Chapter 436 – Filthy Premonition

In the Raging Wave Desert, within the territory of the Huaibien Kingdom, lay Moye City.

It was currently the Tender Season. Generally, even in the desert, this was the time when ordinary farmers would head to the oasis to plant desert crops. Moreover, it was dawn, so logically, a large city like Moye should have been bustling with streams of pedestrians and noise.

But in reality, Moye City was eerily silent, more so than ever before. The city walls, which should have been teeming with guards, were completely empty. The tightly shut gates had long been blocked by thick rocks that had risen abruptly from the ground. Only the crimson liquid seeping from the cracks in the shattered walls reflected a viscous glow under the morning light.

However… although the city had fallen into silence overnight, anyone arriving outside would likely understand what had happened inside this dead city.

Even without crossing the walls to enter the city, one could easily see a “hill” towering over the walls, erected within the city.

It was a mountain built from countless corpses, so high that even the majestic walls paled in comparison. Countless dismembered bodies and blood-stained bones formed the foundation of this mountain of corpses. Blood had formed rivers over the remains, and countless exposed organs, like stubborn rocks protruding from a barren mountain, were a horrifying sight!

Without a doubt, the moment one laid eyes on this mountain of corpses, all questions would be answered. With all the city gates sealed shut by magically infused rocks, the poor inhabitants of the city had likely become part of this towering structure…

This was undoubtedly a tragedy terrifying enough to enrage even the kindest of priests. Yet, the perpetrators of this atrocity felt no fear, guilt, or remorse. In fact, they were standing atop this mountain of corpses, engaged in a pleasant conversation.

Well, to be precise, only Kane was engaged in conversation. Punk was carefully placing the scattered remains of the Minotaur Shaman, stored in an iron bucket, at specific locations on the mountain of corpses.

Adjusting the nodes for the magical sacrifice was a meticulous task. The magical glow in Punk’s hands never ceased. Meanwhile, Kane, who couldn’t be of much help, sat idly on a corpse, polishing his gleaming lance.

“Hey, Punk, my old friend, is this method of yours even reliable? I traveled an hour with you to find this city, spent the whole night hunting down and killing every living soul, and even had to dismember all the corpses… It’s such a hassle, you know? And with all this commotion, we might alert our enemies or even attract those fanatical do-gooders… Seriously, if your magic doesn’t work, it’ll be such a waste.”

Kane complained as he watched Punk meticulously arrange the chaotic and disordered pile of corpses. Though his words were filled with doubt and sarcasm, his gaze toward Punk was actually tinged with a hint of complexity.This method of large-scale slaughter and piling up corpses was clearly intended as a sacrifice to some great entity. Spells of this nature were almost universally filled with danger and unpredictability. Generally, even mages who mastered such spells would never use them unless absolutely necessary.

For a mage like Punk to dare use it so “casually,” he was either a fearless madman or possessed astonishingly unique methods. For any mage, whether the former or the latter, both were enough to make anyone deeply apprehensive.

Hearing Kane’s bored yet meaningful complaint, Punk paid little attention. He merely said offhandedly, “If you think it’s unreliable, go find Sorsend yourself. Otherwise, watch quietly.”

Kane waved his hand helplessly and fell silent. Both the knight and the mage now shared a common enemy, and disrupting Punk’s spellcasting would do Kane no good, especially since Sorsend could attack at any moment.

Time flowed on without slowing. As Mila’s light faintly broke through the horizon, the last intact corpse was sliced and pulverized by the spell. Punk clapped his hands in satisfaction and flew back to the “mountain” peak.

Indeed, the spell Punk was about to use was the same Divination Spell—”Foul Divination”—that he had once employed in Doleiz City to locate the Haitzita Magic Box. As a spell capable of even uncovering Legendary Equipment, Punk had ample confidence in its effectiveness.

After all, this spell could directly connect with a wisp of consciousness from one of the only two remaining God-Throne entities in the multiverse—the Bird of Filth. Using it now to investigate a mere Master-Level Mage like Sorsend was almost too simple.

Had Punk not known Sorsend’s spellcasting rank beforehand, he might not have considered using this bizarre and extreme spell. Its most direct side effect was leaving a filth mark of the Bird of Filth on the caster’s soul. While the soul damage could be quickly repaired using the “Haitzita Soul Nurturing Resonance” solidified on the Haitzita Magic Box, the deeply rooted filth mark could only be removed after a major soul advancement, such as during a significant rank promotion.

If this eerie “Foul Divination” spell were used multiple times without removing the filth marks, Punk could state with certainty—once the accumulation reached a certain point, something extremely dire would inevitably occur.

Thus, although Foul Divination was outrageously powerful, akin to a cheat tool, its usage was limited. Punk had used it once at the Formal-Level, and the filth mark left then had completely vanished after his promotion to Master-Level. Starting from his Master-Level advancement, Punk estimated he could use Foul Divination at most five times without affecting his soul. Exceeding this limit… the consequences would be far beyond what a mere Master-Level Mage like him could bear.However, although each use of “Foul Divination” was extremely precious, Punk wouldn’t hesitate to employ it when necessary. After all, the enemy he now faced, Sorsend, was a genuine peak-level 19th Archmage. Having witnessed Ovakain’s power, Punk had already tasted how troublesome peak-level 19th experts could be. Using “Foul Divination” at this moment was absolutely necessary – regardless, the opponent’s achievement of eliminating five Master-Level experts was clearly evident. Under such circumstances, Punk couldn’t afford not to remain highly vigilant.

On the other hand… this Foul Divination could only be utilized during the Master-Level stage. Although this spell would likely remain highly effective even against Legendary Experts… but as a Legendary, would one dare openly contact the Foul Bird? Wouldn’t that be asking for the River of Fate to take notice?

Overall, Foul Divination remained a “use it or lose it” spell. If its deployment could help Punk gather more intelligence about Sorsend, then this usage opportunity wouldn’t be wasted.

Of course, Punk wouldn’t reveal this divination spell’s secret to Kane. If he couldn’t shake off this persistent knight, he wouldn’t be using the spell in front of this scheming paladin. Though currently, Punk didn’t particularly mind Kane’s company – having extra combat power or cannon fodder against Sorsend was certainly beneficial.

As for whether he might end up being used as cannon fodder himself… Punk’s attitude was – that would depend on their respective capabilities!

As the final stars dimmed beneath the sun’s radiance, gentle breezes carried the heavy scent of blood high into the air. When the last living soul had completely burned out within Punk’s spell gem, the mage standing in the morning sunlight calmly channeled vast amounts of mana into the prepared spell matrix.

“Alright, the spell preparation is complete. Now then… let me see just who this so-called Sorsend really is.”

(End of Chapter)