The Martial God Becomes a Necromancer and Conquers the Tower - Chapter 53

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 53
53
“Hmm. Let me sort through some things.”
I lay back on the bed and began turning over various ideas in my mind.
Two main tasks emerged from my thoughts.
First, make Heukmousang stronger as a Jiangshi than he is now.
Second, strengthen the other Undead by turning them into Puppeteer Jiangshi.
Creating Jiangshi in the first place isn’t particularly difficult.
I just need to pour Necromantic Power into them and circulate it through the Corpse Spirit Heavenly Rigidity Unification Art method, settling it into their Dantian.
This process itself had already been verified with Experimental Jiangshi Number One.
But the real problem lay elsewhere.
“The limit on how many Puppeteer Jiangshi I can control is fourteen right now.”
Walking corpses can be controlled without limit thanks to the dignity of the Corpse Lord, but starting with Puppeteer Jiangshi, there’s a cap on how many I can dominate.
When I hit level thirty, the limit did increase, but fourteen was still the maximum.
And what happens if I include Bilalat in that count?
“Adding Bilalat would cut it down to thirteen.”
Bilalat is ultimately one of my Servants, consuming a portion of my control capacity.
The share he takes up is no small thing.
On top of that, making each Puppeteer Jiangshi takes a fair amount of time.
“So the conclusion is clear.”
Before the next broadcast, I need to convert all the Undead I can control into Puppeteer Jiangshi and simultaneously research and complete the Jiangshi Grand Method.
That’s a mountain of work.
This wasn’t something I could squeeze in between broadcasts.
“Alright. I’ll have to take a few days off from streaming.”
I immediately manipulated the broadcast system.
[Notice: Corpse Spirit Sage taking a few days off. Jiangshi Enhancement in progress.]
Posting it this cleanly put my mind at ease.
Well, who’s going to complain if a Clear Path Hunter takes a few days off?
“Alright then. Let’s start by researching the Jiangshi Grand Method.”
Inside the secret manual I’d beaten out of that Necromantic Army commander were instructions for both the Jiangshi Grand Method and the Jiangshi-Specific Elixir Refinement Art, and my first goal was to recreate them here in Reality.
* * *
The next day.
The moment I woke up, I got to work.
“Shi Ha-rin.”
I called my secretary and gave her orders.
“Buy the entire building where the martial arts dojo is located.”
“The entire building, you say?”
“That’s right. And clear out everything except the first floor. Pay off the tenants and the building owner generously to get them to vacate.”
I planned to keep the convenience store on the first floor.
The convenience store was a critical supply hub for late-night beer and fried chicken runs—I couldn’t touch it.
“What about the convenience store?”
“The convenience store operates on a monthly lease and has a separate landlord, so it’s possible, isn’t it? Leave the first-floor convenience store as is and clear out everything else.”
When the convenience store eventually moves out, I’ll set up my own in its place.
With money like this, anything becomes possible.
A personal convenience store.
That would be killer.
“Understood. I’ll handle it.”
Shi Ha-rin nodded without hesitation.
She really was efficient when it came to getting things done.
“And order the materials needed for the Jiangshi Grand Method via express delivery. I’ll read you the list, so take it down.”
I rattled off the materials for the Jiangshi Grand Method from memory.
Cinnabar, Obsidian, Mercury, and various other medicinal herbs and ingredients—I called them out one by one.
Never thought I’d actually use what I’d memorized in my past life.
As Shi Ha-rin was writing it all down, she suddenly looked up and asked.
“Lord, what exactly are you planning to do with all these materials?”
“Ah, I’m planning to do some Jiangshi enhancement.”
“Alchemy?”
“Elixir Refinement.”
“Elixir Refinement. Understood. I’ll note that down.”
Shi Ha-rin’s expression flickered with surprise.
“Among Chinese-affiliated hunters, it’s a technique from the Elixir Refinement Craftsman job held by crafting-class hunters. I’ve confirmed this.”
“What? There’s a job called Elixir Refinement Craftsman?”
This time, it was my turn to be surprised.
I’d spent all my time watching close-range combat footage, so the crafting side was completely foreign to me.
“Yes. Alchemy and Elixir Refinement are the crafting-class jobs that divide East and West. The Western approach is classified as Alchemy, the Eastern approach as Elixir Refinement.”
“Ah, I see.”
This was actually useful information I hadn’t expected.
“So is there a job that uses Jiangshi like I do?”
“Currently, there is no such data in the database.”
“No Jiangshi specialist, then.”
That makes sense—a Jiangshi practitioner couldn’t be common.
“I do know there are Spell-Casters, though….”
“Yes. There are multiple types of Spell-Caster jobs in existence.”
“And there are hunters who use martial arts.”
“Yes. There are also multiple types of Martial Arts User jobs.”
“So really, I should have awakened as a Martial Arts User hunter….”
The more I thought about it, the more I regretted it, clicking my tongue.
A man who’d been a martial god in his previous life, awakening as a Necromancer in this one—what a ridiculous turn of fate.
“Tch. Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now. An Elixir Refinement Craftsman, huh….”
“If it would be difficult for you to do it yourself, sir, I would recommend acquiring a Secondary Job. Alternatively, you could commission a hunter with the Elixir Refinement Craftsman job.”
“Commission? Up on the 5th Floor?”
“Yes.”
The 5th Floor.
The 5th Floor of the tower is a common area.
Once you ascend there, you can meet other hunters and interact with them.
Since marketplace transactions incur fees, I’d heard that direct trading is also active on the 5th Floor.
Supposedly some hunters even set up their own workshops there and live permanently.
“Hmm. Or maybe I should try to get a Secondary Job instead.”
All hunters can have one Primary Job and two Secondary Jobs.
The problem was that those two Secondary Jobs could only be obtained through Special Quests.
“The thing is, the maps where those quests appear are random, so it takes a while….”
“Yes. Since the maps where Special Quests appear are randomly generated, acquisition is difficult. Moreover, you cannot know in advance which Secondary Job you will obtain.”
“That’s random too?”
“Yes. It is random.”
“This tower’s as bad as a rigged gacha machine!!”
Not only is it unclear whether the job I want will show up, but the maps are random too.
What kind of double gacha is this? This insane tower.
If it’s like this, it’d be better just to do it myself.
“Rather than hunting down an Elixir Refinement Craftsman, I’ll just handle it myself.”
I have knowledge from my past life anyway, so there’s no reason to commission someone else.
“Shi Ha-rin. Order the materials and the moment you purchase the entire building, set up an Elixir Refinement Chamber on the 4th Floor. Handle it that way.”
“An Elixir Refinement Chamber, you say?”
“Yes. Spare no expense—just get it done quickly.”
“Understood.”
Shi Ha-rin bowed and immediately set about the task.
Right.
Now I was taking the first step toward manufacturing a Jiangshi army.
* * *
It took exactly one day to clear out the residents and complete the construction.
With money flowing freely, the workers poured in and handled it at incredible speed.
Is this what the power of capitalism looks like?
“Elixir Refinement Chamber… complete.”
The Elixir Refinement Chamber wasn’t anything grand, really.
Just several medicinal heating devices installed, and three bathtub-like vessels large enough for a person to lie in—that was all there was to it.
Of course, even calling them “medicinal heating devices” didn’t mean the traditional kind.
Don’t imagine a cauldron hanging over a fire pit with wood burning underneath.
These were state-of-the-art Compression Heating Devices.
In my past life, I’d simmered medicinal ingredients over a hearth fire, but in this world, there were machines that adjusted temperature and pressure with a single button. How convenient could it possibly be?
The marvels of civilization truly are magnificent.
However.
“The crucial ingredient is missing.”
The most important material was absent.
Spirit Herb, to be exact.
What is Spirit Herb?
It refers to medicinal materials saturated with the essence of heaven and earth.
In my past life, things like Thousand-Year Ginseng fell into that category.
The Jiangshi Grand Method’s recipe cannot work without this Spirit Herb.
The problem was that Thousand-Year Ginseng and its ilk would never be found lying around on present-day Earth. The Dimensional Tower didn’t have such things either.
How in the world do these Elixir Refinement Craftsmen make their potions?
“Then I need to find a substitute. Hmm… that should work.”
There was a reason my past-life self earned the title of Martial Sage.
Without the ability to improvise, I’d never have claimed that name.
I recalled an item that could serve as Spirit Herb’s replacement.
“Mandrake.”
A material that drops above the 100th Floor of the Tower—prohibitively expensive.
Why so costly?
Because Alchemists craft medicines from it and smuggle them out to Reality to sell.
Demand is insane, so prices skyrocket without restraint.
“Now that I think about it, people did mention drug prices were brutal.”
The Replica Elixir, known as a cure-all.
Not even the genuine article, but a degraded knockoff—yet only Alchemists who’ve climbed above the 50th Floor can produce it.
A single vial goes for over 50 billion won.
The price point comes from how difficult it is to make and its reputation as a panacea.
There are plenty of other expensive products too.
The best-sellers among Alchemists in the 300s are the Elixir of Youth.
One bottle makes you one year younger, but it only works up to ten bottles—after that, no amount helps.
One bottle costs 5 billion won.
Cheap by some standards, expensive by others.
Production isn’t that difficult, so the price sits there.
Apparently the key ingredient is a Mandrake aged a hundred years?
“Well, I won’t use materials that expensive.”
It’s not like I’m making a true rejuvenation elixir—this is just an experiment.
There’s nothing quite like wasting money if I use expensive materials and the recipe fails.
“A Five-Year-Old Mandrake should suffice.”
So I bought a Five-Year-Old Mandrake for 300 million won.
300 million is a fortune by ordinary standards.
For someone earning 150 million a day like me, it was roughly two days’ revenue.
“Experimental compound ready.”
I loaded the materials into the Compression Heating Device and activated it, producing a blood-red elixir.
Wisps of ominous energy coiled upward—visually, it looked anything but healthy.
Well, this is medicine for creating Jiangshi, not something for humans to drink.
“Heukmousang. In.”
At my command, Heukmousang let out a long, drawn-out groan and settled into the bath.
I began funneling Necromantic Power into Heukmousang.
In Reality, the output was pitiful.
Inside the Tower it would pour forth like a torrent; here in Reality it dribbled like a faucet with low pressure.
But though the quantity was limited, I could draw on it indefinitely.
The Necron Ossuary’s effect carried over into Reality just the same.
I was in the midst of channeling Necromantic Power, letting the elixir’s potency seep into Heukmousang’s body, when a thought struck me.
A sudden realization cut through my concentration.
“Wait. If the Necron Ossuary works the same way here… couldn’t I stockpile Necromantic Power in Reality too?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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