I'm The Only Necromancer In This Cultivation World-Chapter 51: City Lord Yang (part 2)

Wip frowned. "Assassins?"

"Yes..." the guard whispered. "And they are not normal."

He hesitated.

"Continue," Yang said.

"The captain fought them," the guard said. "He was strong. I’ve seen him fight before. He cut through two of them. But they... they didn’t even bleed. They kept moving."

Wip’s eyes narrowed.

"And then?" Yang asked.

The guard’s hands clenched against the floor.

"One of them raised his hand," he said. "And a spear formed. From nothing. It looked like bone."

The room fell silent.

"Bone?" Wip repeated.

"Yes," the guard said quickly. "It appeared in the air. Then it shot forward and pierced through the captain’s head."

Wip exhaled slowly through his nose.

Yang’s face did not change, but his gaze sharpened.

"You are certain?" Yang asked.

"I saw it with my own eyes, my lord."

The guard’s breathing grew uneven.

"So where is Vayne’s body?" Yang pressed.

The guard’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"The cloaked man raised his hand again. And... Head Captain’s dead body rose."

Wip shifted slightly. "What nonsense are you—"

"It’s not nonsense!" the guard blurted, then immediately lowered his head. "Forgive me. I swear it’s the truth."

He swallowed.

"The body twitched. Then it stood up."

Silence.

Even the wind outside seemed to pause.

Yang leaned back slowly in his chair. "You are telling me," he said carefully, "that Vayne died... and then stood up again."

"Yes, my lord."

"Alive?"

The guard hesitated.

"...No. Not alive."

Wip stepped forward slightly. "Explain."

"He moved," the guard said. "But it wasn’t like a living man. It was stiff. Like something was pulling him. His head... the wound was still there."

A faint crease appeared between Yang’s brows.

"And then?"

"They left shortly after." the guard reports.

The word hung in the air.

Yang’s fingers resumed their slow tapping.

After a long moment, he spoke.

"You have done your duty," Yang said calmly. "Return to your post. Speak of this to no one else."

"Yes, my lord!"

The guard bowed deeply, then hurried out of the room, relief and fear mixed in his steps.

When the door closed, only Yang and Wip remained.

Yang remained seated for a long moment after the guard left.

The door shut with a dull thud, and the chamber fell quiet again. Outside the tall windows, the city moved as it always did, vendors shouting, carts rolling, people arguing over prices.

But inside the room, the air felt heavy.

Yang’s fingers tapped once against the armrest. Then he stopped and looked at the man beside him.

"What do you think, Wip?"

Wip didn’t answer right away.

He stood with his arms crossed, staring at the closed door as if the guard’s words were still lingering in the air. His brow was furrowed, jaw tight. He had faced bandits, rogue practitioners, even powerful beasts that wandered too close to the city walls.

But this?

After a while, he exhaled.

"I don’t have any idea, my lord."

It wasn’t something Wip said often. He was a man who usually had answers. Plans. Solutions.

Yang gave a faint, humorless smile.

"Me too."

He rose slowly from his chair and walked toward the window. From here, he could see the inner streets of the city he governed. The rooftops. The banners hanging from shops. The patrol routes of his guards.

His city.

"But one thing is for sure," Yang said quietly. "We need to find them... and kill them before they destroy my city."

There was no hesitation in his voice now.

Wip uncrossed his arms. "You believe the guard?"

Yang’s gaze stayed on the city.

"In this world," he said, "there are strange techniques. Hidden sects. Forbidden arts. But reviving the dead?"

"In all my years, I have never heard of such a thing."

Neither had Wip.

In a cultivation world where warriors refined their bodies and spirits, where swordsmen could split boulders and masters could walk on air, death was still absolute.

Once someone died, they stayed dead.

That was law.

"A person who can revive a corpse..." Yang murmured.

Wip’s voice dropped. "That’s something out of a horror story."

Wip stepped forward. "Give me the order."

Yang didn’t hesitate.

"Mobilize everyone," he said. "Double the patrols. Seal the eastern district. Question every night guard on duty. I want informants in every tavern and every gambling den. Spread word through the underworld that I’m paying triple for information."

His voice grew colder with each command.

"Search for anyone practicing strange arts. Any rumors of corpses moving, missing bodies, unexplained sightings, I want them reported directly to you."

Wip nodded once. "Yes, my lord."

"And Wip."

He paused at the door.

"If you find them," Yang said, his tone sharp as a blade, "do not attempt to capture them."

Wip understood immediately.

"Kill them."

"Yes."

The word landed like a stone.

Wip pushed the door open and strode down the corridor, already issuing orders to the guards stationed outside. The calm atmosphere of the villa shattered within minutes. Messengers ran through the halls. Horn signals echoed from the outer walls. Patrol captains were summoned in haste.

The estate transformed into a war machine.

Back inside the chamber, Yang stood alone.

He looked once more toward the city beyond his walls.

Yang’s fingers curled behind his back.

"I will not let you turn my home into a nightmare," he muttered under his breath.

---

By the time Aiden returns to the Bone Contract Hall, the city has long since fallen asleep. He hadn’t come back the previous day, only now does he return, moving carefully. He’s making sure no one traces his steps.

It was past one in the morning. The streets were empty, lanterns burning low, their flames flickering weakly against the night wind. Only the distant footsteps of patrolling guards broke the silence now and then.

Aiden slipped through the back entrance of the hall without a sound.

The Bone Contract Hall looked no different from any other abandoned building from the outside, cracked walls, faded signboard, shutters that barely held together. But inside, it was clean. Maintained. Quiet.

Three figures were still awake.

They were gathered around a wooden table lit by a single oil lamp. The flame cast long shadows across the walls, making the room look larger than it was.