Chapter Thirty-Three: Breaking Through the Siege

Yan Shiyu, just like Hua Xiangrong, felt a sharp pain in her chest, and then her entire body went limp as she collapsed to the ground. To her horror, she realized that her opponent had crippled nearly 260 points of her constitution with a single handful of copper coins.

"Help! Someone, help! Someone has stolen the Elder's Blood Parrot Flower!" Yan Shiyu lay prone on the ground, desperately shouting.

Another few streaks of rainbow light descended into the courtyard as three or four Tang Sect disciples hurried over, followed by a hall master. At this moment, Zhang He was like a mouse carrying a burning ember dashing into the Tang Fortress, a powder keg with abundant stores. A single pebble had stirred up a thousand waves. If the earlier ambush by Da Niu and his companions had shaken the Tang Sect, then now Zhang He had thrown the entire Tang Fortress into chaos.

On Aoki Bridge, Waterdream received word, and his pupils constricted instantly. He realized he had been utterly deceived. The four in the river had set traps and run circles, acting a play just for him. Their purpose was to lure the tiger from its mountain and deliberately court death, while the real force had long planned to strike the pill house.

Only now did Waterdream break out in a cold sweat, not just from shock but from deep frustration. Seeing the enemy snatch the fake goods, he had let his guard down, thinking that no matter how bold they were, they would never dare storm the Tang Fortress.

But he couldn’t really be blamed. Anyone who has gained an advantage or seen their cunning plan succeed inevitably relaxes their vigilance and becomes careless and arrogant.

Rather than say Waterdream overthought things, it would be more accurate to say Zhang He was flexible and daring.

In truth, he was certainly brave enough, but his skill wasn’t quite so high.

A crowd of Tang Sect players shouted and rushed forward. Zhang He wouldn’t dare fight them, so he secretly activated his internal energy, then charged toward the flower bed in the corner. With a tap of his toes on an azalea, he vaulted into the air, bounding several times through the flower beds, tracing a drifting arc at high speed toward the wall top.

His lightness skill, "Song-Stepping," had become familiar to him through recent hard practice. When using "Song-Stepping," one cannot leap into empty air; there must be a foothold, and it cannot be liquid water, only solid matter. Due to his mediocre movement skill, the gap between footholds could not exceed five meters, though as his skill improved, that distance would increase—leaping ten meters would become possible.

Moreover, after using it, he couldn’t jump onto places that were too high; otherwise, if he fell, his movement skill couldn’t maintain his balance, inevitably causing damage to his constitution.

"Song-Stepping" has the advantage that it doesn’t dash in a straight line like "Grass-Leaping" or "Water-Gliding," but follows an S-shaped path. At mastery, the S-shaped steps accelerate in frequency, so the Tang Sect disciples’ hidden weapons almost all missed. Occasionally, a few small arrows struck Zhang He, forcing him to swallow some "Just Kidding" pills for dear life.

Its disadvantage is that the required level and internal energy are quite low, so it doesn’t last long. But for most Tang Sect disciples, who lacked lightness skills, it was enough. Under their stunned gaze, Zhang He took a few swift steps and flew up to the wall, then leaped down to escape.

"Ahhh! Catch the thief, catch the thief!"

"A flying thief! The flying thief! He’s running east, to the east! He’s poisoned, he won’t get far!"

"Damn it, Four-Eyes, what are you staring at? Go after him!"

"I’ll go get a ladder, the wall’s too high, I can’t climb up!"

"You idiot!"

...

Tang Sect players shouted, the courtyard thundered with cries.

If Da Niu and his companions were still alive, they would surely be awestruck by Zhang He. He hadn’t run toward the peach grove or into the wilds, because with his current overall strength, no matter how far he ran he’d eventually be caught by the skilled hall masters.

After jumping down from the wall, Zhang He didn’t run at all. Instead, he raised his copper coins and sword, shouting wildly, "I’m running! The flying thief’s on the roof! The flying thief’s on the roof! Heading to the Five-Poison Pool! Oh damn, the flying thief, damn it!"

As he uttered the last phrase, he smashed the copper coins he’d prepared in advance hard against the blade of his Frostblade Sword, creating a crisp metallic clang. Everyone in the courtyard was confused. He struck several times, making it sound like weapons clashing in battle. Finally, Zhang He let out a tragic cry, "Damn it!" and rolled deep into the grass, then lay motionless—playing dead!

Not a single Tang Sect player failed to fall for the trick. If Zhang He had shouted any other location, he wouldn’t have fooled anyone. Earlier that night, Da Niu’s map had marked all the nearby places around Tang Fortress, and Zhang He had committed them to memory, never expecting they’d be so useful at a critical moment. He was truly a superb actor.

The moment he lay down to play dead, several Tang Sect hall masters vaulted over the wall. Had he been a few seconds late, he would have been exposed. Then a flood of Tang Sect disciples poured in from the main gate. Given the urgency and seriousness of the situation, no one paid attention to the life or death of this fake disciple.

Once the main force had passed, Zhang He quickly rose and darted fox-like toward Aoki Bridge. This was the true repetition of an old trick; even the highly skilled Waterdream would never expect the enemy to appear at Aoki Bridge for the third time. At that moment, Waterdream was using advanced lightness skill "Eight-Step Cicada-Chase," skimming along the wall above the Five-Poison Pool, where there was not a trace of a flying thief.

There was no one by Aoki Bridge now. Zhang He took a deep breath and leapt into the river, swimming to his previous hiding spot. Thank heavens, the arrow boat was still beneath the hidden rocks—the place where Da Niu’s group had met their end, now, twenty minutes later, reversing to become Zhang He’s lifeline. Fate is truly uncanny.

The arrow boat slipped silently downriver. After ten minutes of smooth sailing, the PK safety timer was up. Zhang He took out a town-return scroll, but just before activating it, he remembered something and quickly checked his status bar. At this, young Zhang could only slap his thigh in dismay—his evil value had shot up to fifteen!

He never imagined that infiltrating a sect like Tang to steal an item would earn him so much evil value from the system.

It wasn’t terribly high—not enough for bronze-ranked constables to come hunt him down—but compared to his four points of chivalry, the ratio was glaring. There was no way he could return to Horseback Town, since the constables there would immediately target him. If Tang Sect was notified, all his hard work would be for nothing, and he’d become a fish on the chopping block.

"Damn it!" Zhang He cursed. This game, just like real life, made doing something right hard, but escaping after doing something wrong even harder.

However, Zhang He had always been fiercely masculine and refused to bow his head or give up easily.

"If I die, at least it won’t be within the Tang Fortress boundaries," Zhang He gritted his teeth, steeling himself, and piloted the boat toward the peach grove. That area was likely swarming with Tang Sect disciples returning after searching for Da Niu’s group, but it was the fastest shortcut out of Tang Fortress territory.

Knowing there are tigers on the mountain but heading there anyway, Zhang He stood tall at the bow, sword held before his chest. The river wind, mixed with thick fog, whipped past him, and his gaze grew ever sharper and more resolute. No matter how perilous the road ahead, no matter how numerous the enemies, with his sword and his courage, he would clear all obstacles and sweep away all injustice.

Though he’d cunningly obtained the Blood Parrot Flower, the final bloody battle to break out was unavoidable.

In the cold mist at the peach grove’s edge, figures had appeared. Zhang He let out a ringing cry, used "Song-Stepping" to leap from the arrow boat, hurled a handful of copper coins, and followed with a thrust of his sword.

The figure clearly hadn’t expected anyone to attack from the river, and with the heavy fog, was caught off guard and struck by a dart. The Frostblade Sword pierced his throat, and the figure collapsed with a scream—a Tang Sect disciple.

But there were clearly more than just one disciple in the woods. Shouts erupted from all sides. Without hesitation, Zhang He took precautions, popping several "Just Kidding" pills into his mouth, activating his lightness skill to dart into the grove. Wherever there was a sound, he hurled hidden weapons, copper coins flying as if they cost nothing, followed by sword flashes and blood splatters.

These were all first-turn Tang Sect disciples who had failed in the peach grove. Zhang He’s major skills were more than enough to deal with them. Yet, there were so many, and the poor visibility made the woods a storm of hidden weapons, with the Frostblade Sword’s shadow spinning wildly through the air, blood spraying everywhere.

Relying on his "Just Kidding" pills, Zhang He forced his way through. Regardless of who it was, man or woman, he stabbed anyone he met, slashed anyone who blocked him, every move deadly, every blow aimed to kill. Bodies littered the peach grove, blood soaked the trees.

Even the burly seven-foot men, fierce and imposing, were intimidated by Zhang He’s reckless ferocity. Even the cute, delicate female players who shrank back in fear received no mercy—Zhang He would pierce their throats without hesitation. Anyone who blocked his path, he would fight them to the death.

The once desolate, cold mist of the peach grove was transformed by Zhang He’s thunderous charge into a bloody dance of thorns, blades, and sword light:

"With three feet of merciless sword in hand, my spirit soars to the heavens;
The strong should yield to me, as blood and wind turn to drifting smoke;
Amid sword shadows, the world’s distance grows, though peril fills hearts and paths;
When clouds break and skies open, and roads seem lost, the hero dares to forge ahead..."

After a long time, deep in the peach grove, silence reigned. The entire forest was shrouded in a heavy, blood-red mist. Corpses lay sprawled everywhere, Zhang He’s armor was in tatters, his face smeared with blood and grime like a cinnabar opera mask. Though his body was covered in wounds, his stats nearly depleted, and his heavy breathing threatened to make him vomit, Zhang He’s gaze remained resolute. He gritted his teeth, leaning on his sword, limping determinedly toward the direction of the Nether Mountain.

He had already sent carrier pigeons to the four companions who had returned, each note bearing only one phrase: "The job is done. Five of hearts!"

Writing alone inevitably has flaws, so bugs and errors are unavoidable. I welcome everyone’s corrections. I should mention that this book follows a logic of reasonable fantasy, not random encounters and endless divine artifacts. Even luck is earned through the protagonist’s wisdom and effort. Lastly, as always, I ask for your votes and support!