Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 713: Ideas

Michael could not be blamed for that assumption. The system did not reward him for killing humans. No familiar panel floated into view to announce experience gained, no neat line of text to confirm a kill.

Michael shook his head once, clearing the stray thought. He lowered his spear slightly and stepped closer.

Black blood still steamed softly on the ice around the elder. The poison that Venomfang had pushed into his body gnawed at every vein and meridian like acid. Up close, Michael could see how badly the man was ruined. His aura was in tatters, leaking from him in broken, ragged pulses that did not match the image of a Rank four at all.

Even so, when Michael sent his senses inward, he felt it.

A faint, stubborn pulse.

Life.

His gaze narrowed in quiet surprise.

”Still alive,” he murmured.

It was not admiration for the man himself that made him sigh, but for what that stubborn heartbeat represented. This was a Rank four life form. Someone who did not even look like a physical specialist. Yet after suffering poison that would have melted ordinary bodies, after tearing himself open with a Domain under suppression, after being crushed under his undead and battered from all sides, he still clung to existence.

Michael let out a slow breath.

The gap between ranks was terrifying.

He suspected that even if he managed to stab the old man outside hell, in a good state the poison would probably just die by itself. Fortunately, Michael was the advantageous person here.

He stood over the collapsed Rank four, silent for a long breath as the steam from the poisoned blood curled around his boots.

Now that the immediate tension of the clash had faded, another question rose in his mind.

What to do with him?

The most straightforward option was death.

End it cleanly, make sure the elder never woke up to cause trouble again, then preserve the body.

The thought unfolded quickly.

If he killed the old man here, he could seal the corpse, store it properly, and wait. When he advanced to Rank three and his control over death and contracts deepened, he could attempt to raise the elder as undead.

A Rank four corpse turned into an undead under his command.

Michael could not deny that the idea made something in his chest stir. His lips curved slightly despite himself. That sort of piece on the board was not something he could ignore. Just imagining the old man as a silent, obedient weapon in his legion was enough to make the option feel very tempting.

The smile faded a moment later as another thought slipped in.

If turning him into an undead later was possible, was that really the best he could do with a living Rank four right now?

Michael’s gaze lowered to the elder’s chest. The faint pulse of life was still there. Weak, but stubborn.

A different possibility took shape.

Instead of killing him and gambling on a future resurrection, why not try to make him a servant now?

There were ways.

He still had the master servant slave contract. One binding, and the old man would be forced to obey.

In theory.

Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The problem was not the method. It was the gap. The contract had limits. He had used it on people close to his level before, never on someone this far above him. A Rank four whose foundations were built long before Michael even awakened.

If the old man recovered enough, there was a real chance he could tear apart the binding through raw power or by exploiting flaws Michael could not see yet.

A servant who could break free later was not a servant. It was a hidden blade aimed at his back.

His thoughts shifted again.

There was also the blood path.

Michael’s hand twitched slightly as he considered it, fingers flexing on the spear shaft.

He could, in theory, merge his blood with the elder’s and turn him into a blood servant. Someone who would carry his mark in their veins, bound through the most fundamental link he possessed.

Loyalty enforced at the level of blood and origin.

On paper, it was stronger than a simple contract. Harder to disobey, harder to sever.

But the risks were worse.

This man was a Rank four. Even half dead, his understanding of laws and control over his own body were terrifying. Michael could not say with certainty that the elder would not be able to resist the influence of his blood, or at least twist it, weaken it, or study it.

That was the worst case.

If the old man managed to push back against the authority hidden in Michael’s blood, it would mean two things.

First, that the control was not absolute.

Second, that the existence of his bloodline and talent would be exposed to someone who had every reason to hate him.

That was no longer just a disobedient servant. That was an enemy who had glimpsed one of his greatest secrets.

Michael’s expression cooled.

He knew how rare his advantages were. To show them to a stranger, to a hostile Rank four, just for a chance at a servant was a gamble he could not take lightly.

His gaze lingered on the old man’s unmoving form.

Another thought surfaced.

A third option.

Not resurrection later.

Not a servant who might break free.

Not a blood bond that carried unacceptable risks.

He could remove the old man’s consciousness entirely.

Leave the body alive but empty. A breathing shell with no will, no resistance, nothing left but instinctive obedience to whatever command he imprinted afterward.

A living puppet.

This was simply the cleanest method. A Rank four body under his control without the mind that made it dangerous.

Jester could do it. The mind arts extracted from Li Yang plus its original abilities which did the actual work were terrifying in precision. If the old man’s consciousness was ripped out at the roots, nothing of him would remain except flesh and power.