I'm The Only Necromancer In This Cultivation World-Chapter 50: City Lord Yang (part 1)

The orb pulsed once more, then collapsed inward.

Dark energy surged downward into Vayne’s corpse.

The body twitched.

Once.

Twice.

Bones shifted beneath torn flesh. The wound in the skull remained, but the bleeding stopped unnaturally fast, black veins spreading outward from the puncture like cracks in glass.

Slowly—

Vayne’s body pushed itself up from the ground.

Not like a living man struggling to stand.

But like something being lifted by invisible strings.

His head tilted slightly, the hole through his forehead still visible beneath matted hair.

Then, Aiden felt the connection settle into place. Heavy, powerful.

Different from the others.

He let out a slow breath.

"Success."

The former head chief of the city guards now stood among his ranks, silent, obedient, bound completely to his will.

The street was quiet again.

Vayne, no, the thing that used to be Vayne, stood motionless among the others, waiting for orders.

Aiden let out a slow breath and opened his status.

[Name: Aiden (Level: 11)]

Class: Necromancer (Death God — Locked)

Basic-Grade Summon: 12

Bronze-Grade Summon: 3

Iron-Grade Summon: 0

Silver-Grade Summon: 0

Gold-Grade Summon: 0

Legendary-Grade Summon: 0

Mythical-Grade Summon: 0

Summon Slot Available: 15/19

Skills: Lord of the Dead, Bone Shield, Bone Spear, Undead Reinforcement, Undead Sight, Possession Command

Passive Skills: Mana Channeling, Necrotic Sustain

Skill Points: 2

Aiden blinked.

Level 11.

He had been Level 9 before tonight.

He read it again to make sure.

Two levels.

He hadn’t expected that.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. Vayne really had been worth it.

The new summon slot count caught his attention too, nineteen total now. His capacity had increased again.

Good.

Very good.

But there was no time to stand around admiring numbers.

The street was a mess. Broken stone. A shattered carriage. Dead guards scattered across the ground. Anyone within a few streets would have heard something.

He unsummon all the undead.

After that he slipped into the darkness of a side alley, his undead melting into the night with him.

He didn’t look back.

----

What Aiden didn’t know, he wasn’t alone.

At the far end of the street, half-hidden behind a stack of wooden crates near a warehouse wall, a lone city guard crouched in the shadows.

He had been on patrol.

He had heard the first crash, the carriage breaking apart, and hurried toward the sound.

But when he reached the corner and saw what was happening...

He froze.

He saw the cloaked figures.

He saw the captain fighting.

He saw blades cutting into bodies that did not bleed.

And he saw something else.

That spear made of bone.

The way it formed from nothing.

The way it pierced through the captain’s head.

His legs had trembled so badly he nearly collapsed right there.

He wanted to step in.

He really did.

But his body refused to move.

He told himself he needed to observe. To report. That rushing in would only get him killed.

So he watched.

And then, he saw it.

He saw that cloaked man raise his hand again.

The next moment, the body of the head captain twitched, then stood up.

The guard slapped a hand over his own mouth to stop himself from screaming.

The captain is dead, unmistakably dead, was standing again.

When the cloaked man and his silent followers disappeared into the night, the guard stayed where he was for several long minutes.

Too afraid to move.

Too afraid to breathe too loudly.

When he finally stumbled out from hiding, his knees nearly gave out at the sight of the empty street.

The captain’s body was gone.

Only blood remained.

And the cowardly guard knew one thing for certain. Whatever he had witnessed tonight was something the city was not prepared for.

----

The next morning, the city woke up to rumors.

Four guards dead. The head captain’s carriage shattered into splinters near the eastern road. Blood still staining the dirt.

By noon, the story had spread to every corner of the city. Market vendors whispered while pretending to arrange their goods. Tavern owners leaned over counters, lowering their voices. Even the beggars near the gates were talking about it.

But there was one thing no one could confirm.

Was the head captain truly dead?

The City Lord released no statement. No funeral announcement. No official decree. Just silence.

And that silence made the rumors worse.

---

At the center of the city stood the City Lord’s villa, a massive estate surrounded by high stone walls and iron gates thick enough to withstand a battering ram. Armed guards stood watch at every entrance. Patrols circled the perimeter without pause.

Inside, the air felt heavy.

In a private chamber on the second floor, the City Lord sat behind a heavy desk carved from dark oak. His name was Yang, a man in his late forties with sharp eyes and streaks of gray at his temples. He wore a simple robe despite his status, but the jade ring on his finger marked his authority clearly enough.

Standing slightly behind him was his strongest warrior, Wip.

Wip was a large man, broad-shouldered and scarred from years of battle. His arms were folded across his chest, and a long sword rested at his side. Unlike Yang, his expression wasn’t calm. His jaw was tight.

In front of them, kneeling on one knee, was a city guard.

The guard’s armor was scratched, and dirt still clung to his boots. His face was pale. Sweat gathered at his temples even though the room was cool.

"You claim you saw what happened," Yang said quietly.

His voice wasn’t loud.

It didn’t need to be.

The guard swallowed. "Y-Yes, my lord."

Wip’s gaze pressed down on him like a physical weight. "Then speak clearly," he said. "And choose your words carefully."

The guard nodded quickly. "I was on patrol near the eastern road when I heard a crash. The captain’s carriage... it shattered. Like it was struck by something heavy."

Yang’s tapping fingers stopped.

"And?" he asked.

"I approached from the side alley," the guard continued, his voice trembling slightly. "There were cloaked figures. Several of them. They didn’t move like normal men."