Durin recalled the memories in his mind, compared them slightly, and basically confirmed that this fungus was called Blood Mushroom. It specifically grew near gravestones and was an edible type of fungus.
However, because this fungus grew in cemeteries, many people considered it inauspicious. They believed that consuming it would bring bad luck and entanglement with ghosts.
Furthermore, this fungus had to be boiled in water for an hour to be edible; not a second less, otherwise, it would produce hallucinogenic effects.
There had been multiple incidents in Piltover where people mistakenly ate Blood Mushrooms and then ran naked in the streets.
If Durin remembered correctly, a sack of these fungi might not even fetch 5 copper circle coins in the market, and no one would be willing to buy them.
Worthless stuff!
A waste of time. Better get to business.
So, Durin continued to explore forward.
After a short while, Durin, who was moving forward, stopped. He saw a dark shadow staggering back and forth not far away.
Found you!
First target, here I come!
A strong stench of decay wafted over with the breeze. The so-called corpse smell was more like mixing half a bucket of rotten crayfish with half a bucket of fish guts and other animal organs collected from the market, then putting a lid on it.
If you let it sit for a few days in a normal environment at 39 degrees Celsius in summer, the first whiff you get when you open the lid is it.
Smelling the lingering stench of decay at his nostrils, Durin frowned, but he couldn't help but feel a little nervous inside. This was his first time facing a zombie.
Durin, having been exposed to various Eastern and Western cultures, knew that zombie claws carried corpse poison.
Moreover, he had also heard the necromancer he previously served mention that if a normal zombified zombie scratched an ordinary person, that person would experience festering wounds within 3 hours, and their body temperature would rapidly rise within 5 hours, accompanied by severe coughing up of blood.
Once 8 hours passed, the injured person would enter a state of shock, and their internal organs would begin to fail.
After 12 hours, the injured person could be declared dead.
Therefore, Durin's entire body tensed up. He stared intently at the zombie pacing back and forth in his sight, which was about three or four meters away from him.
It dragged its crippled leg, its swollen left arm dangled, and its right palm was already covered in maggots.
It looked like it had been dead for more than two months; its organs and decaying flesh hung from its skeleton, and its skin could no longer be distinguished by its original color, only a thick layer of dust and mud.
A normal corpse, buried in the ground for over a hundred days after death, would only leave behind a skeleton.
Unless you were from a wealthy family, and immediately after death, someone applied top-grade embalming fluid all over your body and injected enough embalming fluid into your chest cavity.
And also ensured the airtightness of the coffin, not allowing even a tiny bit of outside air to enter.
But this was Piltover Public Cemetery; everyone here was a commoner. Where would they get so much money to apply embalming fluid to the deceased's exterior and inject it into their body?
These internal and external measures would cost an astronomical sum.
Durin jogged towards the zombie, his palm gripping the spiked mace sweating slightly, his heart pounding violently. Durin felt his breathing become somewhat rapid.
Two meters, one meter.
…Now!
Durin swung with swift speed, the spiked mace directly smashing towards the zombie's neck, carrying a strong gust of wind.
Bang!
Feeling the commotion Durin made, the zombie turned its head somewhat blankly. Immediately after, it saw the gleaming spiked mace arc through the air and violently smash into its neck.
Crack!
The sound of bones breaking followed.
"Roar…"
The zombie wanted to let out a bestial roar, but its neck was destroyed by the iron spike, which easily tore through its flabby rotten flesh, causing its entire head to dangle limply from its broken neck.
The zombie fell to the ground.
Durin raised the spiked mace in his hand and swung it repeatedly at the zombie's skull. With a series of thuds, the flabby rotten flesh splattered outwards under the immense force, and this long-dead zombie could only twitch incessantly on the ground.
Puddles of juice mixed with blood were left on the ground.
[One-Handed Weapon +3, Current Proficiency: 93/100]
[Running +2, Current Proficiency: 67/75]
Only after confirming that the zombie could no longer move did Durin slightly gasp for breath, calming his rapidly beating heart, and then slowly walked deeper into the cemetery to search for the remaining two zombies.
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