Chapter Twelve: Waiting, Infiltration

The bitter winds of a winter night tried every means to steal away all warmth. At this point, all Neo could do was curl up behind the wheat stalks in the fields, chew on a piece of tough meat, and patiently wait for dawn.

When silence settled in, emotions mixed with longing and worry became powerful temptations, stirring the heart and making blood surge. Neo clenched his wrist tightly—a habit he had developed to relieve stress. But this time, there was no “Mielin’s Favor” there. It was a wristband made to protect Neo’s injured wrist, with rough stitches and poor craftsmanship. Yet it had been crafted by Mielin herself and symbolized sincere affection.

“Huh…” Neo exhaled deeply. He tried hard to stop overthinking, telling himself that since he had taught her through words and actions, Mielin at least knew what to do in the face of an invasion. So she must still be alive, waiting for help. His task was to carry out a flawless infiltration and a perfect rescue.

In the deep night, if not for the cold wind occasionally lifting snowflakes into dance, Neo might have thought time had frozen forever. Outside, there was ice and snow, but inside him, a fire burned. He entered a light state of meditation—it couldn’t replace sleep, but it offered some benefit, better than mere exhaustion.

The wind blew away the gloom throughout the night. When it stopped and darkness deepened, Neo knew dawn was approaching.

When a warrior reaches level three, they begin to sense the power within their body and cultivate “battle energy.” This involves using willpower to control the muscles and organs, organizing and strengthening that power to create a source of greater strength.

Neo possessed abundant and high-quality mental energy, which greatly enhanced his control over his body. Thus, even after sitting for hours, his limbs remained flexible under his control. The cost was the depletion of his mental energy, physical strength, and “embryonic battle energy.”

Neo did not shake the snow from his cloak. The gray cloak, along with the falling snow, provided excellent camouflage at dawn. He couldn’t rely solely on the hope that the cold weather would make those dark minions sluggish.

With steady and confident steps, even while infiltrating, Neo never appeared hunched, with bent legs or a sneaky posture. Unlike rogues, he trusted more in assessing and controlling the situation, taking advantage of timing gaps and human weaknesses rather than trying to disguise himself as an inconspicuous insect.

Not far ahead, the trembling, magically charged cries of wandering spirits could be heard—sounds like metal scraping, produced by the friction of energy. They were calling one another to return to their graveyards.

Natural wandering spirits and ghosts usually had graves as their resting places. Some with strong attachments could cling to objects they loved in life, such as mirrors, rings, or commemorative coins. It was said that spirits on the verge of becoming fierce ghosts might not even need such objects. But one thing was common to them all: they could not act in daylight.

Almost trailing behind the wraiths, Neo moved along the riverbank toward Tulip Town. The path was difficult to navigate, as it hardly could even be called a path. The center of the river seemed flat, but Neo knew it was only an illusion—the River Bow hadn’t fully frozen yet in this season. Beneath the snow-covered ice lay cold, flowing water that could drain a person’s body heat in just 5–7 minutes, leading to organ failure and death.

Screech…

The wraith at the back suddenly stopped mid-flight, raised its clawed arms, let out a sharp cry, and glared fiercely into the distance—it had sensed a living presence.

Neo was unaware that the icy, putrid, foul stench of the dead surrounded him. From such a distance, he could only confirm their existence without being able to analyze it further.

But rather than pinpointing the exact location and condition of the wraiths, Neo was more concerned about when daylight would arrive and the progress of his mission. To reach outside the town walls before dawn, he decided to speed up.

Hiss…

The wraith confirmed the presence of a living being and swam toward Neo’s direction.

Just then, the light of dawn began to appear on the eastern horizon. As the light grew brighter, the darkness faded like a veil, slowly receding from the sky. The scattered clouds on the horizon turned red, as if heated cast iron.

The wraith, about to see Neo, let out a monstrous cry and hurried back toward the town at high speed. Wraiths were fierce creatures that hated all living beings. They were also tragic—having harbored intense resentment and dissatisfaction during their lives due to a lack of control, they remained powerless and fearful even after death. Their strength had merely shifted from worldly power to natural power.

To be a hero in life and a fearsome spirit in death—the strength of one’s soul will never change with the environment. It doesn’t change even after death. The wraith’s inherent fear caused it to retreat at a critical moment; it lacked the courage to face death head-on.

The light in the east grew brighter, turning the scenery there golden.

Neo started running. He no longer cared whether he was getting too close to the wraiths and being seen. Day had broken, and they were destined to return to their graveyards. For now, they were no longer a threat. Even if they were to inform the necromancer who controlled them, that would take at least dozens of minutes. By then, if his plan succeeded, he would already be inside the town.

Almost simultaneously with the wraiths, Neo reached beneath the low walls of Tulip Town. Before that, he had even seen the wraiths’ lower bodies, like swirling smoke.

Without hesitation, Neo took off, leaped high, placed his hands on the edge of the 4-meter-high parapet, used his arms to push himself upward, did a forward flip in midair, landed steadily on the wooden walkway behind the wall, then flipped down from the platform and vanished behind a wooden pillar into the shadows.

If any observers were present at that moment, they would surely cheer for Neo, marveling at his seamless, fluid movements that were as pleasing to watch as a circus performance.

Udrit was surrounded by mountains to the north and south, with troops stationed to the east and west. Having enjoyed peace for a long time, structures like Tulip Town—characterized by thick stone walls with wooden walkways inside—were quite typical. The walkways and platforms were made by piecing together logs, covering them with planks and supporting them with wooden pillars, which created large shadows between them. Clutter was often piled up there, making it easy to hide someone. Even advanced Dark Cultists with night vision found it difficult to see distant areas during the dimmest and most variable times of day, such as dawn and dusk. Of course, if they knew how to paint their eyes black, as it was becoming common now, things would be much better.

“Hey! There seems to be someone over there!” One of the Dark Cultists seemed to have seen a figure moving and making noise about 20 meters away.

“Yeah, they used to be humans, but not anymore. Ah… so tired. In this damned weather, the right thing to do is sleep in a warm bed with a woman. What’s the point of patrolling?”

“I’m serious. There really was someone over there just now!” The Dark Cultist said, drawing his black iron sword and heading in the direction ofNeo.

“Great, there’s someone! Someone! You must be crazy. Last night I told you to shoot a blast, but you picked and chose. Could you even get a decent girl? That woman was fine too—big breasts, big ass, and very responsive. It was fun, damn it!”

The Dark Cultist holding the black iron sword remained silent, his face dark. He was originally a townsman here, and though he was a scoundrel, that didn’t mean his humanity had completely vanished. But in the past two days, nothing he’d done was human-like. “I’ve been screwed!” he screamed inwardly more than once. But what could he do? He had no way back. In this world, the greatest sin was betrayal, and worse than betrayal—something that angered both gods and humans, condemned by both good and evil—was repeated betrayal.

His remaining humanity examined the evil deeds he had committed. Along with some regret, there was mostly worry—fear of failure, fear that those he had persecuted and betrayed might one day turn against him. Thus, like most lackeys and traitors, they were often more fierce, cruel, and dedicated than ordinary Dark Cultists. Many people wondered: This land gave birth to you and raised you. These are your fellow villagers. What did you do to them? Do you have to be that cruel? You’ll all die, never able to get back up. If I let you live, I won’t be able to sleep!

In a dark corner,Neo stood motionless, his eyes slightly closed. He didn’t look at the Dark Cultist with the sword, fearing that his murderous intent might be sensed. After all, his understanding of the Dark Cultists was very superficial. It was hard to say whether they had senses or intuition similar to that of spellcasters or mid-to-high-level warriors, so it was better to be cautious.

“Come out! I see you! If you cooperate, you might keep your life. Otherwise, hmph!” The Dark Cultist shouted at the darkness, feigning strength while kicking up a puff of snow to emphasize his words.

Another Dark Cultist beside him looked helpless, acting as a foil, his expression exactly that of someone accompanying a drunk, unreasonable companion.

No one came out; all there was was silence and increasingly bright light. The dark cultist with the sword ended his final probe with a series of feint strikes, sheathed his sword, muttered curses under his breath, and led the way without looking back. Another dark cultist shrugged and followed. Shortly after,Neo emerged from another shadow, glanced at the retreating figures, and calmly headed toward the town. The Torres estate of the Manmores had three settlements—mainly this Tulip Town with over a hundred households, plus another vineyard area and an agricultural farm, all of whichNeo was well familiar with. Before this infiltration, he had made careful plans: which place would be suitable for hiding, which one might easily be chosen as a resting spot for the dark cultists, and the general course of action—all of which he had thought through repeatedly. Now, he moved without any hesitation, heading straight for his target. At Malfoy’s inn, after glancing at the rather old wooden sign,Neo pushed the door open and stepped in. Blood and death would begin on this sunny morning.