Alcazava, was the name of the castle at the peak inside this port city.

The undead had excavated downwards along the mountain at the base of the castle, constructing the infamous "Mourning Palace." It was said that underneath were many prison cells, punishment rooms, and torture chambers, used to torment human captives transported from the La Mancha Plateau in the North.

Since Resentful Spirits could only be born from the bodies of humans who had experienced suffering and torture before death, the residents around the Mourning Palace often heard terrifying screams at night; and every week, a large number of bodies would be transported from the castle, pushed directly to the sea, and then dumped.

Of course, the mass production of Resentful Spirits was just for the amusement of that Resentful Spirit Demigod in the palace.

The birth of many specific undead races had special conditions and requirements for bodies. For instance, Banshees must come from female corpses, so one only needed to find and kill female Transcendents, which didn't impact the public as severely.

The conditions for the birth of Resentful Spirits were much crueler, thus the citizens kept silent, surrounded by baseless rumors. For example, rumors that "people would be randomly snatched from the streets to be tortured" led to a time when everyone was too scared to go out, and even if they did go out, they moved stealthily, in fear of being seen by the undead.

Ellie, with her face covered, sat silently in the tavern, listening to everyone's suppressed conversation, and couldn't help but feel an uncontrollable sadness rising in her heart.

She had originally thought the greatest harm war could do to humanity was steeling vibrant lives to kill each other on the battlefield for an elusive victory, never imagining that one day humans would become raw materials, recklessly and cruelly "processed" by the undead for their purposes...

Had it been before, she would have likely already been uncontrollably angry. But now she understood that simply drawing her sword would change nothing.

The root of the war lay in the invasion of Iberia by the Undead Kingdom.

What she really needed to do was simply end this war.

Sitting across from her, Medea drank her wine leisurely, discreetly observing the expressions on Eleanor's face.

"Aren't you angry?" she suddenly said in a low voice.

"Anger doesn't necessarily have to be shown on one's face," Eleanor answered calmly.

"Hmm," Medea tilted her head slightly, "He's here, keep an eye on our surroundings for me."

Eleanor nodded imperceptibly, as Will Fog began to spread, swiftly and invisibly enveloping the entire tavern.

The words of everyone present, the minute movements of their faces, and the small actions under the tables—all details fell under her control. The range of her detection continued to expand, quickly spreading to the street at the tavern's entrance.

Even the invisible Banshee that passed overhead in the street couldn't escape detection within her range. If an undead were to approach quietly, she would detect it immediately.

Medea stood up, her hood covering her alluring face, with only a curl of wine-red hair falling playfully from the edge.

Despite not seeing her face, the enticing curves of her body, suggested under her robe, immediately drew the attention of many patrons.

Douglas, who had just taken a seat at a table, was one of them. He was a slave trader who had recently offloaded a batch of human captives from the La Mancha Plateau in the city. Although he had seen countless women, this stunning beauty was a first for him.

Indeed, a stunning beauty.

Douglas had absolute confidence in his ability to assess people. For example, with the captives, he could tell their former occupations with just one glance. Hunters had well-developed back muscles, lumberjacks had robust biceps, and farmers had thicker waists than others... But this woman, judging by her sinuous walk, was clearly specially trained—the kind that could tempt someone the most.

However, judged by the amplitude of her movements, she was not the common tavern wench. A wench would deliberately twist their buttocks violently to showcase their figure as much as possible. But this woman's movements were just right—this could probably be attributed to one reason, that her face was also pretty enough, so she didn't need to overemphasize the perfection of her figure.

Face, figure, and speech compose the full temperament of a person. This woman's temperament was perfectly integrated, not comparable at all to those songbirds who attracted attention solely through their shapely figures.

Douglas thought this as he saw the other party approaching his table, slightly slowing her pace... Could it be that she had something to say to him?

He was momentarily stunned, then immediately became excited. To think that he, old Douglas, would also encounter a romantic adventure!

The faint blush of this thought had just crossed his mind when Medea's Mind Line struck him, and Douglas's original consciousness was immediately interrupted.

Under Medea's Control, he picked up his cup and continued to drink his wine dourly, while Medea herself made a round and returned to Eleanor's table.

"Let's go," she whispered, indicating that the Control was successful.

Eleanor stood up and left the tavern with Medea. A few patrons around them promptly got up and sneaked after them, only to forget what they were originally planning to do under the influence of Medea's group Mind Suggestion.

A few minutes later, Douglas silently finished his drink, then stood up and walked towards the exit of the tavern.

His several guard followers hurried to keep up, completely unaware of their boss's peculiarity.

Half an hour later, Douglas emerged from his own slave market with twelve guards surrounding him, leading a group of eight war captive slaves. All captives had their limbs tendons severed, chained with blood-stained iron chains, and walked forward wearily.

Douglas's eyes swept over the last person in line, a tall Transcendent woman whose Level was not low, fitting the "material" characteristics needed by Lord Ansalra perfectly.

The group moved swiftly, quickly ascending the mountain and arriving at the gates of Alcazava Castle.

Douglas exchanged a few words with the Wizard Apprentice waiting at the door, specifically pointing at the tall Transcendent woman at the end of the line, then handed over all the slaves, settled the accounts, and left.

The Wizard Apprentice led the slaves into the castle, descending into the Mourning Palace, only to suddenly see a Banshee drift toward them.

"What are these?" the Banshee inquired, her tone ethereal like a ghost, husky with an undertone of malevolent seduction.

"Materials needed by Teacher Ansalra," the Wizard Apprentice replied respectfully, head bowed, not daring to look up.

"Good, the Resentful Spirit materials in the palace are depleted," the Banshee slurred, "I will choose a few from your group to fill our vacancies."

"Please, select as you wish," the Wizard Apprentice internally lamented, but dared not directly refuse.

Through a faint Sense of Spirituality, he perceived that the Banshee's Level was high, and her appearance unfamiliar, likely not one of the Undead Spirits created by his teacher.

That meant she was a subordinate of the Resentful Spirit Demigod.

If a conflict arose, the Wizard Apprentice had no doubt his teacher would give him up to her directly, turning him into a stock member of the Resentful Spirit's storage. Therefore, he could only maintain a submissive demeanor, silently praying at least that high-quality Transcendent woman would not be chosen by her.

The high-Level Banshee circled the group, lightly touching one, two, three, four, five, six, seven… With each one she touched, a deeper sense of despair welled up in the Wizard Apprentice's heart.

It wasn't until she had chosen seven and left only the tall Transcendent woman behind that the Wizard Apprentice felt as though he had suddenly crawled out of Hell, displaying an unexpected expression of joy.

So... I understand now; she, too, knew that such an Advanced Transcendent woman was suitable for creating a Banshee, which is why she intentionally left it for the teacher!

No wonder, after all, she is a Banshee herself – why would she resist the opportunity to have more of her own kind around?

After bidding her respectfully once more, the Wizard Apprentice continued with the only remaining Transcendent woman in his group down to the lower levels of the palace.

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