As long as you have the courage, fierce ghosts go on maternity leave.

In the front courtyard of the city lord’s mansion, belonging to Anlan’s faction, ethereal figures materialized behind the raised throne. These were the guardians that Anlan could choose to deploy into the canyon every half-hour.

At the moment, all eyes were fixed on the distant canyon. However, a serpentine chain of dark mountains obscured their view. They could only listen to the sounds that wafted from afar.

Boom!

Suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed, and plumes of thick smoke rose above the canyon. Soon after, sporadic sounds of battle and eerie wails pierced the air, as if two massive armies were locked in ferocious combat. Intermittent explosions resounded, accompanied by the relentless rat-tat-tat of firearms.

"What a brutal battle! You have to admit, these ’bugs’ don’t hold back, even against their own—using grenades and rocket launchers!" One ghostl figure behind the throne commented as they listened to the distant sounds.

"Indeed," another ghost figure chimed in, scanning the rising smoke. "If it weren’t for the fact that we are already ghosts, immune to real-world weaponry, we’d be completely outmatched by these chosen ones."

Everyone was waiting. Waiting for the first ghostly guardian to emerge after half an hour, and waiting for triumphant news from the frontlines.

Then, a blue crystal burst into vibrant light. Anlan jolted upright, and her subordinates tensed instantly. The light meant someone had sustained mortal wounds and had been teleported back.

As the blue light flickered, a figure appeared in a battered state—drenched in blood, clothes torn, and shouting: "Blow him up! Blow that bastard up!"

"Such a fighter... such devotion," the ghosts couldn’t help but marvel at the chosen one sprawled on the ground yet still yelling for combat.

Moved, Anlan rose from her throne. "Chosen one, you’ve suffered grievous wounds for me, yet you haven’t forgotten the ongoing battle in the canyon. You’ve earned my respect."

With that, Anlan manipulated a dark bead in her palm. A bluish liquid then flew toward the injured chosen one. Within moments, his wounds began to heal rapidly.

"Here’s a potion to mend your injuries. And this blue bottle will replenish your ghostly energy. Take them and rejoin the battle!"

She tossed two bottles, one red and one blue, before the chosen one. Initially stunned, his face broke into a smile of gratitude as he grabbed the bottles and sprinted back toward the canyon.

"To face death unflinchingly—that is a true warrior," Anlan and the other ghostly figures couldn’t help but muse, watching his retreating form.

In the distance, the clamor of battle seemed endless. Sporadic booms rang out, and plumes of black smoke, billowed by high-explosive bombs or rocket launchers, drifted across the sky. Soon, another flash of blue light erupted.

The newly transported "chosen one" was even more pitiful than the last, drenched in his own blood. A machete was lodged in his arm, seemingly stuck in the bone.

With a firm grip on the hilt, he yanked it out violently, causing blood to gush like a fountain and large flaps of skin to turn inside out.

Without even a grunt, the chosen one grabbed the hilt in reverse and made a dash toward the gorge. "Wait, warrior, wait!" Anlan was genuinely astonished. "What a valiant man!"

A blob of blue liquid emerged from the ghost bead in Anlan’s palm, swiftly healing the chosen one’s injuries. "Thank you, Miss Anlan! Rest assured, I, Gimel, will give my all to the faction I have joined and secure its victory."

"So, it’s the warrior Gimel!" Admiration filled Anlan’s eyes. After a moment’s thought, a sharp broadsword materialized in her hand.

"This sword is a top-notch solider weapon, called the Dolan Sword. It not only enhances the effectiveness of your ghost energy but is also incredibly sharp, significantly increasing your killing power. It even has a special effect: it can absorb the blood of the wounded, albeit not very strongly. Nonetheless, it is exceptionally precious."

"Thank you, Miss Anlan! I’m heading back to the battle now!" Gimel quickly and respectfully took the treasured sword, turned, and headed toward the gorge, as if he couldn’t wait to rejoin the fray.

"This man, despite his grave injuries, is still preoccupied with the battlefield. Now this is an even purer warrior than the last!"

Subsequently, the blue crystal flickered intermittently, and one after another, chosen ones were teleported back. Each one was a pitiable sight, covered in scars and some even missing limbs. And yet, each one was incredibly indifferent to their plight, seeing life and death as trivial, their grievous wounds seemingly unnoticed.

"These are real warriors!" The ghost generals here were shocked and awestruck. "Who would have thought these chosen ones would be so desperate, whether out of loyalty or just for rewards."

Anlan was equally moved. "These people really have no fear of life or death!"

"Perhaps... it’s because of Mr. Edward!" The image of Alexander wearing a golden mask popped into her mind, and she began to daydream,

"These chosen ones must have been selected by King Ghost Edward; he must have already decided to side with me, so he picked these true warriors! It seems that Mr. Edward has indeed harbored feelings for me for some time now."

While Anlan was lost in her fantasies, the real warriors in her eyes were still in the hall, not in the gorge.

The hall was riddled with craters; gunsmoke filled the air, and shell casings and fragments littered the ground. Holding a rocket launcher, Gimel aimed at an empty space in the distance and pulled the trigger.

With a thunderous roar, a rocket shot out, exploding in mid-air. Boom! Shrapnel flew in all directions, and a cloud of bluish-black gunpowder smoke slowly wafted into the sky.

Not far away, another chosen one from Canada, gripping a heavy machine gun, fired away, the sound reverberating through the gorge.

"Deal the cards already!" Alexander’s anxious voice rang out.

"Three eights!" One of the chosen ones stood up, flinging his hand of cards onto the table.

"I only have a pair of sixes," another player muttered, shaking his head in resignation.

"Is it my turn yet? Is it my turn yet?" Dropping his rocket launcher, Gimel hurried over and picked up a hand of cards from the table.

He shouted at a nearby player: "Speak up! I couldn’t hear the sounds of battle from here when I left; it doesn’t capture the brutal nature of our struggle!"

"Understood!" Another player nodded, cranking up the volume on a nearby speaker. Instantly, a cacophony of battle cries and screams filled the air. When it came to combat, they were pros.

"That’s more like it!" Satisfied, Gimel turned back to the table and slammed his cards down, "I’ve got three aces!"

Beaming triumphantly, he strode up to Alexander and laid his hand out in front of him, "Boss, I won. Let’s get on with it!"

"What do you have in mind this time?" Alexander inquired.

"I want an arm chopped off, and a couple of slashes to the abdomen—bad enough to see intestines. Last time, Jobdo broke a leg and received a Shadow Cloak. I aim to get a better reward by taking a more severe injury," Gimel stated earnestly.

"No, that’s too much. Jobdo just broke a leg; he didn’t sever it. What if Anlan can’t heal you?"

"Don’t worry. Even if Anlan can’t, I have my own healing artifacts. You have to risk it to get the biscuit," Gimel declared, his eyes steadfast.

"Alright then."

Alexander nodded, raised a blade, and brought it down on Gimel’s shoulder. An arm fell to the ground, blood spurting wildly. Alexander then activated a ghost technique that numbed the nerves before slashing open Gimel’s abdomen.

Other chosen ones swarmed over, each with a role to play. Some tore at clothes, others smeared blood. Within moments, Gimel looked like a man on the verge of death.

Finally, Alexander placed a knife to Gimel’s throat and severed it with a swift strike. A burst of blue light illuminated the space, and Gimel was instantly teleported back in front of Anlan.

"I wonder what treasures Gimel will get this time. I didn’t look miserable enough last time; they only gave me a cloak," someone commented.

"Haha, that’s your own fault for not being ruthless enough. With Alexander’s ghost techniques, we don’t feel the pain anyway. Look at this—Tears of the Female Ghost—a real prize!"

"That’s nothing; the true treasures are with General Anlan and Prince HongMu! Check this out: Evil Ghost Codex! It speeds up the casting of ghost techniques, enhances their power by 30%, and even comes with rapid energy recovery!"

Voices of excitement filled the air among the chosen ones. This expedition under Alexander’s leadership had proven to be extraordinarily fruitful. Every return to the crystal yielded resources or treasures.

Although they had agreed to give Alexander a 30% commission, the remaining loot still left the chosen ones ecstatic.

In reality, they stumbled upon this situation unintentionally. Originally, they were planning to wait here for the ’Chosen Ones’ from Hurricane’s faction to join them.

However, as the waiting time stretched, Alexander worried that the members of the three factions might become suspicious. So, he decided to put on a theatrical display, simulating an intense battle.

Simulating combat was easy for them. These ’Chosen Ones’ were not newcomers to the horrifying world; they held important statuses in their respective countries.

Furthermore, their inventories contained more than just everyday clothing. Grenade launchers, rocket launchers, and other lethal weaponry were also abundant. Throw in a sound system and some gang-fight footage, and a gruesome battle scene was set.

The use of grenade launchers and rockets wasn’t solely for creating noise and smoke; another goal was to find a hidden object within the hall: the Abandoned Emperor Stone.

Alice had mentioned that while the stone was not as sturdy as imagined, it was the only thing that could threaten her.

Alexander didn’t have the patience to search for the stone bit by bit, risking exposure.

A barrage of rockets and explosives quickly reduced the hall to rubble, and Alexander successfully located what he was looking for: a black, indestructible box that required three keys to unlock.

But another issue struck him: there were no casualties. Over time, the absence of wounded would certainly arouse suspicion.

Ultimately, they decided to play a game of Texas Hold’em poker to pick some representatives to feign fatal injuries, triggering a protection mechanism that would teleport them to the Anlan camp.

Because of Alexander’s ghost technique, which could numb localized nerves, the chosen ones didn’t experience extreme pain. Surprisingly, those who pretended to be wounded were not only healed but also rewarded.

The situation escalated unpredictably. The Chosen Ones, who were initially planning to investigate what was happening on Hurricane’s side, decided to stay put and benefit from the Anlan and HongMu camps.

Of course, as the leader, Alexander orchestrated the whole affair, including this newfound method of profiting. Initially, they planned to give 90% of the acquired treasures to Alexander. But he declined, opting instead for just 30%.

To him, these "treasures" were rather ordinary; what truly interested him were the heirlooms and corpses of the three heirs.

The stakes were high. Every half hour, a general-level guard would be sent out—a total of fifty in one day from just one faction.

Combined, that’s 150 general-level ghosts in a single day!

What if the conflict lasted for two, three, four, or even five days? Alexander didn’t dare to ponder beyond that; after all, ghosts of that caliber were exceedingly rare.

However, even if the battle lasted only three to four days, that would mean the appearance of 500 to 600 general ghosts. Converting these ghosts into ’ghost food’ could result in a vast number of soldier-level ghosts advancing in rank back at the Fierce Ghost Association.