"At least we can confirm that the immortality the Lich promised to his followers is just a lie." Lancelot turned his head to look at the gang members, "Do you want to come over and check again?"
"No, no, we understand just by the smell." The few men replied in trepidation, "Well, gentlemen, you carry on with your work; we won't disturb you…"
As they spoke, they were about to walk out but were suddenly stopped by Lancelot's voice.
"Wait a minute." He pointed to the Orc's corpse on the bed, "Take care of your boss first."
"Find a place to bury him or just burn him." Little Isha added, "Olga's soul has already gone to the Lord of the Dead, she won't be revived at midnight anymore."
Despite their reluctance, the gang members knew who was in charge. They awkwardly carried the Orc's corpse out.
"Now, back to our previous conversation…" Lancelot returned his gaze to the freshly created corpse, "What does this mean? Does Peyton Derrick's mastery in magic surpass our expectations?"
