Falsely Accused, I Started Plundering Monster Traits

What the hell?

Lin Yan slowed as another rotter near the edge of the intersection turned toward him.

They hadn’t even made that much noise. The group farther ahead was smashing steel against steel hard enough to carry through half the street, yet the dead were starting to peel away from them instead.

And more were noticing.

The intersection was packed with rotters—a platoon’s worth at least, maybe more where the fog swallowed the side streets. Unlike the civilians they’d run into earlier, most of these looked like soldiers. Swords, spears, axes, shields—almost every corpse was carrying something, and scraps of mail or plate covered most of them. A handful were sealed in armor from head to toe.

Marcus stared at the crowd shifting toward them.

"Boss, that’s a lot."

"No shit."

Another corpse turned. Then two more behind it.

Marcus tightened his grip on the rifle. "Maybe we should back off."

Lin Yan watched the nearest rotter coming down the street. "No need."

"Boss, there have to be forty of them. Even if they stood still and let us kill them, that’d take a while."

Lin Yan glanced at him, then reached up and pulled the sling of his rifle over his head. The second gun followed. He handed both to Marcus, unbuckled the loaded chest rig from around his torso, and dropped that into Marcus’s arms as well.

"Hold these."

Marcus looked down at the pile of gear, then back at him.

Lin Yan drew the knife from his belt.

"And don’t shoot."

The nearest rotter had been shambling toward them with its sword hanging at its side. The moment Lin Yan stepped forward, its posture changed.

It rushed him.

The sudden burst might have caught an ordinary person off guard.

To Lin Yan, it looked slow.

He stepped inside the swing before the blade could come around, flipped the tactical knife into a reverse grip, and cut across the corpse’s neck in one hard motion. The blade tore through flesh and bone, and the head spun away as the body carried itself another step before collapsing.

Lin Yan slid the knife back into its sheath, bent down, and took the dead man’s sword.

The next rotter leveled a spear and thrust.

The point had barely crossed half the distance when Lin Yan’s sword came down. The shaft split with a crack, the severed spearhead spinning away, and before the rotter had even finished the thrust, the return swing took its head off.

"Boss, beh—"

Lin Yan turned with the sword.

The blade swept around with his body and struck the rotter behind him at the shoulder, cutting diagonally through its torso in one continuous stroke. By the time the two halves hit the street, he was already facing the crowd again.

An axe came up from his left. Lin Yan brought the sword down before it reached shoulder height, taking both hands off at the wrists, then kept moving as the weapon dropped between them. Another rotter pushed in behind it with a shield raised. He swung straight into the shield and sent the corpse spinning sideways into the two beside it.

The collision opened a gap.

Lin Yan went through it.

A sword flashed toward his face from the fog. He was already past the wielder before the cut reached him, his own blade sweeping across its waist as he passed. The upper half of the corpse slid away behind him while another stepped into its place.

Then another.

Marcus never finished the warning. He just stared.

Several bodies away, Lin Yan hacked through another rotter. The sword snapped halfway down the blade as it tore through the corpse, and when he turned with the swing, his gaze happened to sweep across Marcus.

A rotter was closing in beside him, its sword already beginning to rise.

Marcus hadn’t noticed.

Lin Yan whipped what remained of the sword across the intersection.

It struck the rotter in the side of the head like a cannon shot. Half its skull collapsed inward, and the corpse was ripped off its feet before crashing onto the pavement beside Marcus.

Marcus flinched and finally snapped out of it.

"What the fuck..."

Lin Yan had already turned back to the crowd.

By the time Marcus looked again, he’d picked up another sword and disappeared several bodies deep into the mass of rotters.

From this distance, the killing looked almost effortless. Lin Yan never seemed to reset or recover. One swing carried him into the next, his body turning and shifting through the crowd while the dead struggled to keep up.

Sometimes a body didn’t fall until he was already past it.

Then another dropped.

And another.

The street behind him began to fill with pieces. Heads rolled between armored boots. Severed arms landed with weapons still clenched in their hands. One corpse folded across the waist, while another spun sideways into the dead beside it after a cut tore through its shoulder.

From where Marcus stood, Lin Yan moved through the crowd like a tiger through dense undergrowth, never breaking stride no matter what rose in front of him.

Holy shit. Boss could actually use a sword? That was way too fucking smooth.

A rotter in full plate stepped into Lin Yan’s path.

He swung without slowing.

CLANG!

The impact rang through the intersection and echoed off the buildings around them. The armored rotter was knocked sideways and crashed onto the pavement, while half of Lin Yan’s sword went spinning into the fog.

He looked at what remained in his hand.

Again?

Another rotter rushed him from the side. Lin Yan barely looked at it before whipping the broken sword from his hand. The chunk of steel crossed the few meters between them like a shot and smashed into its face, bursting half its skull apart and throwing the body backward into the fog.

Behind him, metal scraped against stone.

The armored rotter was already pushing itself back to its feet.

Lin Yan turned back to it.

Screw it.

He walked over and punched it in the visor.

The faceplate caved inward with a deafening crunch, and the rotter was hurled backward again, its armor hammering against the street several yards away.

Lin Yan flexed his fingers.

That’s tough.

No wonder a proper suit of plate had cost a fortune. No wonder nobles had been the ones wearing it. In a world of swords and spears, wrapping yourself head to toe in steel really did make you king of the battlefield.

Then one gauntleted hand pressed against the ground.

The rotter started pushing itself up again.

Right. Zombie rules.

Lin Yan walked over and stomped on the ruined helmet. Steel folded inward with a wet crunch, and this time the body went still.

Lin Yan picked up another sword and turned back to the rest.

What remained of the crowd didn’t last long. He kept moving through the fog, and the rotters kept falling behind him until, one by one, there was nothing left standing.

When Lin Yan finally stopped in the middle of the intersection, the sword in his hand was bent near the middle.

He let it drop.

The street went quiet.

Across the intersection, the older knight had finished as well, three armored rotters lying at his feet.

None of them were looking at the dead anymore.

All six were staring across an intersection littered with bodies and broken weapons, at Lin Yan standing alone in the middle of it.

The Saintess stood between the knights, pale hair showing beneath her hood, her cold eyes fixed on him.

"He’s very good with a sword."

The older knight said nothing.

His eyes moved over the bent and broken blades scattered across the street, then returned to Lin Yan.

After a long moment, he finally spoke.

"...That’s not swordsmanship."

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