Chapter 25: Encounter with the Lich

After returning from the Mountbatten family estate, Hill Zhao Li sat on her bed and meditated for two and a half hours.

By the time night fell, she had recovered her energy.

Thanks to all the milk she had drunk, she wasn’t very hungry yet, so her original hunting plan naturally got pushed to tomorrow night.

She sat down at her desk and continued poring over that manuscript, occasionally pulling out her unfinished Luminous Spell Pro Max version, determined to achieve results within a month.

That way, when Teacher Inks conducted the assessment, maybe he would finally look at her in a new light.

Come to think of it, if the Luminous Spell could be modified, surely the other spells could be as well.

There was the Windstride Spell that could make her body as light as the wind, the Freeze Spell that could instantly turn water to ice, the Firestarting Spell that released flames, and the Quagmire Spell that could turn solid ground to swamp…

All of these were Tier One magic, harder than the Luminous Spell, yet still considered basic spells and with plenty of room for improvement.

But for now, it was best not to bite off more than she could chew.

Studying the manuscript, improving her spells, praying to the moon…

At last, after a full twenty-one days, Hill had transformed the Luminous Spell into the version she wanted.

Luminous Spell Pro Max—at best, this was just a project name. Once she’d succeeded in her research, Hill gave it a new name: “Flashbang Spell.” Simple, clear, and carrying a trace of her memories from her previous life.

Now, after her initial modifications, the Flashbang Spell finally lived up to its name.

Low cost, can be cast and thrown, the duration of the blinding light was short, but after all, it only took an instant to blind a person.

Of course, Hill’s mastery was not yet deep. With further improvements, the heat from the intense light could even scorch a person’s eyeballs, but the magical energy consumed would be astronomical. Besides, this trick only worked the first time—there were far too many ways to counter it after that.

As for mindless aberrations, they were easy to hit, but even if they were, it wouldn’t do much damage.

That was mainly because, for many aberrations, eyes and vision weren’t that important. Ghouls had keen smell and hearing, as did the Bloodkin, and as for liches… they were alchemical creations, with their own unique sensory systems—maybe even related to the soul. Hill had no way of knowing.

Still, for all its limitations, Hill was quite pleased with her improved spell.

“What spell should I modify next? Grenade Spell?”

Humming softly, Hill walked out of her house. The night outside was boundless—it was already the middle of the night.

Tonight was hunting night as usual, but something was different from before. In the past few nights, all her hunts had come up empty. She’d waited on the rooftop of her apartment until dawn’s first light, but she never saw even one of those drunken bums or scavengers she used to find so repulsive.

If she didn’t catch anything tonight, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could suppress that maddening hunger.

After she’d finished meditating, she couldn’t stand her hunger any longer. She was wearing that black trench coat of hers, all wrinkled and stiff as dried mud. That was because she didn’t dare dry it outside after washing, only in the room by the fire.

After leaving the apartment, Hill deftly avoided the patrol officers’ routes, lying flat on a rooftop, watching the lights flicker back and forth below, all the while focusing her senses on her nose, trying to pick out scents carried on the air.

She was especially alert for the smell of tobacco and alcohol—those who wandered about late at night reeking of both were the easiest, lowest-risk prey.

If she never caught a whiff of such a scent from a certain spot, she would quietly switch to a new location. But her luck tonight was terrible. After three whole hours, it was already 2 a.m.—and Hill still hadn’t found a single target!

Where had all the scavengers gone?

Where had all the drunks gone?

Lying dejected on a rooftop, Hill gazed at the empty street below. Only the chilly night wind kept her company; everything else gave her a wide berth, avoiding her as if she were the plague.

There was no helping it—such was the existence of aberrations in human society.

Hill looked up—the night sky tonight wasn’t promising either, thick with clouds and growing damp. She couldn’t even see the silvery moon that always soothed her heart!

“Am I really going to go home empty-handed again tonight?” Hill was unwilling to accept it.

She’d already walked through most of the town, but still found nothing. The only place left untouched was the very center of the town, where the nobles and rich merchants lived. She didn’t even need to think about it—the security there was the tightest, guards every five steps, sentries every ten.

Not to mention, the Church of the Holy Light’s chapel was there, filled with malicious detection spells—she could never hunt anywhere near that place.

Hill could only hold onto a sliver of hope and keep searching. With her improved abilities, her physique was steadily growing stronger; she moved through the night faster than before.

She soon reached the slums at the edge of town, even worse than the area around her apartment. There were shanties everywhere, barely worthy of the name “house,” sheltering scavengers, the terminally ill, and refugees from other lands.

Hill had always avoided this place because the people here had such filthy blood. Besides the familiar smell of tobacco and alcohol, there were countless other diseases—Bloodkin drinking such blood would end up malnourished, even poisoned!

Still, among all these unsavory types, there was one kind of prey in the slums barely fit for consumption—old people.

In this world, aging was a pitiful thing. Without property or a skill to rely on, the elderly were soon abandoned by their children. It was cruel, but for most poor families, it was the only option.

Hill did feel sorry for them, but her top priority was to fill her stomach, even if old blood was thin and flavorless. But she was sure tonight was just a streak of bad luck, so she just wanted to curb her hunger a bit—she hadn’t planned on eating her fill.

She only wanted to feed, not kill—draining too much from these people could be fatal!

The air in the slums reeked the moment she entered. Hill wanted to pinch her nose, cursing her keen sense of smell, but it was vital for hunting.

Filth, trash, and all sorts of stench rushed at her nose, so much so that she wondered if these smells were actually trying to kill her.

After searching for a while, Hill found a sleeping old man in a shabby shack. There was no light inside, but she could see everything. The man was nothing but skin and bones, with wispy hair and deep wrinkles, shivering in the cold with only a tattered pair of pants to wear in this chilly, autumn town.

The cramped hut echoed with the old man’s breathing, ragged like a bellows—one riddled with holes. Even though the air was still thick with all sorts of smells, when Hill got close, she could only sense one thing—decay.

The dilapidated shelter was rotting, its contents were rotting, and the old man curled up in the middle…

Hill stood there for a long time, her fingernails extending and retracting, frozen halfway, never quite sinking into the old man’s flesh.

After a while, she gritted her teeth and turned to leave.

But just as she stepped out, a raspy voice came from behind: “…N…Nos, have you come… to see me?”

It sounded like a dream muttered in sleep, or perhaps a final wail before death.

Hill didn’t stop. She had nothing she could do for him. Outside, she planned to go back and wait at her previous haunts—maybe some unlucky fool would blunder out…

“Awooo!!!”

What the hell was that?

Hill’s heart skipped a beat, and she looked toward the sound. In the darkness, a twisted, blurry figure sprang out, a stench of livestock hitting her nose.

The thing opened a bloody maw, its fangs jagged and crooked, with a tongue covered in vicious barbs. The head had hints of human features, but also a ram’s horns, a dog’s ears, a horse’s nose, and a patchwork of animal and human hair…

One look was enough to make Hill’s skin crawl.

Lich. That was a lich!

A legendary monster born of alchemy, created from human remains and stitched with fresh flesh, capable of controlling flesh-forging arrays to absorb any living being into itself and grow stronger. Strictly speaking, it was a kind of undead!

But a lich was far more terrifying than a mere skeleton!

Hill’s heart was about to leap out of her throat. Why would such a thing show up in town?

She couldn’t care about anything else—she turned and ran. At the same moment, the lich found its prey. It stretched out a grotesque claw—originally a human arm, now fused with a wolf’s paw!

It ripped open a shack as if it were nothing; the flimsy wooden frame and torn canvas stood no chance. The drifter sleeping inside woke to the sudden noise and the cold wind, opening his eyes to see a pair of ghostly green eyes, like a starving wolf in the wild.

A primal terror surged from his heart, and the drifter screamed, his voice slicing through the night.

“Ah! Ahhhhhh!”

Then came the sounds of ripping flesh, sobs, and an eerie, bone-chilling laughter! It was like invisible hands reaching after Hill, trying to drag her back!

Hill ran blindly, desperate to get away, only to turn a corner and be blinded by a sudden light.

A constable?!

Hill wanted to smack herself. She’d been so flustered and terrified she hadn’t even noticed the sound of boots on the ground.

What to do? What to do?

A thought flashed through her mind: Wasn’t this the perfect time to use the Flashbang Spell?

A constable was just an ordinary person—no way to guard against it. He was sure to be hit!