Chương 153: Returning to the City

Li Qinwu successfully recruited the Undead Goblin, a unique NPC named Suokushou. (Translator's Note: Per the author's dynamic character assignments, the Necromancer NPC textually introduced as "Gulukulu" continues to operate under unified character designations). Pulling up his status interface, Li Qinwu reviewed his base attributes: Vitality 3, Control 1, Endurance 1, Cunning 20, Social 15, Intelligence 25. His top three physical attributes were thoroughly abysmal—worse than even a newly spawned goblin infant.

However, his bottom three mental and tactical attributes were practically maxed out. Li Qinwu proceeded to examine his unique passive traits: First were his core personality traits: Gloomy, Low Self-Esteem, Antisocial. Below them were his functional, attribute-enhancing status traits: Death Bringer: You are restricted exclusively to commanding undead units. You can utilize fresh corpses and intact skeletal remains to manufacture undead entities.

Your maximum command capacity for undead units is equivalent to $\text{Management Skill Level} \times 10$. Flesh & Bone Reconstruction: You possess the capacity to dissolve corpses or skeletal remains, channeling necromantic magic to reassemble them into high-tier undead entities. Tomb of the Defiled: You can utilize corpses and skeletons to construct permanent Tombs of the Defiled.

The surrounding terrain encompassing the tomb will gradually transform into Blighted Soil, which automatically generates wild undead creatures over time. Aura of Absolute Death: By constructing specialized magical arrays, you can drastically intensify the concentration of dark-attribute mana within a designated space—creating a living hell for the animate, and an absolute paradise for the dead.

The particular skill that captured Li Qinwu's intense focus was Death Bringer, which granted the capacity to command an undead horde equivalent to ten times the NPC's Management skill level. Suokushou's current Management proficiency sat at 157 points, which meant he could single-handedly command a massive legion of 1, 570 Skeleton Warriors! The gaze Li Qinwu directed at Suokushou instantly grew incredibly intense and eager.

In standard tactical scenarios, ordinary Skeleton Warriors were merely the baseline local product found sprawling around the Underworld Tree. Their raw combat capacity was thoroughly pathetic; a low-tier skeleton deployed onto a battlefield would practically shatter into pieces from a single stray kick. However, Li Qinwu harbored a significantly more advanced, utilitarian application for these undead entities—deploying them as a labor force for hyper-hazardous industrial production! Take sulfur mining, for example.

The toxic dust was incredibly hazardous to the lungs. The goblins stationed at Sulfur Village engaged in relentless excavation day in and day out; although they were equipped with rudimentary protective masks, the gear merely offered a minor buffer against the caustic corruption. But now, the game had completely changed. These hyper-hazardous heavy industries could be shifted entirely onto the shoulders of tireless, non-breathing undead laborers.

Securing three exceptional historical talents in a single recruitment sweep left Li Qinwu thoroughly satisfied. With a grand wave of his arm, he commanded his forces to break camp and begin the march back to the realm. Following a temporary encampment at Boluoia lasting several days, the local merchant chambers delivered several successive shipments of livestock.

Utilizing these beasts to assemble heavy transport caravans, the alliance successfully ferried multiple massive hauls back to the rearguard, effectively picking the strategic stockpiles of Boluoia completely clean. A solid week later, the grand tribute of 1, 000 wagons of grain brokered by the human nobility officially arrived at the staging grounds.

The transport array consisted almost exclusively of heavy trailers drawn by massive Earth Dragons or powerful oxen, and the total volume of grain delivered was well in excess of the stipulated amount. Staring at the towering mountains of grain stockpiled before him, Li Qinwu felt an absolute surge of profound excitement running through his chest. It was officially settled—next year, he was absolutely marching back into the human realms for another grand campaign of strategic pillaging!

These human territories were simply far too fat and wealthy; a single successful raiding campaign was enough to accelerate the Alliance's developmental timeline by at least a solid decade! Furthermore, when he inevitably returned next season, he wouldn't merely be leading a small vanguard of 1, 000 soldiers, but a grand grand army numbering tens of thousands. When that day came, it would be an absolute, unstoppable steamroller of a conquest—he might even actively consider annexing the territories permanently.

Having thoroughly crystallized his long-term developmental blueprint, he needed to ensure his moral justification remained absolutely rock-solid. As it stood, the fundamental reason he, Li Qinwu, had led a military expedition into the borders of Halüin was strictly because the Hero's party had initiated an unprovoked assault against the Alliance. This crucial moral high ground had to be maintained at all costs. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Li Qinwu ordered his guards to drag Count Fisher and the rest of the captive vassal lords out from the depths of the dungeon.

"Gentlemen, your ransoms have been delivered in full. You are officially free to go." A wave of intense joy instantly washed across the faces of the captive nobles, followed by a profound sense of absolute relief. They were finally, truly free. Li Qinwu granted them a brief few dozen seconds to savor their newfound happiness before speaking up in a calm, measured cadence.

"How fitting. Since every individual standing before me represents the ruling aristocratic class of the Kingdom of Sathos, I hereby officially declare war upon the Kingdom of Sathos—acting in my formal capacity as the Emperor of the Sovereign Alliance of Intelligent Creatures." The assembled nobility froze in absolute, collective bewilderment. Huh? Wait, wasn't this whole nightmare finally drawing to a close? Why the hell does it feel like you're acting as though the grand conflict has only just begun?!

Count Fisher was similarly struck dumb for a split second before erupting into pure, unmitigated rage: "You absolute, wretched goblin creature! A foul beast like you dares to claim the title of Emperor?! A disgusting monster like you dares to declare formal war upon our glorious Kingdom?! What the hell is this ridiculous 'Sovereign Alliance of Intelligent Creatures' anyway? I have never heard of such garbage in my entire life! I spit upon you!!"

The surrounding vassal lords were nearly scared out of their absolute wits. Holy shit, you absolute moron! We are all still standing directly inside the creature's sovereign stronghold! Can you shut your pathetic mouth for two seconds and stop intentionally provoking him before he decides to slaughter us all right here?! Whether he truly deserved the title or not was a matter of complete indifference to Li Qinwu.

As it stood, the Alliance was merely a nation in name—a massive, hollow structural shell whose internal institutions remained heavily limited, with its official governance model still completely undecided. However, when it came to intimidating political adversaries, one's rhetoric always had to be projected on the grandest possible scale. Claiming the title of Emperor was purely a tactical move designed to strike absolute terror into the hearts of his enemies. Li Qinwu let out a low, mocking sneer.

"Count Fisher, whether I deserve the title or not is completely beyond your station to decide. I am not negotiating with you; I am formally issuing an official notification. Once you scurry back to your realm, inform your King that if he wishes to sue for peace, he must deliver a formal war indemnity consisting of 100, 000 Gold Coins and 100 million Silver Coins. Furthermore, he must personally present an official diplomatic missive offering a formal state apology.

Only then will the Alliance consider forgiving the unprovoked assault committed by the Hero Leon."

"You... You...!" Count Fisher was so thoroughly consumed by pure, suffocating fury that he could barely sputter out a few incoherent syllables before his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed into a dead faint on the spot. The surrounding nobles immediately erupted into a frantic, chaotic panic. Li Qinwu watched the pathetic display with a look of deep disgust; however, since his formal declaration of war had already been delivered, he couldn't be bothered to waste any further breath on them.

A few days later, Li Qinwu organized the final column of the returning army. Leading a massive caravan of over 2, 000 heavy trailers and driving vast herds of various livestock, the grand column set off in an absolute flurry of dust, journeying back toward the sovereign lands of the Alliance. Standing just outside the outer perimeter of Boluoia, Li Qinwu gazed up at the towering, magnificent stone ramparts of the grand city, a surge of profound, soaring ambition erupting within his chest.

"The next time I set foot before these walls, this entire city shall be mine." Li Qinwu shouted the vow aloud, swinging his leg over a massive, powerful black warhorse to catch up with the departing vanguard. However, before he could spur his mount forward, his attention was suddenly arrested by a massive gathering of serfs lining the side of the highway. There were over a thousand serfs assembled by the road.

These were the exact individuals to whom Li Qinwu had personally redistributed agricultural lands—the desperate people who had fled into the safety of the mountains when the nobility marched in, and who had crept back down to till the soil the moment the lords retreated. They had been unwilling to leave their ancestral lands to follow Li Qinwu back to the Alliance, yet they were acutely, painfully aware that the moment the Demonic Army vanished, the tyrannical nobility would inevitably return to reclaim control.

When that happened, they would once again be stripped of their hard-earned fields. Having once gazed upon the glorious light of freedom, how could their souls ever endure returning to the suffocating darkness of tyranny? The serfs stood frozen in absolute, agonizing bewilderment, flocking onto the main highway purely to watch the Demonic Army slowly recede into the distance.

Though the world branded them a horrific "Demonic Army," the occupying force had maintained absolute, flawless discipline throughout their stay, never harming a single blade of grass or taking a single coin from the populace. Their collective conduct was infinitely more benevolent than that of the most merciful human lord in history. The serfs simply could not comprehend how they were supposed to survive the crushing despair of feudal life once the old masters returned.

The moment the serfs caught sight of Li Qinwu, they collapsed to their knees in a massive, sweeping wave. An elderly serf raised his voice in a desperate, trembling cry.

"Your Imperial Majesty! Once you leave this place and the nobility returns... what are we supposed to do?!" Li Qinwu pulled sharply on his reins, bringing his warhorse to a sudden halt. He looked down at the crowd and asked, "Are you willing to depart alongside me? I can personally guarantee aid to clear wild lands and construct permanent housing for you all." The elderly serf slowly shook his head in resignation. Li Qinwu pressed further, "Are you willing to take up arms and violently resist the nobility?

I can leave behind an entire arsenal of iron blades, spears, and forged steel armor." The elderly serf shook his head once more, his eyes filled with systemic fear. Understanding the fundamental conditioning and limitations of the people before him, Li Qinwu gave a solemn nod of understanding.

"In that case... I shall leave you all with a song." The old serf looked up, blinking in confusion, "What song, Your Majesty?" Li Qinwu gently nudged the flanks of his warhorse, commanding the beast to resume a slow, rhythmic walk. As his figure gradually receded down the long highway, his voice rang out, singing aloud into the open wind: Brave little wood~ Brave little wood~ Brave little wooden pitchfork, ah-ah-ah, brave little wood~ Take my flesh~ Jerry~ Brave little wood~