Plane Fragment — Deep within the Plains
Tens of thousands of troops gathered on the open grassland. In solemn unison, Ye Zhan and the assembled soldiers knelt and prayed devoutly to the gods.
Without warning, a massive portal—over a hundred meters wide—ripped open the air before them. A brilliant yet ominous glow spilled from the swirling rift.
From the depths of the portal, Su Xingyu stepped through, flanked by several high-ranking tribesmen.
"Patriarch!"
Ye Zhan strode forward swiftly, saluting with a fist over his chest in solemn respect.
"Well done," Su Xingyu said with a nod of approval. "You've proven yourself worthy of being the first warrior of the Ye Tribe. You performed admirably."
"Thank you for the praise, Patriarch. I only did what was expected of me," Ye Zhan replied proudly, squaring his shoulders.
Su Xingyu chuckled lightly. "You'll receive your reward soon. Go to the temple when you're ready. For now, take the soldiers and let them rest. They've fought hard for far too long. There's no rush to resume training—let them enjoy a well-deserved break. When they return, I'll host a proper victory banquet."
Even with night guards stationed, sleep in this fragmented plane had been uneasy. The threat of ambush never left them. Their nerves were stretched taut. It was time to let them breathe.
Ye Zhan hesitated. He opened his mouth as if to protest, then glanced back at the exhausted but cheering soldiers. Seeing the joy in their faces, he finally gave a firm nod.
"Yes, Patriarch."
"Soldiers are human too," Su Xingyu said with a faint smile. "Let them train hard when they must, but rest is just as vital. No one can stay wound up forever."
Ye Zhan nodded thoughtfully and issued orders to begin the orderly retreat of the troops.
As the camp began to disperse, Su Xingyu turned back to him. "Now then, how is the task I assigned you progressing?"
"It's done. Please, follow me."
Ye Zhan led him outside the camp boundaries. There, across the once-green grasslands, an eerie sight awaited them. Goblin corpses—piled like grotesque hills—covered the plains, their lifeless bodies stacked one atop another.
"These are the most intact corpses we could recover. Seventeen thousand in total. I hope that meets your expectations," Ye Zhan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "The last time the troops rotated, you requested us to collect complete bodies. I didn't understand why, but we followed your orders exactly."
The warriors of the Night Tribe were fearsome, their brutal combat style often leaving little of the enemy intact. The corpses here were all that could be salvaged.
"It's enough," Su Xingyu replied with a faint nod.
"Should I give you some privacy?"
Though he didn't understand the purpose, Ye Zhan had a hunch that something unusual was about to happen. He had been the only one summoned to witness it.
"You can stay if you want. But I doubt you'll stomach it," Su Xingyu said calmly.
"Patriarch, you underestimate me," Ye Zhan huffed. "I've seen all kinds of horror on the battlefield. Nothing can shake me."
With that, Su Xingyu stepped toward the mountains of corpses.
A foul stench of rot and blood assaulted them, the air thick with the lingering presence of death. Ye Zhan wrinkled his nose, trying not to gag.
Su Xingyu closed his eyes and slowly extended his arms to the sky.
The clouds darkened suddenly, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath. Above them, a swirling vortex appeared, crackling with arcane energy.
"Praise the Supreme King of Eternal Night!" Ye Zhan's eyes went wide with awe, and he dropped to his knees, head bowed in reverence.
From the retreating camp, the soldiers saw the sky change and the vortex swirl above the battlefield. One by one, they fell to their knees, murmuring fervent prayers to their dark god.
Through the divine tether, the shadowy figure of Su Xingyu's true form—towering and cloaked in darkness—moved within the divine realm. Stretching out his hand, he reached across dimensions.
A brilliant, eerie magic circle expanded across the corpse-laden plain, its sigils glowing with deathly energy. The magic pulsed like a heartbeat.
Divine Art: Resurrection of the Undead.
Dark divine power flooded the area. The still corpses shuddered.
A finger twitched. Then another.
Bodies convulsed and stirred, as if waking from an endless nightmare. One by one, the goblins clawed their way out of the piles, bone cracking, joints snapping into motion. Some still had decayed flesh clinging to their bones, while others shed their remains entirely, leaving only clean white skeletons behind.
In their hollow sockets, ghostly flames ignited—soulfires, flickering with unholy life.
The field swarmed with movement. Skeletons rose, dragging themselves upright, assembling into lines with chilling precision. They stood like a macabre reflection of the living army, silent and motionless, awaiting command.
"Chief… this... this is…" Ye Zhan stood slowly, his voice faltering.
"The dead," Su Xingyu said, weariness flashing in his eyes.
"But why so many? They're not much good in battle. Are you going to use them as cannon fodder?" Ye Zhan asked, trying to make sense of the spectacle before him. "Their combat power is minimal. They can't compare to living warriors."
"They're not for battle," Su Xingyu said, brushing the dust from his cloak. "They're for labor. The tribe's short on manpower. Mining is exhausting work—better to leave it to the dead. They don't eat, they don't sleep, they don't complain. Perfect workers."
Ye Zhan looked at the rows of skeletons and almost pitied them.
"Brutal. It's bad enough we slaughtered them. Now we're putting them to work after death?"
He sighed, almost mournfully. "It's kind of tragic, if you think about it."
"I heard there are several veins of ore around here," Su Xingyu continued, ignoring the sentiment. "I'll leave you with thirty thousand skeletons. Organize them into work groups. Have them start mining immediately."
He had no intention of holding onto this plane fragment. The Ye Tribe had more than enough land now, and the logistics of traveling between worlds were inconvenient. But abandoning the mineral wealth here would be wasteful.
Originally, Su Xingyu planned to station thousands of people to mine and return every few months. But now, there was a better option.
There was no labor force more efficient—or more obedient—than the dead.
After receiving detailed instructions and gaining some proficiency, Ye Zhan marched away with thirty thousand clattering skeletons following behind, his expression uncertain.
"Mining shouldn't be too hard," he muttered to himself. "They just need to dig, right?"
A few hundred supervisors would stay behind, manage the skeletons, and keep the operation running smoothly. It was a strange arrangement—but effective.
Su Xingyu, proud of his own ingenuity in using undead labor to free up the tribe's young and strong warriors, now felt like a genius.
"Let's head back."
With the remaining hundreds of thousands of skeletons trailing behind like a wave of silent, bone-white soldiers, Su Xingyu made his way toward the camp. These "labor tools" would soon be distributed across the tribe.
So what if they looked terrifying?
He had faith in his people. Even if they recoiled at first, once they saw the benefits these skeletons brought, acceptance would come naturally.
Besides, he was a god of darkness.
Wouldn't it be strange if he didn't have an undead army?
As believers, it was only right for them to learn how to make the most of their skeletal brethren.