Chapter 6: Bells and Blood

Seeing our disgust, Sam Mason was unfazed. Instead, he smiled:

"It’s always like this the first time. After a few more, you’ll get used to it. The more you eat, the better your chances of surviving Livingston’s Northern Campaign."

His voice was soft, almost fatherly, as if he were offering us a secret to long life, not an abomination.

I was stunned. Livingston’s Northern Campaign? But hadn’t he just been hanged by Lucas Chan?

The world felt tilted, like the rules had changed again.

I wiped my mouth, about to ask what Sam Mason meant, when the horns sounded outside—the Northern Campaign army was attacking.

A chorus of bugles blared, boots thundered across the muddy camp, and someone shouted, "Positions!"

When the dust from the horses settled, the enemy finally revealed themselves: a mass of Maple Heights soldiers, eyes empty, faces expressionless. High among them, a four-wheeled carriage was carried by soldiers.

They moved like marionettes, silent except for the slap of boots and the creak of the carriage’s wheels. Tanya gripped my arm so hard her nails bit my skin.

Seated inside was none other than Professor Grant Livingston, whom I had seen hanged with my own eyes.

He looked like a ghost from a Civil War painting—skin ashen, eyes hollow, rope mark purple around his neck.

But the Livingston before me now had a deathly pale face, a clear ligature mark around his neck. He fanned himself with his eagle-feather pen, but all the feathers had fallen off, leaving only the bare bones.

The sight chilled me. The air seemed to freeze. A few soldiers crossed themselves or muttered prayers under their breath.

"What the hell is going on? Didn’t Livingston already get killed by Lucas Chan?"

Tanya’s fingers dug into my arm as we stared in disbelief. I turned to Sam Mason, but he looked at me like I was mad:

"General Holt, what are you talking about? Everyone knows Livingston usurped the government and forced Lucas Chan to his death. Now he’s no longer the County Commissioner, but the new Governor of Maple Heights."

I was thunderstruck. Only then did I notice Livingston’s academic robes were gone—replaced by a golden gubernatorial sash.

He sat regal and cold, the sash shining like fool’s gold in the gray light. I felt lost, unable to tell dream from waking.

My mind was in chaos until I remembered Livingston’s words: "When you see me again, light the Seven Star Lamp."

But where was I supposed to find such a lamp?

The memory of his instructions haunted me, but I had no clue where to even start looking. My hands shook as I checked my pockets, hoping for some miraculous clue.

As I pondered, the war drums thundered and an enemy general charged forth. Oddly, though he was alone, our soldiers were terrified.

The thud of his boots, the wildness in his eyes—he looked less like a man than a beast unleashed.

"It’s... it’s the Blood Ghost Wayne!"

I heard soldiers muttering prayers:

"God help me, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die."

It struck me as strange—one man, and yet such fear? But reality soon chilled my heart.

Wayne charged alone into the ranks; in an instant, limbs and blood flew everywhere. A spearman stabbed him, another soldier chopped off his arm, but Wayne just threw back his head and laughed madly. He grabbed the spearman and bit into his neck. In a blink, the man was a shriveled corpse, and not only did Wayne’s wounds heal, his severed hand grew back.

The horror was biblical—no one had seen anything like it since the days of outlaw legends and bloody Civil War tales.

As Wayne slaughtered his way to our front lines, Sam Mason gave an order. Dozens of giant, burly men charged out.

"Red-Eyed Squad, heed my command—kill Wayne!"

The ground shook as they stormed into battle, eyes glowing like brake lights in the dark.

Looking at these hulking, red-eyed monsters, I couldn’t help but ask:

"Who are these people?"

Sam Mason grinned, proud:

"The meatballs are my unique weapon against the death warriors of the Northern Campaign. Eat one, and you’ll never feel hunger or fatigue. Ten, and your strength multiplies, fearless in battle. A hundred, and your body grows many times larger, your eyes turn red, and even the evil spirits of Maple Heights can be slain."

His tone was half boast, half confession—a mad scientist explaining his masterpiece.

As he spoke, the Red-Eyed Squad and Wayne clashed. After killing three Red-Eyed soldiers, Wayne was badly wounded. He tried to suck the blood of one, but his eyes bulged and veins popped with agony. In the next instant, Wayne exploded into a cloud of blood mist.

The mist shimmered in the sunset, then twisted into something new.

From the mist, several white-boned snakes shot out, flying toward Livingston. Sam Mason’s face changed:

"Loose arrows!"

Arrows rained down, and Mason himself sliced open his palm, releasing a blood shadow that flew with the arrows at the bone snakes. Most were destroyed, but one, wounded, slithered back to the Maple Heights army, writhing on the ground before going still.

Only then did I see it clearly: it wasn’t a snake, but Wayne’s spine, his skull attached, twisting like a serpent.

Even dying, Wayne laughed:

"Governor, I understand now—corpse flesh, living blood, monsters neither dead nor alive. No wonder they don’t fear the Yellow Heaven, not even blood can save them. Mason, you’re truly wicked. But since His Excellency knows your secret, you have no hope of victory."

With that, Wayne’s soul dispersed, and the enemy sounded the retreat. We had won, but Sam Mason’s face was ashen.

His hands trembled as he wiped sweat from his brow, eyes darting like a hunted animal. Tanya rocked back and forth, arms hugging her chest, whispering prayers she hadn’t said since childhood.