Master of Myriad Souls

Rumble…

Thunderclaps rolled incessantly across the sky, dark clouds coiling like ominous serpents, each jagged lightning strike illuminating the heavens with a blinding, snake-like brilliance. The very firmament seemed poised to collapse under nature’s terrifying might, and all living things cowered in fear. Yet deep within the Sunset Wasteland, a magnificent fortress stood undaunted, teeming with liches, skeletons, and countless undead, all prostrate before a towering palace in unwavering devotion.

At the heart of the hall lay a vast pool of blood, churning with vitality that pulsed with untold life force. At the far end, a weathered and tattered soul-summoning banner dominated a complex, sprawling magical array, ravenously siphoning the arcane energy flowing through the subterranean crystal veins. Waves of unparalleled power rippled through the hall, and the liches and dark knights bowing outside let out involuntary moans, their own magical essence multiplying with each surge. In mere moments, the mana they absorbed surpassed what centuries of ordinary cultivation could achieve several times over.

“What is life? What is death? Millennia of training, countless cycles of reincarnation, all for this instant of enlightenment!”

Within the grand and solemn palace, the Lich King, draped in flowing black robes, spoke as he strode toward the Crown of Wisdom at the hall’s end. Each step was firm and resonant, leaving an indelible imprint upon the stone beneath him. From the depths of his soul radiated the aura of supremacy, causing every undead kneeling outside to shiver in awe. Life force from the blood pool, soul energy from the banner, and the raw power of the subterranean veins surged into him like a ceaseless torrent. His withered flesh began to swell and regain vitality—first his hands and calves, then his chest and thighs, each muscle expanding with unnatural vigor, and finally, his face filled out. In but a dozen steps, the desiccated, mummy-like lich transformed into a tall, imposing young man, his features full and vibrant.

“I, Ovisis, swear that the fury of the Lich King shall sweep across the continent of Dallas and every corner of this plane…”

As he spoke, he approached the Crown of Wisdom, a symbol of supreme authority and intellect, and placed it upon his head. Instantly, the heavens roiled with storm, and lightning above the fortress intensified. A deafening strike split the tallest watchtower in two, sending low-ranking zombies and skeletons into chaotic throngs.

“No earthly storm can halt my stride; no calamity can extinguish the will of a Lich King! With this crown, I, Ovisis, am the sovereign of the wasteland, the Lich King who perceives life and death!”

Ovisis ignored the raging tempest above, placing the ancient crown upon his brow. He devoured the magic from the crystal veins below with a frenzy akin to swallowing the sea. With a surge, the torrential mana and soul force within him crystallized into magical and soul crystals, shattering the bottleneck of his millennia-long cultivation. His consciousness trembled as he sensed an infinite sea of souls. Yet, just as he teetered on the cusp of ascending to godly domain, a serpentine lightning strike arced across the void, striking him with a thunderous impact, shredding his sinews and drawing blood from every pore.

Simultaneously, an invisible shockwave erupted outward like a volcanic explosion. Undead spellcasters and dark knights alike convulsed violently, falling like harvested grain, life extinguished. Even the supposedly indomitable fortress began to fracture, webs of fissures spreading, some towers collapsing with resounding crashes.

Thunderstorm…

Ovisis’s eyes narrowed; blood spilled from his mouth as a black pen appeared in his hand. The iron rod carved arcane runes into the air, channeling surging magical energy, yet it was too late.

The hall, protected by a mighty array, collapsed with a roar. The ancient banner split with hairline cracks, and a more terrible serpentine lightning strike pierced his body, shattering his newly formed magical and soul crystals. Flesh and bones dissolved into shadows in an instant.

“No…”

The Lich King roared in despair, unwilling to vanish at the brink of godhood. He struggled, but each successive bolt extinguished his remaining life, his consciousness fading. On the brink of death, he felt a heavy body crash onto him. Reflexively, he traced one final rune with the black pen, infusing the last remnants of magic and soul crystals into the fallen form, imprinting a trace of his indomitable will and soul.

The Lich King, whose steps once shook a thousand miles, dissolved into a mere shadow, vanishing into the icy wind.

The once-feared undead legion was decimated, the majestic fortress reduced to ruins. The blood pool lay empty, the subterranean crystal veins drained, leaving only the weathered banner swaying in the cold breeze, a silent testament to past glory. Within the hall, silence reigned until a bloodied young man struggled to his feet.

“Where… am I?”

Hu Feng’s head spun as he surveyed the rune-etched palace, memories foreign and vast crowding his mind. He recalled a sudden storm while crossing the western Gelmu Plains, a lightning strike, and unconsciousness. Yet upon waking, there was no charming nurse, only a grim and shattered palace, and an overwhelming flood of alien memories.

“Ovisis… the Crown of Wisdom… the Lich Fortress…” Hu Feng whispered, piecing together fragments of memory. A shiver ran through him. “What… what is this? I’ve inherited Ovisis’s soul imprint and will… and become a Lich King?”

Pinching his thigh to confirm reality, Hu Feng steadied himself. Though he had played countless games like Heroes of Might and Magic, never had he imagined becoming a BOSS-level Lich King. Fortunately, unlike the game’s liches, his body was intact. Relief washed over him; a mummy-like undead form would have rendered him powerless in every way.

Anxious, unsettled, and bewildered, he slowly calmed himself, organizing the alien memories in his mind.

This wasteland was vast—limitless even—its scale defying comprehension, far beyond what a mortal lifetime could traverse. The Dallas continent itself was unknowable, even to a nine-thousand-year-old Lich King like Ovisis. Rich in resources yet crawling with beasts, it was a land of survival of the fittest, scattered with innumerable creature lairs and fortresses.

“In the past, I struggled just to afford a tiny apartment… yet now I command a fortress thousands of times greater and an undead army to match! Is this fate?” Hu Feng chuckled wryly, reflecting on his past hardships and anticipating the challenges ahead. Villas were trivial; in the shadow of a grand fortress, they were insignificant. On the Sunset Wasteland, the weak struggled to survive—but for a fortress lord commanding legions, life was boundlessly thrilling.

“Magic is the path to mastery; the soul is the source of power…”

Picking up the black, cold pen from the ground, Hu Feng murmured as a fragment of foreign memory stirred. Instinctively, he drew a complex rune in the air.

A flicker… and a flame erupted, blazing intensely, the heat palpable even in the biting wind. Blood traces evaporated instantly, rising in curling smoke.

No cumbersome staff, no long incantation—just a single rune, and a searing flame appeared. This… was magic?

Watching the dancing flame, feeling its searing heat, Hu Feng’s eyes widened. Though fleeting, the moment electrified him. His near-transparent magical and soul crystals burned away almost instantly, their minuscule power far less than even one-millionth of Ovisis at his peak—barely that of a novice mage. Yet, these tiny fragments bore the memory and will of a Lich King, planting the seeds of his cultivation within Hu Feng.

Novice power, semi-divine potential!

Inheriting Ovisis’s memories, Hu Feng realized he had inadvertently touched the very essence of magic coveted by countless sorcerers. Godhood—the ultimate aspiration of all cultivators—was near, yet failure often meant instant death. Some attained a semi-divine state, surviving to regain strength; others were reduced to mere remnants, hidden in darkness. Even in such diminished forms, the insights gained exceeded those of ordinary mages or holy warriors. The crystallized magical and soul energies represented the culmination of a lifetime’s cultivation. Ovisis had labored for over nine millennia, failing only at the final threshold, leaving Hu Feng with the potential to become a semi-divine, even godly, cultivator.

Undead cultivation differed from humans: without life force, one relied on soul fire and ambient magic, and the body was far weaker than mortal counterparts. Yet Ovisis had sworn to ascend, perceive the essence of magic, and understand life and death. Though scattered by lightning, he had crystallized legendary magical and soul energies—almost achieving rebirth.

“A genius… alas, I shall fulfill Ovisis’s dream, ascend to the pinnacle of godhood, and perceive the truth of life and death!” Hu Feng donned a black robe, hood drawn, setting his sights on cultivation and the relics left behind.

In the wasteland, survival was constant; beasts and rival mortals were ever a threat. His magical and soul crystals were weak—only novice level—but the potential within dwarfed ordinary skeletons.

What were magical and soul crystals? Mana crystallized and refined into essence, the soul crystallized and distilled into essence, and the soul crystallized and distilled into power. Once formed, these crystals granted unparalleled comprehension of magical law, swifter spellcasting, and devastating magical might far beyond the reach of ordinary mages.

“The Black Demon Pen, the Dark Ring, the Soul-Summoning Banner…”

Hu Feng carefully inventoried Ovisis’s treasures, excitement surging within him.

The Black Demon Pen was cold and obsidian-dark, emanating faint ripples of pure energy. Whether due to inheriting Ovisis’s soul imprint or some deeper resonance, it felt like an extension of his own body. With merely a few runes traced in the air, formidable magic could be unleashed—no wand, no incantation required.

The Dark Ring concealed an immense dimensional space. Though mostly empty now, it still contained a handful of crystal stones and equipment. Both artifacts were extraordinary, yet the most awe-inspiring treasure was the ancient and battered Soul-Summoning Banner.

According to Ovisis’s memories, the banner had been obtained thousands of years ago within the graveyards of the North Sea after surviving near-certain death. Once refined, it became the core of every magical array within the Lich Fortress and the most fearsome artifact in Ovisis’s possession. With sufficient mana, it could unleash cataclysmic devastation. During hunts, as long as enough mana and soul power remained, Ovisis could instantly return to the fortress through his connection with the banner. It could also gather soul energy from thousands of miles around, dramatically accelerating cultivation.

“What a magnificent artifact. From this day forward, let the world endure the wrath of Hu Feng, the new Lich King!”

Slipping the Dark Ring onto his finger, Hu Feng stood tall with renewed confidence. Streams of soul energy flowed endlessly from the Soul-Summoning Banner, causing his nearly transparent soul crystal to spin ever faster.

Though his current mana and soul force were far too weak to unleash the banner’s true might, the vast resources now at his disposal convinced him that it would not be long before the fury of the Lich King descended once more upon the endless wasteland. Perhaps one day, he would surpass even Ovisis himself.

“My Lord! This is bad—terribly bad!”

Before Hu Feng could continue examining the treasures within the hall and ring, a towering zombie warrior burst in frantically.

“My Lord, a powerful twelfth-rank Dark Knight has appeared outside and is cutting his way into the fortress!”

To the powerful, changing one’s appearance was trivial; what remained unchanged was the fluctuation of the soul itself. Though Ovisis had perished, a fragment of his soul and will now resided within Hu Feng. Thus, the zombie warrior regarded the hooded Hu Feng as the Lich King without the slightest suspicion.

A twelfth-rank Dark Knight?

Hu Feng tightened his grip on the Black Demon Pen, his expression darkening. While Ovisis had lived, not even a bird dared approach the fortress under his terrifying pressure. Yet scarcely had he fallen before a Dark Knight came seeking opportunity, clearly having sensed the upheaval within the castle.

Below the divine realm, all creatures of the wild were divided into sixteen ranks. The higher the rank, the more terrifying the power. Among undead beings, a twelfth-rank Dark Knight ranked second only to the fourteenth-rank Bone Dragon, far surpassing the third-rank zombie warriors and second-rank skeleton soldiers. A lone Dark Knight could effortlessly annihilate an army of hundreds of skeletons.

“Lead the way.”

Hu Feng wasted no time. Carrying the Soul-Summoning Banner, he strode forward before glancing at the zombie warrior’s massive frame.

“What is your name?”

“My Lord, I am captain of the Eighth Zombie Squad. I have no name. My designation is 9517.”

The towering undead answered respectfully, his nervousness tinged with overwhelming excitement. In all his years, he had never stood so close to the exalted Lich King. Had the higher undead not perished in the devastating shockwave earlier, he might never have earned the right to stand at Hu Feng’s side.

“Put on this Asura Battle Armor. From now on, your name is Arno. You will serve as my personal guard.”

Hu Feng cast a glance at the muscular undead before retrieving a sinister black suit of armor from the Dark Ring, its knees and elbows lined with vicious spikes. The zombie’s towering physique reminded him of a certain legendary Hollywood icon—Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The Dark Knight’s invasion made the dangers of the Sunset Wasteland painfully clear. Without Ovisis’s terrifying presence, the Lich Fortress had become prey coveted by countless enemies lurking in the shadows. He needed power—swiftly—and an invincible elite force to secure his survival.

“Yes, my Lord!”

The hulking zombie bowed deeply and hurried into the grotesque Asura armor, elation burning in his hollow eyes. To Hu Feng, such armor was insignificant, but to low-ranking undead like them, it was a priceless treasure.

Whoosh…

Stepping out of the towering hall, Hu Feng beheld a colossal fortress stretching nearly ten miles across—majestic, ancient, overwhelming. The immense walls were built from gigantic black stone blocks the size of heavy carts, each engraved with winding, mysterious runes. An aura of antiquity, authority, and desolation washed over him.

Before the palace stood ranks of zombie warriors and skeleton soldiers. At the sight of him, they dropped to the ground in unison, jaws agape as a silent cry erupted from the depths of their souls. Instantly, a violent wave of soul energy spread outward.

The earlier shockwave had annihilated nearly all high-ranking undead within the fortress—liches, dark knights, and stronger beings alike—while only a small number of low-ranking zombies and skeletons at the outskirts survived by sheer fortune.

“So this… is my Lich Fortress.”

Hu Feng’s eyes gleamed. Though Ovisis’s memories had already informed him that he had inherited an immense fortress and a vast undead legion, witnessing the disciplined ranks of undead kneeling before him and beholding the grandeur of the Lich Fortress with his own eyes still shook him to the core.

The King of Liches had returned.