Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World Chapter 500: Contemplation

Michael studied the spear in silence, letting his eyes trace every line of its runes and the subtle shimr of its crystalline blade.

The longer he looked, the more certain he beca of one thing—this weapon was imnsely powerful. And though he had no solid proof, his instincts told him it could probably be wielded effectively even at Rank 3.

But power wasn’t the only thing on his mind.

A thought tugged at the edge of his curiosity.

Could the spear, like his undead, be enhanced further through the use of extraordinary materials during evolution?

It was a question without an easy answer. Unlike the undead, which—while technically not alive—were still biological creatures, the spear was... well, just a thing. An object. tal and magic. Whether the rules of evolution would apply to sothing like this was uncertain at best.

Not that he could test it now, even if he wanted to.

He didn’t possess a single extraordinary-grade material that seed remotely suitable for the weapon. More importantly, he didn’t have enough Evolution Points to trigger another upgrade.

The next rank was One-Star Epic Grade, and if the spear followed the sa five-tis multiplier as his other evolutions, that ant he’d need close to 3,200 points. That was no small sum.

With his current accumulation rate, it would take him roughly a month to reach that amount. If he filled all of his remaining contract slots with new undead, perhaps he could halve that ti—two weeks to evolve either one of his minions or the spear itself to Epic Grade.

But even then, there was the risk.

Michael had seen firsthand how using materials during evolution could lead to drastically different outcos. Lucky and Prince were pri examples—both had started as the sa base creature, yet ended up as entirely different beings due to the materials he’d used during Lucky’s transformation.

So far, none of the results had been bad... but that didn’t an it couldn’t happen.

He suspected that if a material was perfectly suited for the evolution target, the results would be nothing short of spectacular. If not... well, he didn’t want to imagine turning a prized weapon into sothing less useful—or worse, uncontrollable.

Letting the thought drift away for now, Michael exhaled slowly.

With a final glance, he willed it back into his Soul Space.

After completing his task, Michael fell silent, his thoughts swirling in the quiet.

For a mont, he simply sat there, weighing an idea that had been nagging at the back of his mind.

Eventually, he spoke.

"Jester... can you check if I have a spirit root?"

It was a question that had been itching to escape his lips for so ti. If his race were still ordinary human, he wouldn’t have bothered—Jester had already told him that people born with spirit roots were rare. Exceptionally rare. But things were different.

He was no longer just human.

As a High Human—a race that seed almost woven with nature—Michael couldn’t help but wonder if that closeness ca with certain advantages.

Did High Humans have a higher chance of possessing spirit roots? Could his very existence now be tied to sothing more than raw stats and evolution points?

Jester, with his unnervingly sharp mind, didn’t imdiately answer. His intelligence had long since surpassed the level of re calculation; it could mimic emotions, inject tone, and react in ways eerily human.

When he finally responded, it was with a sound Michael could only interpret as mild surprise—a soft, thoughtful hum, as though the request had caught him off guard.

Still, he didn’t question it. Without pressing for Michael’s reasons, Jester moved to carry out the command.

A few monts later, Jester’s voice ca, calm yet edged with sothing Michael rarely heard from him—genuine intrigue.

"No," Jester said at last. "You don’t have a spirit root."

Michael’s brow furrowed slightly, but before he could speak, Jester continued, his tone almost reverent.

"But..." There was a pause, the faintest flicker of disbelief bleeding into his words. "Your body, Master... its structure is unlike anything I could have thought of. In the cultivation world, there are what we call special physiques—rare, innate constitutions that grant their owners extraordinary advantages. So can accelerate cultivation speed. Others allow one to command elents effortlessly. And a few... are built to contain unimaginable power."

Jester’s voice dipped lower, almost as if speaking to himself. "Your physique reminds of the latter category. The very bones and ridians of your body are arranged in a way that seems designed to store and circulate energy far beyond the limits of what soone your power level could have. If I were to compare... I’d say it could contain an ocean where others hold a pond."

Michael stayed silent, listening.

"This isn’t just capacity," Jester went on, his tone sharpening with focus. "The fibers of your muscles, the density of your bones, even the resonance of your organs—they’re tuned to endure and channel forces that would destroy lesser beings. In theory, your body could house divine strength itself, and not crumble under it."

Michael raised a brow.

Jester observations were quite spot on.

And all this was from just a brief glance.

He was starting to doubt Li Yang, the original owner of jester mory, was this smart.

"Also, in theory, it’s hard to say you lack a spirit root though."

"In theory?"

"Yes," Jester admitted. "Because while you don’t possess a true spirit root, your physical nature acts like a pseudo one. The connection isn’t perfect—you won’t be able to truly cultivate as a cultivator does. You lack the natural anchor that allows one to draw in and refine spiritual energy in the traditional sense. But the frawork is there."

He paused, and Michael could almost picture him tilting his ’head’(it didn’t have one ), in thought. "Because almost every cultivation thod is rooted in nature’s laws... your body can make use of certain techniques and arts from that world, especially those not strictly tied to a spirit root. In essence, your physique is a bridge—limited, yes, but still a bridge—between two completely different power systems."

Michael crossed his arms, letting the weight of Jester’s words settle in.

A pseudo spirit root. A body capable of being a bridge between two different power systems.