NEC Chapter 7: Sudden Assault

Little Blondie was fully immersed in his fervent monologue, as if standing center stage under the gaze of thousands.

“What a pity!” His voice rose and fell with theatrical regret. “Everyone praises your so-called talent, washed up from some backwater corner to Black Crow Castle, mastering our language and script in mere dozens of days!”

“Tch, climbing from the lowliest servant to apprentice candidate,” he sneered. “Old Dove Tail even said that in half a year, you might summon a zombie and become a formal apprentice like me!”

His lips curled into a mocking smirk. “But you know, ‘geniuses’ like you? My family’s slave pens churn out dozens every year! What good does that do?”

“Obedient ones become my dogs. Disobedient ones feed my dogs!” His voice climbed higher, like a bard reciting an epic.

“No matter how much you train your mental strength, do you think the great lords of the underworld would stoop to notice a rootless peasant like you?”

“Stop dreaming! Your lowly birth means you deserve no rights!”

“You should die here, rot here!” he roared, almost shrieking. “Your flesh will nourish the next dark magic tree, waiting for me to harvest again!”

“As for your longest bone…” He grinned wickedly. “I’ll polish it into a fine bone staff, a trophy for my path to the Spirit Pact!”

He paused, chuckling darkly as if recalling something amusing. “Oh, I forgot to mention, I’ve already collected eleven such ‘masterpieces.’ You’ll be the twelfth.”

“What a… perfect number!”

Little Blondie’s hands waved animatedly, fingers twirling in the air, his eyes gleaming with fervor.

Chen Mo vaguely sensed this guy had some serious psychological issues.

He decided to prod him with a verbal jab.

“Are you jealous of me? Jealous that Ellie favors me while ignoring you?”

“You’re lying!” Little Blondie’s scream tore through the air, like a bird with its neck wrung, soaring briefly before crashing.

His voice cracked.

Chen Mo kept his hands moving, tossing the freshly cut tree core toward the bag at Little

White’s feet, then raised his voice with just the right touch of cornered anger: “Then why?! I’ve said it a hundred times, I have no interest in Ellie! Why are you still targeting me?!”

The young apprentice’s face flushed slightly, his hands trembling. The dark tree core missed its mark, clattering to the ground. Chen Mo bent to pick it up.

This “breakdown” caught Little Blondie off guard, sparking a burst of gleeful cackling.

Killing a peasant was as easy as crushing an ant, utterly unremarkable. Those numb lambs awaiting slaughter never even struggled, leaving his carefully prepared “villain speech” with no audience, pent-up and unsatisfying.

Why do villains always prattle at the critical moment? Probably because a brilliant scheme, unappreciated, is just too lonely! If not flaunted before the soon-to-be-dead, where else could he show off?

“Fine, fine,” Little Blondie drawled with patronizing smugness, “since you’re so sincerely asking, I’ll graciously enlighten you…”

As he reveled in his moment, poised to deliver his verdict, Chen Mo suddenly whipped his head toward the south!

His pupils dilated, lips parted, face etched with shock, as if he’d seen something extraordinary!

“What?” Many-Bones and Little Blondie instinctively followed his gaze, turning sharply. The forest rustled, the grass swayed, but nothing was there.

In that fleeting moment of distraction—

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Crisp, rapid gunshots, alien to this world, erupted across the open clearing!

Chen Mo had been waiting for this exact moment! Minutes earlier, Little White, crouching low, had silently drawn the cold metal object from beneath its hollow ribs: the QBZ-95-1 automatic rifle.

Little White loved it.

After all, it was a skeleton spearman. Who says an automatic rifle doesn’t count as a spear?

For a humble skeleton from Ghostfire Alley, its chest cavity had never held such a “valuable” treasure. Two bags of magic dust had once been its peak worth.

Though its limited intellect couldn’t fully grasp the rifle’s value, it felt the power and beauty in the steel, akin to a Jedi Black Knight’s armor or a dread knight’s blade. The moment it gripped it, its empty skull couldn’t help but wobble faintly.

For this lethal strike, Chen Mo and Little White had rehearsed countless times, devising a shooting stance only a hollow skeleton could pull off, a bizarre masterpiece.

Facing away from the enemy, crouched low, Little White deftly flicked off the safety, flipped the rifle, and aimed the muzzle backward, steadying the barrel between its tenth and eleventh ribs.

Its skull lowered to chest level, hollow eye sockets upside-down, locked onto the rear sight!

Ribs as a gun rest, reverse shooting!

As Chen Mo pretended to pick up the dropped tree core, his fingers “accidentally” tugged a corner of the filthy “shroud” wrapping Little White, exposing the sight’s view.

Then came the exaggerated head turn, an ancient but ever-effective misdirection.

Clumsy, but it worked.

Little Blondie and Many-Bones fell for it. They never imagined a mere apprentice, unable to cast proper spells, could pose a threat at this range.

Even a formal mage needed a lengthy wind-up to cast, and at close quarters, a nimble warrior could gut them before they finished chanting.

So, neither sensed the killing intent.

In the split second their eyes turned, Little White steadily pulled the trigger.

Many-Bones was the first hit.

Chen Mo’s primary target was the ranked warrior, the team’s strongest fighter.

Many-Bones stood dutifully behind Little Blondie, perhaps weary from a sleepless night of vigilance. Distracted by Chen Mo’s trick, he didn’t notice Little White’s attack in time.

Not that it mattered. At this range, no flesh could outrun a bullet nearing a kilometer per second.

With the fire selector pre-set, Little White unleashed a long burst.

At least half of the ten rounds struck Many-Bones. Unluckily for him, the second bullet tore through his neck, ripping flesh and severing his carotid artery.

The fourth hit his skull.

Little White wasn’t great at controlling recoil, the muzzle drifting upward, but the skeleton’s stability kept the sway minimal.

Blood sprayed in a misty arc. Many-Bones, hands clutching his throat, cast an incredulous look at Chen Mo before collapsing like a felled log.

Able to fight dozens of skeletons? In the face of a firearm’s brutal elegance, man and ghost were equal.

The sudden gunfire startled Little Blondie, who didn’t immediately grasp what was happening.

The young Zircon heir made a fatal mistake: he tried to pull his warrior servant to his feet.

Another long burst followed!

Little Blondie’s frail frame was struck as if by an invisible hammer, toppling backward. Blood traced a long arc through the air, perfectly marking the fall of a life.

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