Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World Chapter 484 Unexpected Situation

In the grand tapestry of the universe, there were countless paths to power—innurable systems that mortals, immortals, and everything in between used to claw toward the peak.

Mages, witches, wizards, shamanic bloodlines, aura warriors, elental hosts, spiritual refiners, ntalists, summoners...

Each path was different.

So shallow, others deep. So weak but easy, others vast but treacherous. So born of nature, so from science, and others from sheer will or divine inheritance.

But among them all... Dao Cultivation remained one of the most endless.

Not just in scale—but in truth.

And Li Yang ca from one of the most ancient and powerful of such realms—the Xuanyan Great World.

It was not sothing a realm like Aurora could compare to.

No.

Aurora was new.

A baby clawing at the edges of power.

Had it not been for the backbone of technology, the First Awakeners, and the handful of early cultivators who sohow bridged the gap, this world would’ve already beco a vassal to a greater one.

Realms were not peaceful neighbors.

They were greedy.

Wars between them were not uncommon.

Power systems clashed. Races clashed. Resources were stolen.

It wasn’t always hatred—sotis the reason was simple.

Civilization didn’t grow through fairness.

It expanded by force.

Li Yang was not so second-rate rogue cultivator.

He had been a true Dao Path cultivator at the Golden Core Stage, already touching the edge of Nascent Soul.

He had lived over three hundred years....and during those centuries, he had done more than cultivate.

He had learned.

He was not unique in that.

All cultivators who reached the Golden Core Stage—at least in a true cultivation world—shared a similar depth of knowledge. It wasn’t a gift; it was a consequence of age. Of longevity. Of having lived long enough to see a lot.

The only exceptions were the supre geniuses. Monsters born once every few generations, who broke through realms like they were nothing, racing from Foundation to Nascent Soul in re decades. They didn’t have ti to learn because they didn’t need to. Power ca to them as if the universe itself were handing out favors.

Or there were the Heaven’s Children—not always cultivators. They were simply fated.

Those ones didn’t cultivate in the traditional sense.

They didn’t ditate for decades or temper their bodies in spirit fire.

They killed.

Every ti they destroyed an enemy, they grew stronger. Their path was one of slaughter.

If it wasn’t that at so point, they no longer needed to only kill to gain power, they would have been killed from young just to prevent calamity.

Li Yang had fought one.

They were truly favoured children of the heavens.

In any case, it was Li Yang vast knowledge that made him realize just how abnormal his current situation was.

The chain in his spirit...

And the coffin he sat in...

And that was when he understood sothing else.

"...I’m not in Xuanyan," he said softly.

It wasn’t just the air. Not just the energy. It was the summoning thod itself. The techniques used. The unnatural interface that flashed briefly in the void of his vision when the bond was ford.

Everything about it scread of foreign systems.

Li Yang’s eyes slowly swept across his surroundings—this new world, this new realm.

Alien.

Foreign.

Yet—undeniably rich in power.

But he wasn’t deceived by comfort.

Not even for a second.

He didn’t care about the air, the energy, or the so-called summoner who stood nearby. What mattered was the chain inside him.

It was crude, shallow... and temporary.

"...Surface-level refinent and use of such a powerful tool," Li Yang muttered, sneering under his breath. "Tch. You’ve pulled across realms and dared to bind ... but you don’t even know what you’re holding."

A flash of killing intent flared in him..

He wasn’t here to be so corpse soldier on command.

He wasn’t a tool.

He had ruled as a King in the Netherworld, even while dead. This bond—this summoning—was nothing.

If the youth had thought he’d summoned a mindless beast, he was wrong.

Li Yang had no intention of obeying.

He turned inward, tracing the spiritual chain. It was like soone had tried to place a leash on a dragon using straw rope.

"Foolish," he thought.

Then, with centuries of experience behind him, Li Yang began to attempt breaking the chain. It would only take a few seconds at most.

In the gap of that ti when his summoner did not command him, he casted a body protection spell on himself.

Michael’s gaze narrowed as he studied the new undead.

Sothing about this one was... different.

It reminded him of Spartan.

No—more than Spartan. This thing radiated a certain presence.

Michael extended his senses through the bond he shared with the [Damaged Coffin of the Forgotten] to see if there was anything wrong with this undead when suddenly—

—Ping.

Michael’s body stiffened.

[Warning: Summoned undead is attempting to sever control link.]

His eyes snapped to the creature.

The undead—this so-called Evil Cultivator—was already weaving sothing around itself. Thin, silver lines of energy, so faint they were almost invisible, spiraled around its form, wrapping around its spirit like armor.

"...A self-cast spell?" Michael muttered, his expression darkening.

He could see the intent bleeding through the bond. This wasn’t just so random energy circulation. No, this was precise, deliberate—like it was actively trying to cut through the coffin’s connection.

Michael clenched his jaw.

Undead weren’t supposed to do that.

A low pulse traveled through the coffin again, almost as if warning him that the link would snap if he didn’t reinforce it.

Michael’s mana surged reflexively, flooding the chain to strengthen it.

"Not on my watch," he growled inwardly, pushing his control tighter.

But as he did, he felt sothing strange. The undead wasn’t fighting with brute force—

It was unraveling the bond from within, as if it understood the chanism of the summoning itself.

Michael’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

"...You’re not just intelligent. You know what you’re doing, don’t you?"

For the first ti, he considered the possibility that this undead wasn’t like his others—not a hollow shell of mories, but sothing with its own history.

The spell it was casting flared briefly—a protective layer of energy fused into its dead flesh, as if to shield its body and spirit.

Michael’s grip on the coffin tightened.

He would have to decide, right now, whether to tighten control further—or risk letting this thing see how much freedom it could take.

He chose none and commanded the coffin to undo the summoning.

However—

"It’s not working?"