Chapter 143: Introduction to Curses (Part 2)

“He’s been released, shall we start?” Ram said eagerly.

Wu Qingsong, of course, couldn’t use his own people as test subjects. Fortunately, there were plenty of outsiders in the territory, among whom a particular group often got into trouble after getting drunk and ended up being detained.

Harold quickly obtained blood from a chowman arrested for brawling while intoxicated. It was an effortless task. His head had been cracked open with a chair, and when offered a cloth to wipe his wound, they easily collected the blood.

Wu Qingsong had prepared a magic circle on the table using obsidian powder, encircled by three candles made from rendered corpse fat. The bloodied cloth was placed at the center of the circle. He then focused on the circle, meditating in accordance with the procedures outlined in the manuscript.

Despite the absence of any breeze in the room, as he meditated over and over, the three candles suddenly went out after burning intensely in an unnatural manner.

“What do you feel?” Xeila asked.

“Nothing at all,” Wu Qingsong said honestly.

“Did it work?” Ram questioned, finding it all a bit too frivolous. 

But just then, the chowman, who had been locked up overnight and was striding to the inn, inexplicably stumbled and fell over nothing.

The people around were initially startled but then burst into laughter.

Standing atop the tower, they saw him attempting to chase after those mocking him, only to stumble and fall even more disastrously after a few steps, his face smeared with blood, leaving Ram quite astonished.

The fall seemed to have injured him. He didn’t stand up for a long while. Some bystanders approached to speak with him, and a few patrol soldiers also noticed and approached him.

Looking bewildered, he sat on the ground for a bit before managing to stand up with others’ help. Yet, before he could walk a few steps, he once again fell heavily backward, even dragging down a soldier who had come to help him.

“Send someone to check on his condition, and tell him to stay seated,” Wu Qingsong said, his voice tinged with compassion. “If he’s injured, find an excuse to compensate him. Maybe lose a bet to him or offer his mercenary troop a job or something.”

“I’ll take care of it right away,” Ram responded.

As they conversed, the unfortunate man took another tumble and then chose to lie still on the ground, not daring to move.

“Congratulations, you’ve finally found the right direction,” Harold remarked, unusually without his typical cynicism.

Wu Qingsong glanced down at his hands, then back at the items on the table. “It works, but something doesn’t quite feel right.”

Despite his reluctance, power was still power. In order to master and utilize this newfound ability more adeptly, Wu Qingsong had to persist with his experiments.

He quickly turned his attention to the city of Esola, after aff, if his domain was frequently afflicted by various unexplained phenomena, it could easily lead to damaging gossip. Moreover, he couldn’t bear the thought of causing trouble for innocent people who bore him no ill will.

He remembered all too well that he had a significant score to settle in the city of Esola.

The materials required for casting curses varied greatly, often including spit left on the ground. This could be easily collected by a young dogboy passing by. At other times, it involved stealing cups that targets had just drunk from in restaurants and taverns, or handkerchiefs they had used to wipe sweat.

For Wu Qingsong, this was disgusting enough, and he really couldn’t bring himself to use other methods.

The outcomes were notably impressive.

Two administrators from the trading companies fell ill with mysterious ailments, inexplicably experiencing weakness in their limbs and being confined to bed rest for nearly a week before recovery. Another trading company administrator began to suffer from sudden forgetfulness, becoming so scatterbrained that he caused his company to incur substantial losses. Had he not sought medical attention in time to cure his condition, he might very well have lost his position.

The city lord, reportedly, caught a chill while outdoors and had to stay indoors for a week before he could face people again. Only Wu Qingsong knew the real reason was a fear curse that made him too scared to leave his bed. He even refused to eat any food containing bones or hard objects, too afraid to choke to death, and thus spent an entire week drinking porridge.

Even more shocking was the behavior of the sheriff, who, despite his usual amiability, at least outwardly, inexplicably got into a quarrel in a tavern and even drew his sword. If not for the intervention of several bystanders, the altercation might have escalated significantly. In fact, the way he furiously attacked the other person was so startling that Wu Qingsong had to step in and pretend to break up the fight, quietly lifting the curse he had placed on him.

Wu Qingsong had come to fully recognize the power of magic. Though he had only employed the simplest of curses, he realized he could easily throw the upper echelons of Esola City into disarray, stir up numerous troubles, or even conveniently replace individuals he disliked.

Throughout this process, he failed only a couple of times.

The curse encountered in the Temple of Death had no effect on him, so naturally, any backlash did not affect him either.

Xeila was astoundingly surprised by his rapid progress, to which he simply said, “We can start another type of experiment now.” 

The Book of the Dead recorded high-level undead magic, with the lowest level being the temple guardians referred to as mummies by Wu Qingsong. Summoning entities like death idols, blood giants, temple knights, or skeletal dragons, was out of his beyond his current skill level and the necessary materials, which he couldn’t possibly gather.

Therefore, they had no choice but to start their necromancy experiments with the two fragmented scrolls in Wu Qingsong’s possession.

This time, Wu Qingsong chose the Elmons mine shaft as the experimental site.

There might still be antpeople remnants not yet eradicated, but with Ling’s help, these creatures could no longer pose any threat.

Wu Qingsong picked several bodies that were relatively intact from those still hanging and transported them to the mine shaft one night.

Frankly, though Wu Qingsong believed in the principle that there were no evil powers, only evil wielders of power, engaging in such activities made him feel as if he was increasingly showing the potential to become a villain.

Ling was somewhat uneasy, but Xeila and Ram were filled with anticipation.

“Let’s start,” Wu Qingsong said, walking to the center of the underground mine shaft. 

He meticulously spread a magic circle on the ground with bone ash and placed a relatively intact body within it. The crows had already completed most of the cleaning, leaving the corpse held together only by a thin layer of completely dried connective tissue.

A seasoned necromancer might not need such a setup, but for a novice, this circle would help locate, attract, and capture stray soul fragments to bind them to the skeletal remains.

Would it be successful?

Wu Qingsong didn’t ponder over this question. Instead, he began to silently recite the incantation, closed his eyes, and used his consciousness to seek the sensation described in the torn pages.

After a short while, several orbs of will-o’-the-wisp eerily made their way through the walls, gradually drifting in front of him.