Chapter 23: Reunion in Disaster

The filth on his body made Neo seem as if he had just crawled out of a sewer, and the foul smell was a torment to his exceptionally keen sense of smell.
Neo had no intention of cleaning himself, though he might be one of the rare clean-minded ones among werewolves. But this was clearly not the time to go to the arena for a fight—looking presentable was useless. Instead, those undead creatures that hunted humans by sensing anger would lose interest in him due to his filth, which was exactly what he wanted.
Without the wandering ghosts on patrol, Neo became much bolder this time. Taking advantage of the dim light of dusk, he approached Tulip Town along the Bow River once again and managed to sneak in. All that was disturbed was a Terrestrian hound sniffing suspiciously and a few whimpers.
Meanwhile, in the small living room on the second floor of Lord Manmoris’s mansion, the necromancer Eirius sipped slowly from a cup of dark red liquid. He would drink a little every time he woke up.
Eirius followed the same schedule as vampires—active at night and resting during the day. But his eating habits were very different; he preferred wine over blood.
“Hmph, those bloodthirsty brutes…” Eirius thought of one of his enemies, of the past, of his former wife, and of how his son, if still alive, would be about the same age as Fatak…
Eirius swallowed the wine in his mouth forcefully.
Fatak was dead, killed in a despicable ambush. And Datha, who had gone out to capture the killer, still hadn’t reported back to him.
“Could it be that even this new guy dares to defy my authority?” The thought flashed through Eirius’s mind for only a second before he dismissed it. “There must be another explanation!” Eirius curled his lips and muttered, “Swine! Hiding to avoid punishment for failing to chase them?”
Eirius gently swirled the wine in his glass with his twig-like fingers when suddenly he whistled. A short while later, the sound of wings came, and an undead owl covered in tattered feathers flew in through the broken, open window, landing on the frost-covered oak table.
It spoke loudly and authoritatively, “Go find Datha!”
Then Eirius muttered, “This time he’s in trouble! I don’t care if he’s one of Gorton’s favored magi.”
Although both the demon faction and the necromancy faction served the devils, they often had conflicts. Eirius didn’t mind finding ways to deal with those in the demon faction, but their leader, Gorton, was known for protecting his own. More importantly, Gorton was a Level 10 Eternal Night Warrior. So even though Gorton wasn’t here, Eirius still felt some apprehension.
The undead owl tilted its head, chirped at Eirius twice, then flew away.
Eirius continued sipping his wine, lost in his thoughts. Patience led to success—good plans and clever words, just like this Tulip Black Wine, needed to be crafted carefully. That was what his teacher had taught him. Though Eirius often forgot his teacher’s advice, he remembered it this time because he had plenty of time.

As agreed, no blood-colored fireworks rose in Solth City, not even any crimson ones—indicating that the plan was going quite smoothly. Eirith believed that the two most important armies in Erdrit Domain, the West Wind Berserkers and the Eagle Knights, must now be severely weakened, meaning Black Iron Homeland would not be able to muster a decent armed force for some time.

“Like a young woman whose springtime beauty has faded…” Eirith smirked, finding the metaphor apt and wonderful—so wonderful that it reminded him of some pleasant activities.

Eirith set down his glass and clapped his hands. A necromancy apprentice waiting in the corridor pushed the door open and entered, bowing to him. “My lord, how may I serve you?”

“Get her ready—number 6. Her smooth skin is truly impressive.”

The necromancy apprentice nodded in understanding before asking tentatively, “This time, in the bedroom?”

“No, in the study. Lord Manmoris’s pearwood desk is perfect, especially for highlighting skin as creamy and fair,” Eirith murmured in admiration.

A young woman, youthful, plump, with a hint of shyness and restraint, plus those pitiful pleading eyes—tsk tsk! Eirith thought his tastes were quite good. The important thing was to know how to enjoy oneself in time. As for Fatak’s death, at least he already had an idea on how to shift as much blame as possible onto the “beast-people.”

Just as Eirith was ready to indulge in a “study seduction” spectacle, the immortal owl returned, its shiny beak holding one eyeball—Datha’s.

Eirith knew exactly what this meant, but to be safe, he had someone check with the shapeshifter Imothon. The result was that neither Datha nor any of his squad members had returned.

Eirith had no mood for women anymore; he even wanted to smash the expensive glass cup in his hand.

Those low-level undead and magic dogs could be casually dismissed in a report. But necromancer Duee (dead in the North Bayleaf Forest), necromancer Fatak, and shapeshifter Datha—these three were core members of his Tulip Squad (named after the mission destination). There were only 7 core members in total, and now 3 were dead, with 2 having powerful backgrounds—this was hard to explain.

What worried Eirith even more was that so far, nearly 40 Soul Tombs had been destroyed, over 100 low-level undead killed, nearly 60 magic dogs slain, plus 14 demonized individuals. Combined, this represented one-third of the Tulip Squad’s combat strength.

They had been wiped out in just two days, yet their side still didn’t even have basic information like the enemy’s origin or approximate numbers—this was infuriating and even terrifying.

Eirith stood up and paced the room, estimating the opponent’s situation as usual.

“To have successfully wiped out our forces twice, the enemy must be a well-trained squad of at least 40 people, with at least 5 professionals at levels 5–6. Otherwise, even in an ambush, it would be impossible to capture Datha and the others!”

Eirwen seemed to see Datha and his group chasing the werewolf into the jungle, where ambushes suddenly emerged from all sides in the snow. Datha tried to lead his men to break through, but three professionals at level 5 or 6 surrounded him. Several other professionals of similar strength, along with sergeants, encircled, separated, and annihilated the panicked demonized beings and the brute-force-only magic dogs…
“Hmm, that seems likely. So, what kind of force is this?” Eirwen continued to speculate. “Could it be a patrol sent by the West Wind Warriors or the Eagle Knights? Maybe. According to the plan, after the raid on Thors, our forces will be at their weakest at dawn, luring the enemy to the blood sacrifice site. At that time, the West Wind Warriors or Eagle Knights might think they have victory in hand, so they send a team to patrol the southern plains. But the Eagle Knights aren’t good at jungle battles—those rough-and-tumble West Wind Warriors are barely competent. A frontal attack at noon would be more in line with their usual style. Today is a perfect sunny day.”
“It’s not them. Could it be an adventuring party passing by, heading to the Monstoke Wasteland to search for gold? Well, that’s possible too. The world is never short of fools who die from greed, especially among humans, particularly the gold-obsessed citizens of the Frey Union. Tures’ wine is famous throughout half of Frey. Maybe those guys are after the generous reward for saving the Manmoris family and the townspeople of Tulip Town…”
Eirwen didn’t consider the nobles’ private armies because he knew very well that the nobles were already preoccupied with their own affairs. He admitted that most of the knights under the nobles were skilled, but their lords weren’t necessarily so. At least six land nobles should have fallen into their hands after the raid on Thors. Incidents like the occupation of Tulip Town were happening across the entire southern plains. The knights of Ederit were now nothing but stray dogs who had lost both their lair and their lords.
Anyway, Eirwen felt he was being targeted by a group of wolf-like enemies whose tactical style was the one he disliked the most. But he had to try to understand his opponents.
“Those damned guys have moved their forces to annihilate us, sent people to steal the Soul Tomb, and killed two mages one after another. They’re rushing to target magical targets—clearly, magical defense is their weakness. In this group, if there are any spellcasters, it’s only 1 or 2 not very skilled ones. By eliminating the most threatening targets first, it seems these guys have big plans. Stealing the Soul Tomb also suggests they’re skilled in night battles and good at creating chaos. They must have already done some scouting of the town and learned about the laborers digging!”
Thinking of this, Eirwen couldn’t stay still. It was already night, and those lazy ‘man-beasts’ weren’t as diligent as wandering spirits. He had to release the immortals he had cultivated in the magic circle to mix with the ‘man-beasts’ to enhance their defensive capabilities. Additionally, he needed to warn Imorton that the picks and shovels in the hands of those laborers were just simple weapons. When they saw hope or were incited, chaos would arise, and then the enemy would take advantage to strike…

“Damn it! Damn it!” Eirlys clenched his fists and strode outside, muttering angrily. The undead, including wandering spirits, cultivated in those magic arrays had been part of his important research project. He had long struggled for an opportunity to put it into practice. Now that he had finally succeeded by occupying Tulip Town, he had to abandon it halfway, which filled him with rage. As for dealing with cunning enemies, he felt somewhat confident about that.

Meanwhile, Nio, who was well-acquainted with the terrain of Tulip Town, had completed the search for two hiding places. Finding nothing only deepened his gloom.

“Mellien…” Nio couldn’t even bear to imagine what Mellien might have become if she had fallen into the hands of those dark forces!

In the northeast corner of Tulip Town stood a two-story building. Its appearance and the signs of frequent repairs indicated that it was at least 100 years old.

It was the ancestral home of the Manmores. Mellien’s great-great-grandfather had spent most of his life there. According to the Manmores’ family tradition, the building was preserved as a significant site with commemorative and educational value. Before taking over as the new head of the family, one was even required to live there for a considerable time to experience the hardships of starting and maintaining a business.

Even few of the Manmores’ servants knew that there was a secret room beneath the building, used as a refuge from war and violence. Before hiring the Vidennis wolves to guard the western pass, the region had not been peaceful.

At that moment, a filthy scene was unfolding in that underground room.

A boy around thirteen or fourteen was already knocked unconscious, while a girl in her seventeens was pinned down by a strong man.

“Carlon, no, please!” the girl sobbed softly. Her arms were pressed down by the man’s knees, leaving her completely immobile.

“Why not?” The man’s eyes gleamed with excitement and lust. His thick, scarred hands wandered over the girl’s curvaceous body.

Bending down and sticking out his tongue, Carlon licked the girl’s pale skin on her chest and neck several times before whispering with a lewd laugh, “Delicate lamb, I’ve wanted to devour you for a long time. Your rigid father is dead, haha! That little wolf who protected you is also dead. This is the third night—no rescue in sight. It seems the noble lords are too busy taking care of themselves. We need to save ourselves, but escaping requires strength. Right?”

Carlon spoke slowly as he slipped one hand into the girl’s skirt. Feeling the smooth skin of her surprisingly elastic thighs, he let out a long sigh. He was an experienced man with many lovers and knew well how to tame beautiful girls.

“You’ve eaten most of the food… the only food we have…” the girl whimpered in pain. She didn’t dare make much noise—she had to protect her brother, as her father had repeatedly instructed her before leaving.

“Yes!” Carlon said shamelessly, “But that’s far from enough. I’m going out to fight now! To fight for you two burdens! Don’t I need some passion to motivate me?”

Caron, appearing very wise, continued, “Besides, you should also learn to enjoy the beauty between men and women and try to pick up some skills. I’m far better at this than your wolf, so I’m fully qualified to be your teacher. You see, once we get out, you’ll need these skills—for the Manmores, for your brother. Think about it—the nobles’ preferences, masked balls, nights of passion—you’ve surely heard of these, right?”
Weaknesses, vulnerabilities. Caron knew exactly where the girl’s weaknesses lay.
His other hand reached into the girl’s collar and grasped one of her soft breasts, his expression filled with excitement and pleasure.
“Mmm…” The girl’s body trembled, and anyone could sense the deep sorrow and anguish through her suppressed cries and tremors.
But Caron felt no pity at all. On the contrary, her reaction only further stimulated him; he felt his lower body becoming severely engorged.
A little woman, a delicate flower—once it lost its protection, it became nothing but a toy for others to abuse. That was Caron’s view of the girl beneath him—cruel, but accurate.
It didn’t take much effort for Caron to imagine that if this girl managed to escape, given her family’s situation, she would most likely end up married to some flashy noble with no real power—a ugly man, an old man. Even before that, she might already have been used by several men and continued to maintain physical relationships with them, not just one. By then, she might even be willing to maintain a pure physical relationship with her “loyal guardian,” that is, him, Knight Caron, because she would have grown spoiled under his careful training—how could those weak men satisfy her?
Of course, for now, this was just a beautiful wish. Not to mention the difficulty of escaping Tulip Town with two burdens, just that little brat alone wouldn’t let him stay alive. The girl was the kind who couldn’t keep secrets; once the child woke up, he would surely discover something, figure out the truth, and hold a grudge…
“Damn you,Neo! The wolf pup you raised is a real ungrateful wretch!” Caron cursed inwardly. He knew very well about the fourteen-year-old boy, Dave Manmore, his ruthlessness and wisdom, as well as some truly outstanding qualities that could shape a person’s life. With these, as long as the boy stayed alive, his future achievements would definitely not be poor. And all of this was the result ofNeo’s teachings and influence.
Yet it was this proud boy who reportedNeo and Milien’s relationship, which society couldn’t tolerate, to his father. They had gone too far—while a noblewoman could be promiscuous and lose her reputation, she couldn’t marry a servant, let alone a werewolf. From a worldly perspective, it was like a woman marrying a pig and planning to live openly and raise children. Not to mention Lord Manmore couldn’t afford such a loss; if it happened, the entire Erdrit territory would become a laughingstock among the three great kingdoms.

Thus, Lord Manmores resolutely and thoroughly, using the usual tactics of the nobility, labeled Nio as a “rebel and degenerate” and sentenced her to death.
At the thought of Lord Manmores, Karon felt a sense of vindictive pleasure. He was the captain of Manmores’ guards, and Lord Manmores had shown him favor, but that meant nothing. Ever since he saw the gold coins earned by the Manmores family after a wine deal one winter, every time he received his pay, Karon couldn’t help but think of those chests of gold, of the disparity, driving him mad until resentment built up deep in his heart. Yes, he hated Lord Manmores more than he felt grateful.
“Old fool, you probably never dreamed in your life that I would recklessly enjoy the town’s most beautiful tulips…” Karon thought with vengeance.
He could sense that his words had taken effect—the poor fool beneath him was barely resisting anymore. With no will to fight and no desire to die, Karon believed he could soon arouse her physical desire, and then, true enjoyment would begin.
“Future little bitch, thinking the humiliation you’re suffering now will pass. But you don’t know—it’s just the beginning, just the beginning…”
The temperature in the secret room was a bit low, but it didn’t matter. Karon was already burning with desire; he was ready to “pick the flower.” The girl’s constant murmurs—“Nio, forgive me!”—were the perfect fuel. It felt forbidden, domineering, indulgent, wild, and even tragically beautiful…
Karon smiled as he undressed the girl in a sensual manner. He was already fully aroused, but it was nothing compared to hers. The night was long, and he was an expert in this art. He wanted to hear those melodious moans, to make this delicate girl suffer ecstasy beneath him. He was too excited, too happy, to the point of losing the vigilance and instinct for danger expected of a level-four warrior. He didn’t sense anything—right behind him, a slight draft blew, caused by the door to the secret room being slightly opened and then quickly closed.
Then, like a teenager waking from a dream just as orgasm approaches, Karon was about to reach climax when he woke up. What woke him were two sharp swords.
The swords pierced his back simultaneously, emerging from his armpits. The intense pain nearly knocked him out instantly. He instinctively opened his mouth to scream, but a stinking cloth was roughly stuffed into it. Then, severe pain in his legs made him realize before losing consciousness that both of his legs had been broken! His thighs weren’t broken, but they were crushed.
The silhouette before him, the rhythm of breathing, the movements—everything about her was all too familiar to the girl! Even though there were no lights in the secret room, only the faint glow from a small mirror reflecting the last light outside, the girl recognized Nio at once! In an instant, an unprecedented force erupted within her. She sprang up from the cold ground, threw herself into Nio’s arms, buried her hands in his hair, scratching and holding him tightly, kissing him passionately.
Nio wrapped one arm around her waist and hips, while the other rested on her slightly thin shoulders, holding her back and neck, returning her kisses with deep affection.

No words are needed; the physical gestures of wanting to merge completely with each other are the best language.
In that moment, both people feel as though they have regained their lost lives…
Volume 3: The Savior