"Who's there!" There were footsteps all around, chaotic and disorganized.
They sounded like they were trying to hide their movements, but the sounds were anything but hidden.
It was like tip-toeing while doing a giant hop.
Old Mand's expression tightened. He glared at WhiteStockingsLover. "Ronin's people?"
It wasn't unreasonable for him to jump to that conclusion.
He couldn't think of any other way they could have been exposed.
He should have realized it sooner: the ugly guy wasn't a fool. He wasn't afraid of torture, seemingly unable to endure even the slightest pain, always screaming and yelling, but he had never uttered a single piece of useful information.
So, everything before had been a facade.
He wasn't a weak and easily manipulated pushover, but a skilled actor who may have even intentionally been captured, leaving behind various coded messages, all to launch a night raid on their hideout.
It had to be said, while Old Mand's reasoning and assumptions were wrong, his conclusion was correct.
But there were still many things he didn't understand.
For example, would Ronin really dare to pull out all of his forces? Did he have that much courage?
Their own plans hadn't even begun to be implemented, they hadn't even decided on a target yet.
And another thing!
If they really wanted to stage an assassination, shouldn't they have ambushed them, approaching silently, killing as many as possible?
Even Old Mand, the enemy, couldn't understand what these guys were doing. Or maybe they were actually trying to be stealthy, they just really sucked at it.
Old Mand's gaze settled on WhiteStockingsLover.
This kind of "stealth" technique, seemingly intended to conceal one's identity but really only fooling themselves, Old Mand had witnessed firsthand just recently, on WhiteStockingsLover himself.
...
They're here!
WhiteStockingsLover was ecstatic. He had endured hardship until now, waiting for this very moment!
"Come on out, my little darlings!"
Throughout the camp, the red-eyed men stared at the group of weirdos in white briefs who had suddenly charged out.
Watching these oddballs charging forward with weapons, fearlessly, it was like they were being swarmed by a pack of wolves.
"Thwack!" An Undead soldier went flying.
"What the heck! What is that thing?!" The sent-flying Undead wailed. "That strength is insane! One kick and I'm completely stunned!"
The same scenario played out again and again.
In the initial clash, the Undead suffered massive injuries, resulting in a full-scale rout.
However, the Undead had a significant advantage in numbers.
There were only 20-some of the intruders, but the Undead numbered forty or fifty.
And not every Undead was a glass cannon. A good portion were as strong as the red-named monsters usually seen around here!
Especially the trio of Tortoise Shield, Moon Slayer Blade, and Dragon Scale Sword.
They had fought alongside Linde in battle after battle, and now, armed with their own weapons and equipment, they tore into the camp like three raging tigers. Relying on their superb teamwork, they ran over any enemy foolish enough to stand in their way!
However, the trio were still outnumbered, and they weren't truly invincible. They were just barely holding their own.
The Undead's casualty rate continued to climb.
Even when injured and downed, they didn't give up, continuing to crawl forward.
Even when an Undead was killed, no one mourned their passing.
Only wave after wave of Undead soldiers kept coming.
They were crazy, even more crazed than Old Mand's red-eyed men.
"They're insane! These bastards are crazy!" Red-eyed Old Mand felt a chill run down his spine.
These people were a disaster!
He had never seen such mad, reckless people. The weirdo whose fingers he had chopped off wasn't an isolated case.
"I'm your daddy now!"
One of them lunged, without technique, leaving himself wide open.
Old Mand ran his sword through the man's chest.
The man didn't scream in pain or cry out, but instead, gave a smile, and kept walking forward, with the sword impaling his back, going in deeper and deeper...
Old Mand had never felt fear like this before.
The disregard for life, and the madness in the other man's eyes, made his scalp crawl.
The man just grinned, baring his teeth: "Heeeere's Johnny!"
The man raised his sword high. Old Mand instinctively recoiled, but they were too close. He could only watch as a chunk of his nose was sliced off.
Pain, terror, rage.
Old Mand's arm muscles bulged as if being inflated, causing his arm armor to creak. The Undead, like a kebab skewerd, was hoisted up and thrown heavily to the ground.
"Thump!"
Old Mand stared blankly as the Undead turned to ash and disappeared, and at the empty longsword. The anger on his face changed to a dazed expression.
"They're a plague!"
As the number of Undead deaths increased, Old Mand's band of wanderers finally realized the problem. They weren't fighting ordinary people, but a group of monsters who turned to ash upon death.
When a formation has even a slight opening, never underestimate the players. They'll always be able to pinpoint the weakness.
As one of the Undead ran a sword through one of the wanderers' throats, the counterattack officially began.
Like toppling dominoes, the number of deaths on Old Mand's side began to skyrocket.
"Ranged support, over here!"
"Shields, help tank!"
"Damn it, who stole my kill?!"
...
...
If Linde were really a newbie village chief, he wouldn't be panicking or rushing now.
But he wasn't, so he was starting to get anxious.
Even as a former player, he could understand the players' various crazy tactics, but he was just one person! And there were 60 Undead players in his territory who didn't play by the rules!
While he was still thinking about territorial development, hydroponics, and the planting of mutated crops, the Undead working within his territory, and the ones returning to turn in their harvested goods, suddenly dropped what they were doing and shouted about going to the battlefield to kill enemies.
The night before last, he'd been promoted to Grand Knight. Yesterday, he wiped out a wanderer camp, a carrion eater nest, and a boss, the Carrion Eater Queen.
How are they fighting again already today?
According to the game's pacing, it was all going perfectly, but for a lord, he really felt like he was stretched thin.
The players must have pulled some crazy stunt again.
Why is it that everyone else's Undead players are obediently farming, raising livestock, and mining, while the Undead in his territory are always out chasing chickens and dogs?
Thankfully, the players were enthusiastic about leaving messages and posting on the official website. Of course, the main reason was probably that the "game helmet" could only access the official website and related content, preventing players from installing various apps.
Linde quickly found the cause - WhiteStockingsLover's help thread.
WhiteStockingsLover had been captured while exploring. He couldn't leave marks in front of a group of people, but he could take screenshots of the game and record videos.
So, the seemingly hidden stronghold was completely exposed by WhiteStockingsLover's "off-the-field play" shenanigans.
And to top it off, Old Mand and the others thought they were really good at hiding.
Excluding those who weren't online, the remaining fifty-odd people all responded.
Farming, making cement, blacksmithing... all of that was no longer important. Players help players = PHP! (Similar concept to WHW)
And as reflected in Star Dragon Outpost, the style became:
"Holy crap, found an elite monster! All swordsmen! LFM1 Tank! 4/5, hurry!" (Looking For More 1 Tank)
"Get in the raid group, fast! +++++++"