Warlord of Chaos

All of the soldiers were exhausted due to the unbearable hot weather. Therefore, Reg commanded to encamp earlier than usual. Though everyone was tired, nothing seemed to have gone wrong. The grotesque Titan Kojac was now only a topic of conversation among the soldiers.

Setting up camp was one of the basic skills of a soldier. Soon, a military camp with a relatively large scale was established. The prisoners, such as the Minotaurs and the Evil Eyes, were encamped in the middle, and surrounded by the tents of the soldiers. All the soldiers were doing their duties. Some were standing on guard, some were on patrol, and others were scouting outside.

Han Jin was now lying on his bed and resting after taking a walk with Sunier and spending some time on cultivation. Late at night, the Reg’s voice suddenly came from outside the tent, “Raphael? Are you there?”

Han Jin immediately opened his eyes. “What happened?”

“We have a problem. May I come in?”

Han Jin sat up, quickly put on his robe, and went to lift the flap of his tent. Reg came in with a solemn expression. Han Jin immediately knew that the problem must be dire. “What’s the matter?”

“The plague broke out – the Black Death!” Reg hesitated and lowered his voice. “Can you… help them, Raphael?”

“Black Death? Is that an infectious disease??”

“Yes. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many soldiers sick at the same time.”

“Let me have a look.” Han Jin turned around and walked outside.

“Raphael, I should not have bothered you with this, but we only have three deacons. Unfortunately, none of them have any idea about the plague…”

“Come on, cut the crap.” Han Jin urged him with a smile.

Reg sighed. The Black Death was one of the most deadly plagues in this world. Though high grade professionals had a strong resistance against diseases, none would be willing to risk their own lives under normal circumstances. Reg had no choice but to turn to Han Jin. The deacons had seen Guevara’s wounds a few days ago, and all of them had admitted that Han Jin’s mastery in healing was very effective, and far superior to theirs. Now that the deacons were at their wits’ end again, they naturally thought of Han Jin.

Those infected soldiers were all arranged in a corner. Several tents stood in the middle of nowhere, seperated from everything else by several hundred meters of empty ground. More than a hundred soldiers stood guard to prevent anyone from approaching the infected, and to prevent the infected from escaping. If any patient tried to escape, the soldiers had an order to kill on sight. Endangering the public health was an unforgivable crime in any circumstance, let alone in the army.

“Young Marshal, you can’t go inside!” Several soldiers blocked the way when they saw Reg and Han Jin walking toward them.

Reg heavily pushed away the soldier in front of him and staggered him. He was too anxious and had forgotten his manners. As he rampaged through the outpost, the other soldiers were all stunned. When they came to, Reg had already approached the tents. The soldiers were worried, and some hastily left to report to the other generals.

As heartrending cries came from within the tents, Reg stopped. “Is it really the Black Death? Can you cure them?” he asked in a low voice.

“I need to have a look first.” This said, Han Jin released two charms, one for himself, and the other for Reg. After all, he hadn’t read Gui Zhi, the Daoist classic detailing healing, for nothing. At the very least, he was sure he could prevent him and Reg from getting infected.

In the first tent, there were four patients lying on the ground with a deacon standing by their sides. Though Han Jin and Reg were prepared for the worst, they were still startled when they saw the patients. They looked horrifying! Their faces and bodies were covered with black spots, from which thick pus was flowing out. They saw one patient stroke their face but accidentally stab his finger into one of the fragile black spots. The heartrending cry that immediately followed made Han Jin and Reg’s scalps tingle.

“Are there… any cures?” Reg asked in a low voice.

“We’d better get out first.” Han Jin sighed. It was useless for them to stay there any longer. No one could cure them. To be honest, the bodies of the patients were decaying. If Han Jin had completed his final stage of basis construction, he might have a chance to help them. But now, he had nothing useful to offer.

Reg’s heart immediately sunk. He numbly stared at the patients and didn’t come to until Han Jin dragged him back. Reg followed Han Jin out of the tent, and so did the deacon.

“Have you ever seen the Black Death before?” Han Jin asked.

“No, My Lord.” The deacon forced a smile. “If I had seen it before, I might have had a solution by now.”

“I… feel like something’s wrong.” Han Jin frowned.

“Do you think they are infected by the Titan Kojac?” Reg suddenly said. If this was true, then all of them were done for. Almost all of them had smelt the scent of the Titan Kokac. If that theory was true, Reg’s army would be the first one in history to be wiped out by disease.

“No, that’s impossible.” Han Jin shook his head. “I smelt the scent too, but I am all right.”

“Because you have a strong resistance.”

“Then what about Keeley?”

Reg blanked. Keeley had felt nothing wrong last night, while the patients had already fallen sick the night before. Reg had not taken it seriously at that time, and hadn’t expected that the illness would become so severe. If they really were affected by the Titan Kojac, Keeley wouldn’t be spared.

“Young Marshal. You… why are you in there?” A general anxiously shouted from outside the outpost.

“Immediately leave, Young Marshal!”

The soldiers had lost their presence of mind and had called over nearly every general. Reg was the heir of their former Regimental Commander Knight Conrad, and the spiritual pillar of them all. Thus, the generals nearly went mad from anxiety when they heard that Reg had entered the quarantine area.

“We cannot let the Young Marshal out!” a timid voice came.

“Who said that?!” The generals went into a great rage.

“This is… the order from the Young Marshal himself.” The soldier who had spoken was on the verge of collapse from the generals’ gazes. But still, he squeezed out the words.

“Young Marshal! Young Marshal!!” A sudden shout came from afar. It was General Paul.

Just at this time, the moonlight penetrated through the layers of cloud, and evenly lit up every corner of the land. The argument suddenly stopped. All eyes were focused on Paul. Under the moonlight, they could clearly see the black spots covering his face. Though the spots were only the size of half a little finger, they were expanding at slow but visible rate.

“Young Marshal! Why was there a sudden Black Death outbreak? You…” Paul realized that everyone was staring at him strangely. “Why are you all staring at me?”

“General Paul…” A general reached out a trembling finger and pointed to Paul.

“What’s wrong?” Paul shouted.

The generals and the soldiers all scattered immediately as if they could see the spattering saliva from Paul’s mouth. The Black Death had a more notorious reputation than Zaganide. If one was willing to be a slave, Zaganide might spare his life. But Black Death never spared anyone. There was no possibility of compromise between a patient and the disease.

“What’s wrong?” Paul turned angry. Suddenly, he covered his forehead with one hand. His body shook, then he fainted onto the ground

“General Paul is infected by the Black Death!!” The deacon cried in a quavering voice.

“It’s not the Black Death!” Han Jin strode forward. He had finally figured it out. Diseases were caused by viruses. How could a virus reproduce so quickly? The black spots on Paul’s face were expanding at a visible rate. Something was off.

“Raphael is right. This is not the Black Death.” Guevara suddenly appeared, looking down at Paul’s face. His bony figure emitted an indescribable pressure, and everything around him seemingly turned still in an instant – the rolling leaves, the blowing wind, the swaying grass, and even the beating heart of the generals.

“This is a curse!” Guevara’s voice was filled with coldness and a murderous intention. The generals came to themselves and staggered a few steps backward. Their hearts thumped in their chests so heavily that they nearly jumped out from their throats.

“Curse?” Reg was stunned.

“Zaganide must have other assistance,” Guevara softly said. “They… really think I am a cripple now. Very well…”

“Sir, can you heal them?” Reg anxiously asked.

“I’m just a knight. To remove the curse, we would need at least a cardinal, but we don’t have enough time.” Guevara shook his head slightly.

“What curse is this?”

“Touch of Corrosion. One of the Abyssal Race’s favorite curses.”

“But… but… if there really are enemies hidden among us, how did they curse so many people?”

“That’s what I’m curious about,” Guevara slowly said. “You’d better stay in tents and not wonder about for a while. I’ll go and have a look.”

“Sir, is General Paul… really beyond saving?” Reg did not give up and called out to Guevara.

“If you really want to help him, then end his misery now,” Guevara’s voice came from a distance.

Paul woke up and struggled to sit up, not knowing what had happened to him. He wanted to say something, but the moment he opened his mouth, the muscles around it tore off the black spots. A shrill cry of pain left his mouth.