The Necromancer and Super Cemetery

Under the influence of the North Sea monsoon, winters in Langton are bitterly cold. A light snowfall had settled during the day, and by nightfall, the crimson moon hung in the sky, casting a faint, eerie red hue over the snow.

Two kilometers away, the dim glow of gas lamps barely illuminated downtown Langton. A worn-out black carriage clattered hastily along the road. Inside, the smell of cow dung permeated the cramped space. Xu Mu lay motionless. Not by choice—he couldn't move a muscle, even if he wanted to. He could only feel the rough jolt of the carriage beneath him, the sharp stench surrounding him, and a stabbing pain in his chest, as though something had pierced through his heart. Yet, his consciousness persisted, an odd sensation given the gravity of his injury.

Just an hour ago, Xu Mu had crossed over into this world, a mix of nervousness and excitement as fragments of the body's former owner's memories flooded his mind. Before he could make sense of them, a knife had plunged into his chest.

Stunned, Xu Mu could only think, Is this really happening? Did I just die right after crossing over?

But as minutes passed, he noticed something peculiar—despite the knife wound in his heart, he wasn't dead. The pain was real, yet it seemed to be fading.

"Why… am I not dead yet?" Xu Mu's mind raced, panic growing as questions swirled. But to any outside observer, he was no more than a freshly deceased corpse.

The carriage trundled along steadily. Two figures in black cotton coats rode up front, conversing in hushed voices.

"Master Les, we've failed again. This is the third time. Could it be that the summoning array was drawn incorrectly?" The driver spoke cautiously, his voice tinged with unease.

"Impossible!" Les snapped, his tone resolute, even verging on hysteria. "The blueprint was given to me by the priest himself—there's no chance it was wrong!"

The driver, too fearful to argue, flicked the reins, urging the horses to quicken their pace.

Summoning array? Xu Mu's mind filled with questions. Who are these people? Why did they kill me?

Yet, bound by his unresponsive body, all he could do was listen in helpless silence, hoping for some miraculous escape or, perhaps, for death to finally claim him.

Eventually, the carriage came to a halt. The two men in black jumped down and, after a brief glance around, dragged Xu Mu's limp body from the carriage. They dumped him behind a small mound by the roadside and turned back to their seats without even bothering to bury him.

The location was desolate, a mass grave steeped in cold gloom. Ghosts flitted about, their pale forms barely visible under the dim light of the crimson moon.

"This summoning was a disaster. We've wasted precious materials and now there's a dead body to deal with," Les muttered as he climbed back onto the carriage.

"True," the driver agreed hesitantly. "But… Green was a Wilson. If he suddenly disappears—"

Les cut him off with a sharp glare. "A Wilson? Why didn't you mention that earlier? Damn it! How many times have I told you not to mess with noble families!"

The driver, Old Bill, fumbled for words, mumbling excuses under Les' fierce gaze. But eventually, Les waved him off. "Forget it. He's dead now, no use worrying. Let's get back to the city before we encounter any… strange things."

As the carriage rolled away, Xu Mu was left lying on the cold, hard ground. Strangely, though his body was paralyzed, he could faintly feel the icy snow against his cheek.

The realization gave him a jolt of hope, though the pain in his chest still burned. Time passed slowly as he lay there, struggling to make sense of his condition. A strange, cold energy seemed to spread from his heart, weak but growing.

Memories surged within him, fragments of another life—Green Wilson, the destitute son of a noble family, living as a lowly servant in Langton City. A distant relative of the affluent Wilson family, he had been drawn into a dangerous cult, dabbling in forbidden undead magic in hopes of gaining power and reviving his fallen family.

It seemed, however, that Green's ambition had led to his downfall. His ignorance had made him an unwitting sacrifice in a failed summoning ritual, and now Xu Mu found himself in his place, possessing his body.

Yet something about the ritual had worked. Though it hadn't summoned the evil god as intended, it had brought Xu Mu's consciousness into this world instead.

As he lay there, Xu Mu began to grasp the enormity of his situation. This was a world where steam engines and cannons coexisted with magic and the supernatural. Magicians wielded dangerous powers, witches mingled at aristocratic gatherings, and knights traded their swords for rifles infused with mystical energy.

The chill of the night deepened, the wind howling around him. Xu Mu endured, waiting for his body to recover. To his surprise, the knife wound in his chest began to heal, the pain subsiding bit by bit. He couldn't move yet, but sensation was returning to his limbs. Slowly, he regained control of his fingers and toes.

At least I'm not dead, he thought, the grim humor of his situation bringing a faint smirk to his lips.

After what seemed like an eternity, Xu Mu finally managed to sit up, gasping from the effort. His body felt cold, but oddly not frozen. His heart was beating—slowly, but surely. As he examined his chest, he found that the wound had closed entirely, though the skin was paler than the rest of him.

"I'm… alive." Relief flooded through him, though his body still felt strange. His pulse was sluggish, and he was uncomfortably aware of how cold his surroundings were, though he didn't seem to be suffering from the chill.

This isn't right, he thought. Am I… becoming a lich?

Piecing together the memories of Green Wilson's undead studies, Xu Mu realized that the summoning ritual had left him in a half-dead, half-living state. The residual magic in Green's heart had kept him from dying but had also begun to transform him.

Snowflakes drifted down around him as Xu Mu stood on unsteady legs, gazing toward the distant lights of Langton City. The crimson moon cast its strange glow over the landscape, and he shivered—not from cold, but from the unsettling realization of what he had become.

With a determined breath, he began to make his way back to the city. He had been given a second chance at life, strange as it was, and he wasn't about to waste it.