We are compatriots were merely the words of a defeated man begging for mercy.

Such individuals would harbor their grudges, biting their time for a new opportunity.

Thus, slaying Hong bore no more weight on Fong How's conscience than eliminating the lord who had initially driven him from his lair to steal treasure.

He bent down to retrieve the lord's book.

Inspecting its contents.

Perhaps due to the indistinct identity, the current skeletal soldier's form was unusable.

After placing the lord's books safely away, Fong Hao continued to command the skeleton to crouch and began to strip Hong of his garments.

In mere moments, he had devested Hong entirely, revealing a remarkably fair complexion.

This was not born from any peculiar inclination of Fong Hao, but rather an absolute necessity for the attire.

Upon crossing over, everyone retained their original attire.

Yet, the act of changing garments became an arduous endeavor.

With Schwang Hong now deceased, this outfit was to be left for his use.

As for the notion of wearing the garments of the dead, it held no weight in Fong Hao's mind.

In this world, where survival is paramount, and the act of taking a life is common place.

What hesitation could there be regarding clothing? He removed the bloodstained garments, pants, shoes, placing them aside.

The sneakers were indeed of notable quality, their price evident at first glance.

Come forth and bury him, he commanded.

Two skeletal soldiers entered, lifting Hong<unk>s corpse and carrying it away.

It could be deemed a return to the earth, a final resting place.

One could only hope that this was but a dream.

And upon awakening, everyone would return to their former world.

Exiting the chieftain's hall, the stars continued to twinkle in the sky while a faint dawn broke on the horizon.

A rough estimation suggested it to be around 3 or 4 in the morning.

The skeletons remained industrious, stripping the fallen orc of his equipment and gathering the remnants.

Standing at the entrance of the hall, Fong Hao felt a sharp pain in his head, akin to someone plucking at his neural pathways, a pulsating discomfort.

This was a combination of fatigue from the night s battle and the extensive use of his divine presence ability, depleting his mental energy.

After issuing instructions to the skeletons, he relinquished his divine presence state.

Returning to his true form after a sip of water, he succumbed to a deep slumber.

Chapter 20.

The bloodthirsty set awakening once more.

The sun hung high in the sky.

This slumber had lasted until noon.

His stomach grumbled in protest, a reminder that if he did not partake in a meal soon, he would succumb to hunger.

The territory lay eerily quiet with all the skeletons still absent from the dogheaded camp.

Within the domain, resources piled high like mountains.

He ignited a fire preparing some roasted meat.

Opening the lord's book, he found not only a scrolling chat, but also several private messages.

Boss, you Haven te run into trouble.

Have you? I have amassed quite a few resources eagerly waiting to trade for food.

Fonggha, why haven t you listed any food today? Boss, if you're in trouble, please let me know the location of your territory.

I want to claim my inheritance.

A myriad of messages, including inquiries from those with whom he had previously traded blueprints, all expressed concerns over Fonga's silence, as it was unusual for him not to have listed food by this hour.

Fon Hayan twice.

By listing food, he could assure others that he was indeed unscathed and alive.

In the chat channel, the conversation continued to flow.

Let me tell you, I caught a net full of skeletons today and the number is far greater than last time.

That is terrifying.

If it's too much, perhaps you should switch rivers.

This one must be toxic.

Nobody wants the fish you're selling.

Is your river the river of the dead? You're pulling bones from it every few days.

Are there piranas in that river? No.