In this world, human magicians are pitifully few. Across the entire continent, the total number of human magicians does not exceed a thousand. Among the ranks specifically designated for magicians, low-level and mid-level magicians make up the vast majority, while high-level magicians are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. There are only about a dozen or twenty high-level human magicians officially recorded on the whole continent. Their rarity determines their value—every high-level magician is someone the Empire desperately tries to win over. On Razor Continent, high-level offensive magic is absolutely a weapon of mass destruction, a strategic deterrent for any nation.

As for the even higher-ranked Saint-level magicians, the two great human empires on the continent each have one, for a total of only two Saint-level grand magicians.

High-level magicians are, to ordinary people, as mighty as towering mountains. Today, this mountain bearing the mark of the undead appeared in the small village without any warning. Even in this remote, almost isolated mountain village, there was no one who didn’t know the infamous name of Walter Reed! No—there was one left: only Henry Clark didn’t know.

Little Walter quickly supported the staggering Old Charlotte and asked, “Dad, who is Walter Reed?” Henry Clark at least understood that the donkey couldn’t answer this question.

Old Charlotte’s face was pale as he pointed at the black-robed figure and said, “Him, Walter Reed is him!”

Henry Clark rolled his eyes. “Damn! I’m asking what’s Walter Reed’s background!”

Walter Reed seemed very satisfied with the villagers’ fear and panic, and no longer bothered to enhance his voice with magic: “Be afraid, dear slaves. One hundred and thirty-seven people. To be honest, your souls aren’t much, but the generous Lord Walter Reed won’t hold it against you…” His hoarse voice was full of contempt for life. Clusters of black undead aura swirled and twisted endlessly in front of Walter Reed. More than a dozen bloodthirsty zombies slowly spread out, blocking the only road from Horseshoe Village to the outside world.

This was a battle with no suspense. Even if the villagers were replaced by an army of equal size, there would be no chance of escaping the pursuit of a high-level magician. But as the Empire’s only official representative in Horseshoe Village, Mr. Todd still mustered his courage, drew the long sword symbolizing imperial law, and interrupted Walter Reed’s words: “Bastard, take your disgusting zombies and leave Horseshoe Village at once, or you will face the Empire’s punishment!” As he spoke, he spun his sword in a flourish and pointed it at the magician opposite him. Sir Todd was, after all, a bronze-crowned knight officially appointed by the Empire—usually, even seven or eight strong men couldn’t defeat him alone. Now, with all the villagers hiding behind him, the sheriff was filled with a sense of knightly honor.

Walter Reed stared at the gleaming tip of the sword, stretched out a deathly pale finger, and swiftly drew a strange magical symbol in the air. At the same time, his sinister voice suddenly echoed in everyone’s ears: “Undead curse—those who threaten me shall suffer the punishment of the skin!”

Amidst the black light flickering through the air, a streak suddenly flashed and disappeared into Mr. Todd’s forehead. The fat Todd let out a muffled groan and collapsed to the ground, screaming and rolling in agony. His skin began to constrict tightly around him at a speed visible to the naked eye, squeezing tighter and tighter, until in moments, cracked lines crawled all over Todd’s body.

The villagers all let out a terrified scream and scattered aimlessly, leaving a wide open space, with only the sheriff writhing in pain on the ground. Walter Reed burst into wild laughter: “That’s right! You should be afraid, be angry, because you, and your parents, children, brothers, and sisters will all die. And for you, death is only the beginning of suffering! Look at your babies still in swaddling clothes, look at your aging parents beside you—the angrier you are, the stronger the power I gain. Isn’t this a very…”

Suddenly, someone interrupted Walter Reed in the common tongue of the continent, spoken with a Tianjin accent: “You finally came.” A young man with black hair and yellow skin pushed aside the trembling villagers and strode forward: “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time!” Henry Clark’s expression was resolute yet sorrowful, as if he were marching to his execution, stirring up a strong urge to shout “Down with imperialism!”

Walter Reed was a bit stunned: Waiting for me for a long time?

Henry Clark sneered and continued righteously, “Let them go. You’re here to catch me! I know, you’re from Wujiayao Anning Hospital!” Then Henry Clark enunciated each word heavily: “Si! Li! Pu! Doctor!”

From the day Little Walter crossed over, he had been anxiously waiting for Wujiayao to come and take him back. In the mind of a paranoid, the doctors and nurses of Anning Hospital were beings on par with the gods, and the hospital security guards were as formidable as archangels. Now, with a powerful figure suddenly appearing, Little Walter’s delusional mind immediately classified Walter Reed as a subordinate unit of Anning Hospital…

Henry Clark looked at the still-dazed Walter Reed with mournful eyes and shouted, “I’ve already come here—why won’t you let me go!!”

Walter Reed blinked at Henry Clark for a while, then finally relaxed and laughed: “Damn, he’s a lunatic!”