Chapter 40: Arrangements (Seeking Support for Official Release, Third Update)

Wang Liang was at a loss for words at Lu Chenghuang’s reaction. He had thought he would have to do some convincing, but before he could finish speaking, Lu Chenghuang had already made up his mind. Finding the situation a bit odd, Wang Liang promptly took out the ancient sacrificial meat incense he had prepared, all made during idle moments in his own world.

During that period, Wang Liang had processed all the spices he’d brought back from the previous world, packaging them into small pouches. Don’t underestimate these little packets—Wang Liang had calculated the quantity based on the grand sacrificial rites of ancient times. As long as there was no issue with the sacrificial animals on Lu Chenghuang’s side, this one packet would be more than sufficient.

Lu Chenghuang didn’t underestimate the value of the pouch. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, his expression subtly changing. Though he couldn’t discern the exact ingredients, he could sense that as he breathed in the aroma, his divine power stirred ever so slightly.

It was as though his divinity was signaling to him that this incense was immensely beneficial for his spirit.

Holding the packet, Lu Chenghuang couldn’t help but remark, “This is a treasure. I almost don’t want to use it for this offering.”

Seeing Lu Chenghuang’s reaction, Wang Liang chuckled and produced a few more packets. “These are homemade. One packet per use—please, take them.”

Lu Chenghuang, noticing the “Dragon King’s Mark” seal on the packaging, agreed with Wang Liang’s words, and his estimation of Wang Liang’s background rose yet again. Either Wang Liang was from some ancient and illustrious family, or his ancestors had produced emperors. Wasn’t there a saying from the Wei and Jin dynasties that the Ma and Wang families ruled the world together? Could it be…

The thought crossed his mind, and Lu Chenghuang’s gaze toward Wang Liang grew even more respectful. He resolved that this time, he must ensure the young master of the Wang family came and departed in good spirits.

Just then, the magistrate of Yanggu County arrived with his retinue. Noticing Lu Chenghuang’s presence, he hurried over to greet him.

Wang Liang excused himself politely, “I have preparations to make, so I’ll take my leave for now.”

Lu Chenghuang replied with equal courtesy, “Attend to your matters, my friend. Rest assured, this battle will proceed without mishap.”

Once Wang Liang had departed, Lu Chenghuang joined the magistrate. Without preamble, he said, “I’ve just investigated the situation. His status may be even higher than we thought, so we must proceed with extra caution.”

The magistrate blinked, instantly understanding that Wang Liang’s background exceeded their estimations.

“I understand. I’ll inform General Hua that we must proceed with utmost care this battle. Yanggu County cannot afford losses.”

“Exactly, our county cannot bear such a cost,” Lu Chenghuang affirmed, finding a suitable excuse. He resolved to keep a close watch on the battlefield to ensure Wang Liang would not suffer any harm.

Before long, the sun rose. The three squads of constables accompanying the magistrate struck their gongs, the resounding clangs reminiscent of the ceremonial gongs used to clear the way on Jingyang Ridge. These gongs were larger, and as they were struck, Wang Liang could see faint white ripples spreading outward.

With each beat, all the spirits and ghosts—including Lu Chenghuang himself—were suffused with a subtle white glow. This allowed them temporary freedom to move under the sun.

This, too, was within the magistrate’s authority, and the task was carried out by his constables. To maintain the spirits’ combat strength in broad daylight, the magistrate had to remain present, and the gongs had to be struck continuously.

Observing all this, Wang Liang marveled at the ingenious methods every world devised. If he hadn’t witnessed it himself, he would never have imagined there was a way for ghosts to operate in daylight.

As Wang Liang surveyed those around him, he noted that the assembling troops showed little reaction. Whether regular soldiers or ghostly ones, they were all accustomed to such proceedings.

Most of the regulars wore red armor, with yellow talisman papers tucked into their hands, waists, and legs—special gear clearly prepared for the coming battle. They formed the core of the army, stationed at the very center.

The ghostly soldiers required less elaborate measures, clad simply in heavy, somewhat antiquated armor. Their numbers were greater, divided into two parts: one contingent of three thousand, most with fish or shrimp heads, instantly recognizable as river troops from the Yellow River.

At their forefront lumbered massive turtles, like living tanks, upon whose backs fish-headed ghosts beat drums made from fish skin.

They were clearly the main force for this battle. After breakfast, they took up their position at the very front.

The other group, numbering over four thousand, had a more haphazard array of weapons and armor. Wang Liang noticed they comprised virtually every type of troop, making them the most disorganized unit. But on reflection, he realized this made sense—these spirits were the accumulated souls with potential, gathered by the city god over many years. With such ancient origins, it was only natural their armaments should be so mixed.

These four thousand were deployed on the flanks to protect the central forces from being overrun.

Volunteers, irregulars, and wandering swordsmen from various factions were stationed just ahead of the main body. In this way, when the aquatic ghost troops engaged the enemy, these fighters could quickly charge forward.

Wang Liang’s unit was also positioned here, and he realized his spot was exceptionally advantageous. Should he wish to attack, he could swiftly reach the frontlines. If he preferred to hold back, the aquatic ghosts could absorb most of the enemy’s assault, the miscellaneous troops at his flanks could quickly assist, and the central force behind could press forward as needed.

It was, in all respects, an ideal position for both offense and defense, with the sole drawback being a less convenient retreat. Wang Liang was quite pleased, boasting in his team channel, “See? Didn’t I pick a good spot?”

In truth, he was unaware that when he was assigned this position, even his most competitive companion had already conceded. This was a prime location. Had the battle unfolded according to his friend’s plan, as players, they would have been stuck with the supply troops at the rear, reaping nothing from the fight—nothing like now, where they could choose to attack or defend at will.

Not to mention, they had already reserved all the bosses for themselves.

Even his friend could only admit defeat, silently resolving that the next time he encountered Wang Liang, he’d give him a wide berth.