Chapter 287: Catastrophe Descends (Part 2)

The abundance of undead cannon fodder allowed Wu Qingsong and Nina to conserve a great deal of energy during their exploration. In fact, riding atop the massive scorpion-like creature they currently controlled, they hardly needed to walk at all.

Carefully managing his army of over a thousand undead, Wu Qingsong meticulously scouted the underground terrain. They moved systematically, searching for lava flows and the subterranean ecosystems they supported, progressing from one area to another.

Throughout their journey, they encountered at least four distinct types of insectoids, varying greatly in form and size. The only commonality among them was their shared societal structure: one or a few reproductive queens served as the central figures of their colonies, while countless specialized worker and soldier insectoids carried out tasks with remarkable efficiency, utilizing the scarce resources of the underground environment.

Wu Qingsong didn’t intend to keep destroying these colonies. However, the subterranean world proved far more brutal and unforgiving than he had anticipated. Whenever they encountered the insectoids, the creatures’ sole response was to launch relentless attacks, summoning reinforcements until their numbers were entirely depleted. By the time the last of the insectoids had fallen, Wu Qingsong had no choice but to finish what they had started.

He categorized the various insectoids they encountered as beetle-men, scorpion-men, spider-men, and ant-men. While their appearances didn’t entirely align with the animals they were named after, these creatures bore enough resemblance for Wu Qingsong to make the associations. None of them could communicate, not even at a basic level. Other than the spider queens, the insectoid queens couldn’t withstand Wu Qingsong’s mental probing and invariably died as their brains burst under the pressure.

Even the spider queen, which resisted longer, only lasted about ten minutes before succumbing. While Wu Qingsong attempted to convey his intentions, the queen’s mind flooded him with a torrent of fragmented memories. He suspected that fragments of his own memories had also been transmitted to it. Overwhelmed by the deluge of information, the spider queen shared the same fate as the others.

“It migrated here from somewhere else,” Wu Qingsong said, piecing together the disjointed memories into a semblance of a coherent narrative. Fortunately, the insectoids led such simple lives that isolating unusual events wasn’t difficult. “They defeated the colony that originally lived here, killed them all, and took over the cavern.”

“Can you see where they came from?” Nina asked.

“I’m trying,” Wu Qingsong replied, focusing on the memories. After a moment, he pointed toward a passageway. “It should be that direction. This was the most significant event in its life, so it’s deeply imprinted in its memory.”

“What lies in that direction?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But it’s probably our best lead for now.”

Their undead army had undergone nearly complete turnover after repeated battles. They now rode atop a massive scorpion-like creature, whose broad back was far more comfortable and stable than the beetle they’d used before. The core of their forces consisted of the ant-men warriors, whose thick exoskeletons provided excellent defense and whose massive mandibles delivered devastating bites. Spiders, with their speed and wall-climbing ability, served as scouts.

While the scorpions were powerful, they lost their venomous sting upon becoming undead, significantly diminishing their lethality.

Wu Qingsong wished he could animate every corpse they encountered and simply overwhelm their enemies, but the insectoid souls were too weak to sustain a large army. He had to carefully select the most efficient ones, forming a balance between quality and quantity. Larger corpses were often left behind, as they required too many resources to animate.

The ant-men warriors were his best choice. Their crushing mandibles could destroy almost anything, and they demanded far fewer soul fragments to maintain compared to larger creatures.

Food was no longer an issue. The tender branches and leafy structures of the bug moss, while not particularly tasty, provided necessary nutrients. Insectoid meat supplied energy and protein. Nina had prepared enough dried meat to last them several months, though the flavor left much to be desired.

Their greatest challenge during this long journey wasn’t food or danger, but monotony and solitude. While Nina’s physical presence was undeniably tempting, Wu Qingsong wasn’t a lust-driven man who could lose himself in physical desires all day long.

Because Wu Qingsong’s past was shrouded in ambiguity, he told Nina countless stories—many of them adapted from his previous life. Meanwhile, Nina shared her entire history with him. Through her, Wu Qingsong also learned much about Lam, as the two women’s lives had been intertwined since childhood.

Finally, Wu Qingsong began to understand why Nina had become the person she was today. After her father’s death in battle, many people had sacrificed themselves to protect the young Nina and her brother, Daryl. Even her mother had succumbed to illness during their endless flight. From that moment on, people constantly reminded Nina of her duties, her obligations, and the sacrifices made for her sake.

She had made grave mistakes, leading to the needless deaths of those she cared about. These sacrifices had weighed heavily on her, driving her to push herself relentlessly forward.

It was also why she had shielded Daryl so carefully, determined to spare him from living a life as burdened as her own.

“I tried my hardest, but the neighboring lords kept encroaching on our lands. Silvermoon’s strength grew weaker by the day,” Nina admitted, her voice heavy with emotion. Here, far from her people, she finally allowed herself to show vulnerability. “The prey dwindled. More children died young. Life grew harder and harder. Before meeting you, I had no idea what to do. I couldn’t see a way forward. I just lived as people expected, showing up where they wanted, rallying them to fight on.”

“But the longer we fought the empire, the more I learned about it, the more despair I felt. The elves are too powerful. The empire is too vast. We have no hope. The best I could do was keep the Silvermoon banner flying, hoping it wouldn’t fall before I did.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I never imagined that with your help, we’d see a glimmer of hope—only for it to lead to unprecedented destruction. Silvermoon is gone, Wu. Don’t lie to me. You know it’s true, don’t you?”

“No,” Wu Qingsong said firmly, holding her and kissing her gently. “Not with me here. It’s not over.”

“Silvermoon is dead,” Nina insisted. “The true warriors gave their lives in past battles to protect the rest. The women and children were slaughtered by the Sarnathans. All that’s left are cowards who refuse to face reality. They cling to empty traditions and slogans, unwilling to act or change. They’re terrified of losing what little they have left. Beyond those hollow words, we have nothing.”

“As long as we know the problem, we can fix it,” Wu Qingsong said, stroking her hair and kissing her softly. “Trust me, Nina. When we return, we’ll find a way. I promised to rebuild Silvermoon, and I’ll make it happen.”

Suddenly, one of the spider-men scouts disappeared from Wu Qingsong’s control, jolting him upright on the scorpion’s back.

“Did something happen?” Nina asked, gripping a sword fashioned from the scorpion’s stinger.

“One of the scouts lost contact—probably encountered an enemy,” Wu Qingsong replied, mobilizing the undead forces to probe the area.

The report came quickly. Battle had broken out; they had stumbled upon another settlement.

Wu Qingsong issued a single, decisive command:

“Attack. Kill all who resist.”

For the insectoids, this was the only language the undead army spoke—and the only one they could understand.