Chapter 94: Deep Within the Misty Realm

"How can that be?!" Vir couldn't help but furrow his brow and said to Scarnoli, "Even if there are thousands upon thousands of undead creatures, your beastfolk aren't outnumbered by them, are they? Besides, those undead aren't particularly powerful—the most they amount to is the level of low-grade magical beasts. Hey, old man, you're not playing tricks on me again, are you?"

Vir winked knowingly at Scarnoli, as if to say he saw through the old man's ways, but Scarnoli nearly burst a vessel in anger—this time, he was telling the truth!

"Listen, boy, you need to understand one thing: the undead in the Mist Zone are not limited to just those Rotten Fiends. There are all sorts of undead creatures in there, not only in vast numbers but also of many different kinds, some of them exceedingly powerful. If you compare those disgusting Rotten Fiends to low-grade magical beasts, then the more formidable undead there are the equivalent of high-grade magical beasts. And we're not talking about just one or two, but hundreds, even thousands! Imagine it—thousands of undead with the power of high-grade magical beasts, plus over a hundred thousand others with the strength of low-grade magical beasts. Without thorough preparation, who could possibly withstand such a force?!"

"Uh?"

Vir was taken aback. Seeing his reaction, the old Scarnoli added with a mysterious air, "Boy, do you know how many different races inhabit this Wildwood Forest?"

"Beastfolk, goblins, dwarves, giants, elves... that's about it, isn't it?"

Though Vir had never encountered so many different races, he had learned a thing or two from books and legends.

"That's a fair number, but... you left out a few," Scarnoli paused, keeping Vir in suspense, before speaking in a low voice, "There were originally more than ten races in the Wildwood Forest. Besides those you mentioned, there were others: the Triple-Blossom Green-Eyed Serpents of the northern forest, the Druids and Palefolk of the south, the Winged Ones to the west, and to the east, the Treant folk, the Demon-kin, the Rotworm clan, and so on. Of course, nowadays, even if you turned over every stone in the forest, you might not find a single survivor from those races…”

"Are you saying...?" Vir’s heart skipped a beat as he hurriedly pressed the question.

"Precisely!" Scarnoli let out a strange laugh. "Those races were all wiped out four hundred years ago in the war against those vile undead.

"The beastfolk, thanks to their numbers, barely managed to withstand the assault, using their mobility to escape devastation. The goblins and dwarves, fond of digging, were the luckiest, hiding underground to avoid disaster. The elves, though akin to the Winged Ones in many ways, proved even wiser; that time, they were willing to abandon their cherished homeland and unite with the mighty giants to fend off the undead, barely surviving the calamity... As for the other races, well, they were either too weak or too foolish, and now only a handful remain."

Vir’s face darkened. He had expected something of the sort, but hearing it confirmed still sent a chill down his spine.

Were those undead from the Demon Realm truly so formidable?

Vir frowned, but another thought quickly arose. If the great war four hundred years ago had already decimated most of the races in the Wildwood Forest, then how had the survivors managed to persist in the years that followed?

"Perhaps the Demon Realm exhausted its own strength in that battle..." Scarnoli sighed softly, evidently having used that mind-reading power of his again.

"Our losses were severe, but the undead didn’t fare much better. According to the records I found, after the war, fewer than fifty thousand undead remained of the original hundred thousand. Then, after desperate assaults from the surviving races, their numbers were halved again, forcing them to retreat into the Mist Zone. Since then, the Wildwood Forest has never seen another undead horde of that scale. Now, every ten years, a fixed number of undead pour out of the Mist Zone, but their numbers never exceed thirty or forty thousand. More importantly, the Mist Zone happens to lie at the only pass leading out of the forest, making it impossible for the races within to leave these lands. That’s why the territories of the wild races have never expanded into the human world."

"It's not that they haven't expanded," Vir retorted with a cold laugh, "but that they couldn't, isn't that right?"

As a human, he disliked hearing any beastfolk boast about expanding their lands into the human world.

Still, as he spoke, Vir’s mind raced. Something felt off—why was Scarnoli sharing all of this with an outsider like himself? He had only asked about the divine artifact, and yet the old man was giving him a history lesson about magical beast wars spanning centuries. What was his aim?

Could it be...?

A sudden flash of insight shot through Vir’s mind. He glanced down at the old fox, Scarnoli, lips curling into a cold smile. "Tell me, old man, when was the last time the undead appeared?"

"Nine years ago."

Scarnoli seemed not to notice Vir’s tone at all. "To be precise, nine years and two months."

"How coincidental—the autumn season is nearly upon us, isn't it?" Vir said with a mocking lilt.

Scarnoli’s face showed a hint of annoyance. "Enough. Since you’ve already guessed, there’s no need to rub it in, is there?"

"I’m just waiting for you to admit it," Vir replied coolly, then grinned slyly. "Come on, old man, what dirty scheme are you plotting now?"

"Heh heh, it’s nothing much, really," Scarnoli said airily, though his eyes darted all over Vir, never still for a moment. "I just happened to venture deep into the Mist Zone recently and discovered something rather interesting..."