The old man's body trembled slightly, not out of fear, but rather from excitement and exhilaration.

Before Fong How could respond, he continued, "Lord the undead, I am willing to offer my loyalty and everything I possess in exchange for your allegiance.

" Old Ephoon knelt before the ground, his forehead pressed to the floor.

He had come to realize that the figure before him was no mere human youth, but a grand being of the undead.

The human guise he presented was but an illusion.

Otherwise, he would not be seated upon a throne of bones.

Commanding the multitude of undead below him.

Upon hearing the old man's words, Fonggha's brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at Nelson.

What does this mean? Have we encountered a devote of the god of the undead? Or does he harbor a peculiar fascination with bones? prompting such fervor.

Perceiving Fong How's inquiring gaze, Nelson leaned closer to whisper, "His vitality has withered.

He seeks to attain immortality.

" Funhow nodded slightly, indicating his understanding.

The notion of immortality was a term employed by the undead, essentially signifying a transformation into their realm.

This old man was far too advanced in age.

Even with the most potent of elixirs, his time was limited.

Thus, he was desperate to find a means to prolong his existence, whether by becoming a blood sucker or an undead, as long as he could continue to live.

Present to me the diary and the key, Fongghao commanded.

Old Efu produced an ancient notebook from his embrace and handed it to the beastared girl beside him, who then passed it into Fonggha's hands.

My lord, the key was utilized this morning.

We ventured to the ancient tomb and employed the key on the first bronze door, but it could not be removed.

So, we left it there, Old Eie Fu explained.

Fong Hao accepted the diary and casually flipped through a couple of pages, confirming it contained information regarding the tomb.

So, you sought this ancient tomb in pursuit of a method to prolong your life? Fongo inquired as he closed the aged notebook.

Indeed, I would not dare deceive you.

My lord, Oldief Fu replied respectfully.

Do you know where the other parts of the tomb's master are? Uh, other parts? I am unaware.

Old Efu shook his head.

Was it possible that the tomb did not contain a complete body, but rather dismembered remains? Fonhow nodded again, stating, "Very well, take him away.

" Although the old man complied, he was no fool, and bringing him back yielded no useful information.

The diary was the sole treasure acquired when time permitted.

Fong ho intended to delve into its contents to grasp the unfolding narrative.

No, my lord, grant me a chance to pledge my loyalty.

I do not wish to perish.

I am willing to offer all my wealth to you.

I possess many slaves in my estate, all of whom can serve as offerings.

Oldfoo cried out desperately.

His frantic search for the tomb stemmed from an acute awareness of death's impending approach.

Having already encountered the undead, he was even more reluctant to meet his demise at this juncture.

Funghow regarded the horse old man and gently shook his head.

All right, take him to the transformation pool.

Thereafter, you shall become one of the undead and serve me.

Old Eph's face brightened, and he seized his shouting and struggling.

After rising to gracefully bow, he willingly followed the skeleton towards the pool of transformation.

With the old man gone, Nelson and the others retreated to their respective dwellings.

Under the glow of the luminous stone lamp, Fongo resumed his examination of the diary with meticulous attention.

He read from beginning to end, comprehending all except for a few missing pages in the middle.

The story's lord was indeed a formidable character, fearing death and desiring transformation into a vampire, while also fearing the town's folks discovery of his intentions.

Thus, he resolved to convert the entire town into vampires.

This lord had likely devised this plan long ago.

All prior actions were merely steps towards the final delivery of wine to every household.

Once the entire town was transformed, any remaining stragglers would be of little consequence.

Impressive, Fongo remarked, simultaneously noting a particular line in the diary.

Damn Chester, the cursed deceiver.

Chester was presumably the name of the Lord, indicating that there was, after all, some gain from this endeavor.

After finishing the diary, Fongo returned to his chamber and fell into a deep slumber.

The following day, after breakfast, a skeletal dragon descended directly upon the Pigman village, inciting a frenzy.

Upon witnessing Fong, how and Ja top the dragon's back.

Several pigmen hurried to inform their chieftain, Petty.

My lord, I was unaware of your personal visit.

Petty exclaimed as he rushed to greet them, typically whenever Fong How had matters to discuss.

He would employ divine dissent and seldom make an appearance in person.

This was due to the considerable distance and safety concerns.

One could never predict the bizarre phenomena that might threaten 1 s life in this world.

Kme, let us converse within," Fongo suggested, leading the way into the chieftain's hall, where Pigman promptly served them fruit wine.

Fonhow had previously gifted the Pigman village a massive brewing barrel, allowing them to partake in the delightful beverage.

"My lord, what brings you here on this occasion?" Petty inquired with curiosity, recognizing that Fong how as presence signified an important matter.

How many orc villages lie to the north, extending towards the bloody mountains, and what is their strength? Funhao asked.

Petty paused momentarily, mentally tallying the information.

The northern villages are rather scattered, and our interactions with them have been minimal.

There are approximately over 10 villages, but I have heard that warfare has erupted in this period, such as the nature of orcs.

10 villages may dwindle to five overnight due to raids only for wandering tribes to migrate and reestablish numbers.

This cycle of conflict and migration is unceasing.

Currently, the Pigman village enjoys the protection of the undead and is in a phase of lowprofile development, having had little contact with other villages for quite some time.

Consequently, providing specific numbers prove challenging.

We must devise a way to gather the chieftains of all villages.

We are neighbors and it is high time we become acquainted.

Chapter 194.

Investigating the murderer.

Is it true? Petty observed that Fongo did not appear to be justesting.

It seemed unlikely that such a serious matter would arise from a casual conversation between neighbors.

Indeed, and time is of the essence.

It would be best to gather all these individuals by tomorrow.

Fongo underscored the urgency.

Petty's expression turned grave, indicating that a significant issue had arisen.

May I inquire about the reason, my lord? Given Fong Hao<unk>s character, his sudden concern for the vicinity of Pigman Village must stem from some pressing development.

There's nothing much to tell, but please keep it to yourself, Fongghao replied.

Understood, my lord.

To the north of Pigman Village lies the Bloodthroat tribe.

Have you heard of it? Fongo inquired.

Petty shook her head.

My lord, Pigman village was relocated here, and we are not well acquainted with the area.

Yes, the Bloodthroat tribe is a troll tribe, and there is a significant likelihood they will launch an assault against us.

To ensure our safety, I must mitigate all potential dangers, including the scattered tribes to the north of the village.

Fong, how elucidated.

Petty's expression grew even more somber.

She never anticipated that a troll tribe would initiate an attack from the north.

If that were the case, the village would be the first to suffer the consequences.

W, what should we do, my lord? Petty stammered, her first instinct being to relocate the village.

Perhaps they could hide until the conflict subsided before returning.

Do not worry.