Diablo traveled through time and became a necromancer

The soul fire in Skeleton Brother's eye sockets suddenly shrank, condensing into two needle-sharp points of incandescent white. His jaw opened and closed, and his hoarse, cold, and flat voice rubbed like two rusty bones, clearly piercing the silence of the forest:

"learn."

Before he finished speaking, its massive skeleton had already turned into a pale afterimage! Without a run-up, without gathering strength, it charged straight at the scarred, bald man with terrifying speed brought about by the instantaneous burst of power!

Scarface's pupils suddenly shrank, and he shouted, "You're looking for death!" The heavy scimitar in his hand made a sound of breaking wind as it fiercely chopped towards Skeleton Brother's head! The force of the knife was heavy and the angle was tricky, clearly showing years of immersion in knife techniques.

The skeleton didn't even raise his sword to block. Just as the scimitar was about to touch his forehead, he suddenly tilted his head!

"Qiang——!"

A sharp clang of metal clashed! The scimitar slashed fiercely across Skeleton Brother's shoulder blade! The expected scene of flying bone fragments did not occur. The scimitar was like hitting the hardest steel. The huge recoil force cracked Scarface's palm, and the scimitar was almost lost in his hand! The grim smile on his face froze in an instant, turning into unbelievable horror.

Skeleton Brother's movements didn't falter. The moment the blade struck his shoulder blade, his free left arm shot out like a venomous snake, its five fingers precisely clasping Scarface's knife-wielding wrist! The force was so immense, like the closing of an iron clamp!

"Crack!" The teeth-grinding sound of bone cracking rang out clearly!

"Ah!" Scarface screamed miserably as his wrist was crushed and the scimitar fell out of his hand.

Skull Brother raised his right arm, and the rune-wrapped giant sword, wrapped in purple-black lightning, brought a suffocating sense of oppression as it silently slashed down towards Scarface's face, which was twisted in pain! There was no whistling sound of wind, only the pure, cold trajectory of death.

The last thing Scarface saw was the blade of the giant sword, burning with ominous lightning, which was getting closer and closer.

"Pfft!"

A dull sound. The sword blade split open the skull, cheek, jaw, and chest without any hindrance! Scarface's sturdy body was like a rotten wood being split open, splitting left and right. Scalding blood and shattered internal organs spurted out, splashing onto the pale bone armor of Brother Skeleton and the ground, making a "sizzling" sound.

The whole process happened as fast as lightning! From the moment Skeleton Brother rushed out to Scarface being split in half by a sword, it took only a breath!

The remaining three pursuers were completely horrified by this bloody, terrifying, and extremely efficient slaughter! The fierceness on their faces was instantly replaced by boundless fear, and they subconsciously retreated. One of them even felt his legs weaken, and he collapsed to the ground.

The skeleton slowly turned, its greatsword, stained with sticky blood and shredded flesh, pointed diagonally at the ground, sticky drops of blood dripping from the tip. Its hollow eye sockets turned toward the three terrified pursuers, its soul fire burning coldly.

"Goods?" Skull Brother's hoarse voice sounded again, with an inorganic, creepy question, "Torien's... garbage?"

As the last word fell, it moved.

There was no charge, only steps. But each step carried the weight of a collapsing mountain. The greatsword dragged behind him, plowing a shallow trail of blood in the ground.

"Run...run!" One of the pursuers finally collapsed, screamed, turned around and fled, rolling and crawling towards the dark woods.

Skeleton Brother raised his left arm and threw the dagger at the fleeing figure.

"Want to run?"

The skeleton brother used his still-nimble dagger to catch up with the fleeing person in an instant with a sharp sound of breaking through the air!

"Puff, puff, puff!" The dagger pierced his left leg accurately! The man screamed and fell to the ground, his body pierced through, twitching in vain like an insect nailed to a specimen board.

The remaining two people were terrified. One of them raised the crossbow in his hand and frantically pulled the trigger at Skeleton Brother!

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

The poisoned crossbow bolts struck Skeleton Brother's sternum and arm bones, making a crisp "ding ding" sound, as if hitting an iron plate. The arrowheads twisted and deformed, and bounced off and fell to the ground. The tiny amount of poison had no effect on its armored body.

After all, ordinary people’s weapons can’t hurt Skeleton Brother at all now.

The Skeleton Brother ignored the futile crossbow bolts. It had already reached the last two pursuers. The greatsword swept out with the shadow of death!

"No——!" The desperate roar was torn apart by the sword.

The sword flashed, and two heads shot up into the sky. The headless corpse swayed and fell to the ground. The blood spurting from the neck cavity dyed the surrounding ferns red.

The woods fell silent again. Only the crackling of the campfire, the gurgling of the stream, and the faint groans of the pursuer, who was nailed to the ground but not yet dead, could be heard.

Skull Brother slowly retracted his giant sword, the blood plasma on the sword appearing particularly sticky under the reflection of the soul fire. He turned around and faced Wu Ye. The soul fire in his eyes returned to a faint blue, but his hoarse voice remained as cold as ever:

"Garbage...cleaned up."

Skeleton Brother's eyes swept over the female scout who was curled up on the ground, trembling with extreme fear, and then he silently put away his weapon.

Wu Ye looked at the instantaneous Shura battlefield before him, a battlefield much smaller than the canyon battlefield but no less bloody. His stomach churned again. But this time, he didn't vomit. A deeper chill overwhelmed the physical discomfort. Thorien's name coiled in his heart like a venomous snake.

These pursuers were well-trained and had a clear goal: to capture a wounded female soldier and take her back as "cargo." The darkness behind this was chilling enough to imagine.

He walked up to the pursuer who was pinned to the ground by the dagger. The man's face was pale from the severe pain and blood loss, and his eyes were filled with fear of death and boundless horror of the skeleton brother.

"What does Thorien want her to do?" Wu Ye's voice was calm, yet filled with undeniable oppression, like ice. "What does 'cargo' mean? Where should it be sent?"

The pursuer's lips trembled, and he couldn't speak clearly because of the severe pain: "...I...don't know...the higher-ups...only said to send you alive...and intact...to the lighthouse...cellar..." A trace of extreme fear suddenly flashed in his eyes, as if he remembered something more terrifying than the skeleton in front of him, "...don't...don't send me there...that's...hell...if a living person goes in...and comes out...he's...not a human being..." He suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood foam, and his eyes began to blur.

Lighthouse cellar! Another lighthouse cellar! A living person goes in, and comes out dead? Wu Ye's heart sank. Branwell Lighthouse, that building that looked eerie even in the sun, what kind of blasphemous horror was hidden beneath it?

He took a deep breath, suppressed his turbulent thoughts and the chill brought by the pursuer's words, walked over to the almost terrified female scout, and squatted down. The light from the campfire illuminated her bloodless face and terrified eyes.

"Are you from Rogge Camp?" He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible, with a subtle hint of comfort.

The female scout stared at him in horror, then at the demon-like skeleton standing still behind him. Her body trembled even more violently. She recognized the elder's emblem on Wu Ye's chest, and a faint glimmer of hope flashed in her eyes, but more of it was the fear of the bloody massacre that had just occurred.

"Yes... yes... are you Elder Wu Ye?" Her voice was hoarse and weak, with tears in her voice. She tried hard to support her body to salute, but it pulled the wound and made her gasp in pain. "I... I am from the third reconnaissance team... Eileen... Our team... discovered... discovered that they were using living people... to perform... a terrible ritual... right under the lighthouse... We were discovered... The captain and others... all died... to cover me..." She choked and couldn't go on. Tears mixed with the stains on her face slid down her face, and she subconsciously covered her injured left arm.

Horrible rituals, living people, the lighthouse cellar... the "hell" the pursuers talked about, all these fragments pieced together, pointing to a horrifying truth. Thorien, the general of Westmarch, actually carried out such a sinister act under Rogge's nose!

Wu Ye's gaze fell on the blood-soaked cloth on her arm, his brow furrowed. The wound was clearly severe, and the edges were blackened, seemingly carrying some kind of corrosive energy residue.

"Can you still walk?" he asked, a hint of concern in his tone.

Irene gritted her teeth and struggled to stand up, but the severe pain and blood loss made her vision black. Her body swayed, and she fell back weakly, her face full of despair and shame: "I'm... I'm sorry... Elder... I..."

Wu Ye sighed. He couldn't leave her here. Even though the pursuers had been dealt with, there was no guarantee there wouldn't be follow-up. Furthermore, the information she shared was crucial. He pulled a roll of clean bandages and a small bottle of softly glowing healing potion from his backpack. This was the diluted holy water Akara had given him when they left Rogge Camp. It was miraculous for dispelling fel energy and healing wounds.

"Take care of the wound first." He gestured to Skeleton Brother to keep watch while he carefully untied the blood-stained bandage from Irene's arm. The wound was deep, the flesh tangled, the edges an ominous purple-black, and it emitted a faint, fishy odor. It was clearly the result of some dark, corrosive weapon.

He carefully rinsed the wound with stream water and carefully dripped the holy water potion onto it. The moment the potion touched the wound, a slight "sizzling" sound was heard, and a faint black aura was forced out and dissipated. Irene shuddered in pain, a cold sweat pouring down her face, but she bit her lip tightly and didn't cry out, only looking at Wu Ye with gratitude.

"The lighthouse cellar... do you know its exact location?" Wu Ye asked gravely as he carefully bandaged the wound with a clean bandage. He needed more precise information.

Irene nodded weakly, the slight comfort brought by the bandage cheering her up a bit, but the remaining fear in her eyes was still strong. "I know... the entrance... is at the base of the lighthouse... behind an... abandoned storage room... there's a secret door... inside... it's very big... very dark... there are many... people trapped in iron cages... and... monsters..." She shuddered, as if she saw the hellish scene again. "The guards... are very strong... there... there are mages... wearing black robes... the aura... is very evil..."

A black-robed wizard? A monster? A prisoner? Wu Ye's heart sank. This wasn't just a military outpost; it was more like a den for sinister experiments or rituals! Thorien's ambition and cruelty far exceeded his imagination.

He finished bandaging the wound, stood up, and looked toward Branwell. As the night deepened, the beam of light from the lighthouse's summit seemed even more glaring and ominous in the darkness, like a demonic eye peering down upon the earth. The gurgling of the stream and the crackling of the campfire seemed so distant now. An invisible, immense pressure loomed over him.

"Brother Skeleton," Wu Ye said, his voice filled with unprecedented solemnity and determination, as if he had made some kind of resolution. "Looks like we need to go to that lighthouse and 'visit' General Torien's cellar. There's some garbage that needs to be cleaned up at the source."

The Skeleton Brother's jaws opened and closed, his soul fire leaped, and his hoarse voice echoed in the silent forest, carrying a hint of cold expectation:

"Just what I want. The garbage dump needs to be thoroughly cleaned up."

The wound on Irene's arm, where the holy water had been applied, felt a cool sensation, and the tormenting black energy and burning pain seemed to be suppressed. She leaned exhausted against the warm rock, watching Wu Ye carefully retrieve the used bandage and medicine bottle into his consciousness. The light from the campfire illuminated his focused profile, and this silence actually warmed Irene's fingers, which had been frozen and stiffened with fear.

"Thank you...thank you, Elder..." Her voice was still hoarse, but a little calmer than before.

Wu Ye waved his hand, saying nothing. He gazed deep into the gloomy woodland. The glaring halo atop Branwell Lighthouse seemed even more eerie and ominous against the inky night, like a single eye opened at the end of the abyss. The tranquility of Whispering Wind Wood was ultimately an illusion; the tentacles of blood and evil had already spread there.

"Take a break," Wu Ye's voice broke the silence. "We'll set off before dawn in three hours."

Irene nodded and closed her eyes wearily. Though the pain in her body had eased, the immense mental exhaustion and previous fear still left her drowsy. Soon, faint snores rose above the crackling of the campfire.

The silence of Whispering Woods was shattered by the distorted light of the distant lighthouse. Wu Ye sat cross-legged beside the fading campfire, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the cool edge of the cast-iron skillet. The flames danced in his eyes, reflecting the rage boiling deep within.

The Skeleton Brother's tall frame silently approached, like another rock peeled from the night, casting a reassuring shadow beside Wu Ye. It didn't sit down, but like Wu Ye, it cast its gaze, burning with a dark blue soul fire, toward the lighthouse. After a moment's silence, a smooth, deep voice broke the chill of the night:

"The evil aura of that place is so intense, even from this distance, it's overwhelming." Its jaws opened and closed, its voice filled with undisguised disgust. "It's like the smell of blood, pus, and festering souls stuffed into a jar and stirred for centuries. It's even more disgusting than those guards we stabbed under the blood moon, driven mad by Old Li's resentment."

Wu Ye's eyes flashed. "Are you sure? It comes from the same source as Thorien's 'Blood Shield'?" He unconsciously clenched his fists, his nails almost digging into the rough wood grain of the frying pan handle.

"Same origin? It's better to say that the little thing in the canyon just whetted my appetite." The Skeleton Brother's voice was filled with a hint of cold contempt. It stretched out its hand covered with pale finger bones and pointed at the pale light of the lighthouse in the distance.

"That's the real deal. That disgusting feeling, like there's a rotten source oozing pus non-stop! Old Wu, this place..." He paused, his soul fire suddenly contracting, as if trying to overcome some discomfort, "...it feels particularly 'stinky' to me."

Wu Ye's last remaining doubts were dispelled. Thorien's wields were no ordinary sorcery. The power that could corrupt and transform living things lay entrenched beneath that lighthouse! A cold murderous intent, mixed with a thoroughly ignited rage, tensed his spine.

"The entrance guard," Wu Ye's voice seemed to be squeezed out from the depths of his throat, with a rusty taste. "Erin said it was very strong, and there was also a black-robed mage. Can you tell the real situation?"

The skeleton shook its smooth skull decisively, its movements a warrior's sharpness. "There's an uncanny force field covering it, specifically designed to block detection," it analyzed fluently. "It's like a thick, slippery layer of black hide, tightly wrapped, only letting the stench through to disgust you. Want to see the entrance? You have to go inside to find out." The soul fire swayed slightly, reflecting the symbolic cold and hard lines of its mandible. "It seems that this 'welcome' carpet in Westmarch is quite prickly."

"Prick your feet? Then tear up this filthy rug!" Wu Ye's voice suddenly rose, his suppressed anger almost bursting out. He stood up suddenly, and the wind from his clothes extinguished the last embers of the campfire.

"When has Kasha's mission ever been easy? But this time is different!" He turned his head suddenly, his eyes as sharp as a knife, staring fiercely at the empty eye sockets of the Skeleton Brother. The soul fire burning inside seemed to be responding to his anger.

"This bunch of bastards! They kill demons, that's their ability! They kill bandits, that's what they deserve! But they attack our sisters!" Every word was like a red-hot iron block hitting the ground, "The Third Reconnaissance Team... Irene's captain and comrades..." Wu Ye's voice choked, and then was replaced by a more violent murderous intent.

"What qualifications do they have to be called human beings?!"