I'm The Only Necromancer In This Cultivation World-Chapter 39: Ashen

In a place like this, causing trouble in the open would bring unwanted attention. Guards would arrive within moments, and the entire district would light up. If he wanted to finish this cleanly, he needed access to one of those private rooms.

His fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table.

Brute force wasn’t an option, not here.

He scanned the restaurant again. Servers moved back and forth carrying trays of food. A pair of guards stood near the VIP corridor, pretending to be decorations while watching everyone who passed. Guests laughed, drank, and talked business, unaware of how close death already was.

Aiden took a small sip of his tea.

So, the problem is simple.

How do I get inside?

His gaze drifted toward the kitchen entrance, then to the servers, then back to the guarded hallway. His mind began sorting through possibilities, weighing risks and timing.

This was a rich man’s playground.

Which meant there were always back doors.

Aiden finally made his move.

He rose from his seat and walked toward the VIP corridor, keeping his steps casual. The moment he drew close, one of the guards shifted in front of him.

"VIP area," the man said flatly. "Authorized guests only."

Aiden gave a polite nod and turned away without argument. No point pushing it. He already expected that answer.

Instead, he headed toward the rear of the restaurant.

The farther he went, the quieter it became. The laughter and music faded behind him, replaced by the dull clatter of dishes and the muffled shouts of cooks. He slipped past stacked crates and wine barrels until he reached the back passage.

Just as he thought, no guards.

Only a narrow service corridor and a single wooden door that led straight into the kitchen.

Aiden paused in the shadows.

Then, with a thought, he summoned his two basic-grade undead.

A faint chill rippled through the air. The figures materialized beside him, already dressed in simple leather armor, their faces hidden beneath hoods and masks. To anyone else, they would look like ordinary fighter.

Only Aiden knew what they really were.

"Go," he whispered.

The two moved toward the kitchen door. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

They pushed it open and walked straight inside.

A few seconds passed.

Then the shouting started.

"What the hell, who are you?!"

A tray crashed to the floor. Pots clanged. Someone screamed.

Perfect.

While the kitchen erupted into chaos, Aiden slipped farther into the alley and summoned Bone Fist and Skullbreaker.

The air grew heavy as the two bronze-grade undead emerged beside him. Bone Fist rolled his shoulders, knuckles cracking softly. Skullbreaker rested his spiked club against the ground, silent and unmoving.

Aiden didn’t speak out loud.

He gave the order in his mind.

Second floor. Now.

Both undead moved at once.

They sprinted toward the restaurant wall, leaped, and kicked off the stone with terrifying force. Their bodies rose like shadows, fingers catching the edge of an open window above. With smooth, practiced motion, they hauled themselves up and vanished inside.

From below, Aiden could already hear the disturbance spreading, panicked voices from the kitchen, confused shouts from the dining hall.

Guests were starting to stand.

Guards were being pulled away.

Exactly as planned.

Aiden remained in the alley, hood pulled low, watching the second-floor windows.

The bait had been thrown.

Now it was time for the real hunters to work.

Aiden closed his eyes.

Mana flowed quietly through his veins as he activated Undead Sight.

For a brief moment, the world went dark.

Then his vision snapped back into place, only now, he was seeing through Bone Fist’s eyes.

The view was sharper, colder. Colors felt muted, as if the world had been drained of warmth. Bone Fist stood in a narrow corridor on the second floor, dim lantern light casting long shadows across polished wooden floors. Ahead, guests were spilling out of private rooms, shouting in confusion as guards rushed past toward the stairwell.

Aiden inhaled slowly, steadying himself.

So this is what my undead sees...

He couldn’t control Bone Fist’s movements directly, and he certainly couldn’t guide every punch or step. All he could do was give general directions, where to go, who to target. The rest depended on the undead themselves.

But that was enough.

He didn’t need finesse.

He just needed eyes.

Through Bone Fist’s vision, Aiden scanned the corridor. Silk curtains swayed beside open doors. Expensive carpets muffled hurried footsteps. A pair of guards ran past, heading downstairs, completely unaware of the danger behind them.

Good. The distraction is working.

"Move forward," Aiden commanded silently.

Bone Fist obeyed, advancing down the hallway with heavy, deliberate steps. Skullbreaker followed just behind, his spiked club resting on one shoulder.

At the far end of the corridor, Bone Fist turned a corner.

There.

Aiden’s gaze locked onto a guarded VIP room.

Two men stood outside the door. One wore light armor and carried a short blade, the bodyguard. His posture was stiff, alert, the stance of someone who had trained his body through tempering. The other was a servant, trembling as he tried to calm the guests inside.

Behind that door, Aiden could feel it.

That was his target.

"So that’s where you’re hiding," Aiden murmured under his breath.

He sent the command immediately.

Take out the guard. Then the man inside.

Bone Fist and Skullbreaker moved.

They didn’t rush blindly. Bone Fist stepped forward first, drawing attention. The bodyguard noticed him at once and reached for his weapon.

"Hey—who are—"

He never finished the sentence.

Skullbreaker came from the side, his club whistling through the air. The bodyguard barely managed to raise his blade before Bone Fist’s fist crashed into his ribs. The impact echoed down the corridor.

Aiden watched it all through Bone Fist’s eyes.

He didn’t need to micromanage the fight.

He only needed to see.

And now that he had eyes on the target...

The rest was just a matter of letting his undead do what they were made to do.

Inside the VIP room, the air was thick with incense and expensive wine.

The target sat comfortably on a cushioned chair, a half-empty cup in his hand, laughing with the man across from him. They had been in the middle of discussing business when shouting suddenly echoed from the hallway.