The Imperial Scepter of Glory

Chapter 12 The Mountain Village Zombies

"Lock down all national roads? Why?" Lin Tan asked, his gaze sharpening. Florence was the easternmost nation of the Holy Cross Alliance, but it did not share a direct border with the Orc Empire. To the east and south, Florence faced the sea; to the west lay Liverpool, and to the north, the Meazza Kingdom. It was Meazza that bordered the Orc Empire, and it was there that battles had traditionally been fought over the years.

However, that did not mean Florence's geographical position was irrelevant in the war against the Holy Cross Alliance's greatest threat. On the contrary, Florence was one of the most crucial logistical hubs. Strategic supplies from various prosperous coastal nations were often shipped to Florence, then transported overland to Meazza to support the war effort against the orcs.

Given its strategic importance, blocking all entry roads into Florence was highly unusual. If Lin Tan were still in his soul state, he would have investigated without hesitation. But now, in his physical form, that was no longer an option.

The caravan consul stepped forward, his expression darkening as he grasped the situation. He turned to Lin Tan and asked, "What do we do now? This shipment has to reach Florence City by the end of the week. If there's a delay, I'll suffer a massive financial loss."

"And what do you expect me to do about a roadblock?" Lin Tan replied, irritated.

"You took the payment..." The consul began but trailed off, realizing that mercenaries couldn’t resolve such an issue.

Lin Tan's mind raced, and he recalled something. "I do know another route, though it might be a bit risky." Thanks to his past experiences wandering the land in soul form, he had memorized much of the continent’s geography.

"Risky? Damn it, what could be worse than failing to deliver my goods on time? Mr. Edward, lead the way!" The consul had no intention of accepting financial losses, so he quickly agreed to Lin Tan’s alternative route.

Without further delay, Lin Tan led the convoy off the main road and onto a narrow forest path. By dusk, they arrived at the foot of a mountain.

"Where are we?" The caravan leader—a well-dressed elderly gentleman—was already looking disheveled from hours of trekking through the forest. Still, despite the poor road conditions, they hadn't encountered any complete obstructions. However, the rough terrain had drastically slowed their pace.

"This is the southern tip of the Hailis Mountains. There’s a mountain pass here that will take us into Florence within half a day. The road isn’t as well-kept as a trade route, but it's passable for wagons. As for safety, this path is mainly used by hunters and other professionals looking to evade border taxes. It's quite secluded, so bandits are unlikely to appear. Plus, there's a small settlement up the mountain where we can rest for the night," Lin Tan explained.

"I see." The leader sighed in relief. His greatest fear was encountering bandits in the wilderness. Knowing that the path was relatively safe put him at ease. "How do we proceed from here?"

Lin Tan glanced at the darkening sky. "We should reach the settlement by nightfall and rest there. We can set off again at dawn."

After a brief discussion, the caravan agreed to the plan and resumed their journey. Even though Lin Tan had factored in the slow pace caused by rough terrain, they still arrived later than expected. Night had fallen by the time they reached the halfway point of the mountain.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse. Thick clouds veiled the moon and stars, shrouding the mountain in darkness. The mercenaries and merchants lit torches, their flickering flames casting long, uneasy shadows. Lin Tan rode to the front, alongside a two-handed swordsman carrying a torch. His brows furrowed as he peered into the distance, his expression grim.

"What is it?" Gallabron urged his horse forward and asked.

"Nothing," Lin Tan shook his head, but the crease between his brows remained. A strange unease weighed on him, much like the oppressive clouds smothering the moon above.

Seeing the weary faces around him, Lin Tan raised his voice. "Brothers, the settlement is just ahead! We can rest there for the night. Pick up the pace!"

The mercenaries responded, their voices tired but compliant. Though they were not entirely drained, exhaustion was beginning to set in after a long day’s journey.

Not long after, by the dim torchlight, they finally glimpsed the outlines of crude buildings in the distance. Encouraged, the group quickened their pace and soon arrived at the so-called mountain settlement.

Yet, the entire village was eerily empty.

It was only around six or seven in the evening—too early for everyone to be asleep. Moreover, their fifty-strong caravan should have been loud enough to rouse someone. And yet, not a single villager responded.

Perplexed, Lin Tan called out loudly in the village square, hoping to wake someone up. But aside from their own echoes, silence reigned.

Exchanging a glance at the two-handed swordsman, Lin Tan moved cautiously to a nearby house and gripped his weapon. He counted silently—one, two, three—before kicking the door open. The swordsman followed swiftly, torch in hand, illuminating the interior.

The house was empty. Aside from a few wooden chairs and tables, there was no sign of life.

A sense of unease prickled at Lin Tan. A year ago, when he had last visited in soul form, this had been a thriving settlement of over twenty families—more than a hundred mountain folk who lived by hunting, rugged and self-sufficient. Had the entire village been abandoned within a year?

Searching the room, Lin Tan finally found a clue: a faint trace of blood smeared on the inside of the wooden door.

His expression darkened as he stepped outside. The other scouts reported similar findings—every house was abandoned, with no traces of recent habitation.

Gallabron approached and murmured, "What now? Do we still stay here for the night? This place feels... unsettling." Abandoned villages were not uncommon for adventurers, especially near war-torn borders. But this was deep within the Holy Cross Alliance's territory, a remote and isolated place where mountain folk had likely lived for centuries. The idea that they had all vanished in just a year seemed implausible.

At that moment, the first snowflakes of the season began to fall from the dark sky..."