Lynch felt a surge of secret joy. Throwing money at the problem was indeed the ultimate truth for accelerating cultivation in any profession. Just like that, another night passed.
Over the next two days, Lynch entered a frenzied state of cultivation. His life became a monotonous cycle between the dormitory, the cemetery, and the dining hall. Whenever his Mana was depleted, he downed an Awakening Potion. During Meditation, he supplemented it with focus potions, squeezing every ounce of value from both his time and the medicinal effects. As he burned through his resources, the experience bar for his Skeleton Resurrection Skill advanced at a pleasantly surprising pace.
Finally, on the evening of the third day, upon completing another cast, pale light cascaded like liquid silver, enveloping a large pile of bones. An intense, rapid series of bone-rattling CLACK CLACK CLACK echoed through the air. One, two, three... a full fifteen Skeleton Servants staggered to their feet from the bone pile. Their skeletal frames were relatively intact and structurally sound. Although they still bore the same dull, clumsy appearance, their sheer numbers gathered together created an imposing presence that could not be underestimated.
Meanwhile, the crisp, long-awaited notification chime rang in Lynch's mind.
DING.
[Your Skill Skeleton Resurrection Skill has leveled up to LV 1 (0003/3000).]
Looking at the fifteen majestic Skeleton Servants before him and feeling the spiritual link in his mind grow clearer, Lynch could not help but sigh with emotion. Three days. Such high-intensity cultivation, combined with tens of Gold Coins invested in potions, had finally pushed this crappy Skill to Tier One.
Lynch breathed a sigh of relief, his face filled with the profound satisfaction of a hardcore grinder who had just leveled up. With this Level 1 Skeleton Resurrection Skill and the command of his Bone Jade, his combat prowess would undoubtedly rise to a new level. He now felt a bit more confident about the upcoming academy assessment. It was just a pity that this bone pile belonged to the Undead Major's public assets; he had no right to take them away. Fortunately, he had already made other arrangements. It just meant spending a little extra money.
"Making money and cultivating, I can't stop either," he murmured. He casually dismissed the group of Skeleton Servants, watching them collapse back into dry bones. Sensing that his Spiritual Power was nearly depleted, he decided not to waste another Awakening Potion and headed straight out of the cemetery.
Another night of deep Meditation passed. When the morning sun streamed through the window lattice once more, Lynch awakened from his trance. He assessed his newly improved Spiritual Power and Mana, nodding in mild satisfaction. The pay-to-win cultivation yielded remarkable results.
Today, he did not return to the cemetery. Instead, after breakfast, he went straight to the academy's task distribution center: the Trial Hall. This official facility issued quests to all apprentices, rewarding them with credits upon completion. Credits were a crucial resource within the academy. They were used to exchange for Magic Models, cultivation resources, and access to special training grounds, even determining whether one could successfully graduate.
The hall bustled with people. Most were apprentices from the Holy Light System, Element, or Warrior majors, while those from the Undead System were virtually nonexistent. Ignoring the varied gazes directed his way, Lynch quickly scanned the task board. He ultimately accepted three assignments that lay along the same route and required minimal time. After processing the paperwork, he left the academy immediately.
Because he made no effort to conceal his movements, a few Holy Light System apprentices had noticed him early on. They now gathered together, glaring maliciously at his retreating back.
"Did you see that? The guy finally left his cave and even took on a quest."
"Hmph, this is a perfect opportunity. With Mr. Leon away, this Lynch is the most arrogant brat in the Undead Major. Last time, Mr. Barry tried to teach him a lesson but failed and got sneakily ambushed by him. We can't just let this slide."
"Hurry and go tell Mr. Barry."
The group plotted in malicious whispers.
***
Meanwhile, Lynch acted as if he had noticed nothing at all. He rented an ordinary carriage at the station near the academy gates and rode off into the distance. His destination was a small settlement located northeast of Saint Roland City, near the edge of the Black Swamp.
After about two hours of a bumpy ride, the carriage finally arrived. Lynch disembarked and followed a narrow dirt path into a secluded logging camp outside the town. The camp appeared to have been abandoned for quite some time. Collapsed wooden sheds and overgrown weeds around scattered tools gave the place a desolate atmosphere.
Meanwhile, deep within the logging camp, eight corpses lay neatly lined up in the corner of a wooden cabin. A pile of battered weapons was casually tossed aside nearby. The bodies bore various tattoos and old scars, resembling typical street thugs. Their fatal wounds were mostly caused by blades; unsurprisingly, they had likely perished in a gang turf war.
Five adventurers clad in worn Leather Armor paced around the room, restless and on edge. Each of them was deathly pale, looking as if they had just attended a funeral. Time ticked by slowly, and the atmosphere grew increasingly chilling.
One of the younger adventurers spoke with a sob in his voice. "Boss, are... are we really gonna wait for that guy? Shouldn't we... shouldn't we just run for it?"
"Run? Where the hell are we gonna run!?" the scar-faced man referred to as "Boss" growled, his voice tinged with equal fear. "Did you forget about the Death Mark planted inside us?"
Another tall, skinny adventurer added in despair. "Besides... that guy said if he doesn't personally remove the mark within three days, the Power of Death will erupt and turn us all into Undead Monsters."
"Then... what if we go beg the Holy Light Church for help?" The young adventurer still clung to a sliver of hope.
"No way!" The skinny man shook his head immediately, his voice trembling. "His lordship warned us! The moment the Death Mark touches Holy Light, it triggers instantly. You'll die even faster. You wanna become a Skeleton right now?!"
"Fuck! Plus, those bastards at the Holy Light Church are ruthless bloodsuckers anyway. I'd rather trust a Necromancer than see their filthy, hypocritical mugs," the scar-faced boss spat viciously onto the floor.
The cabin fell dead silent, thick with heavy despair and a faint, lingering sense of wishful thinking.
Right at that moment, the wooden door pushed open with a loud CREAK.
Everyone's eyes darted toward the entrance. A figure cloaked entirely in a black robe, gripping a sinister Bone Staff, stood in the doorway. Close behind him, a terrifying Skeleton Soldier followed his every step.
In the next instant, everyone's faces drained of even more color, and their bodies trembled uncontrollably.
The robed figure first swept his gaze over the eight corpses in the corner. Then, a chilling smile curled at the corners of his mouth. "I told you to procure fifteen fresh corpses, but I only see eight here..." he rasped, his voice icy and hoarse.
He paused. Under the despairing gazes of the adventurers, his tone grew even colder. "For the remaining seven... are you planning to count yourselves in?"