Chapter 54: Infernal Affairs

The swarming needles in the tomb chamber looked like a forged ribbon, within which seemed to swirl a pale blue mass. Though the blue cluster moved slowly, it somehow arrived beneath the divine altar almost simultaneously with the flying needles. Ma Junmei watched, secretly terrified. She could hardly imagine what would happen if her second sister used such hidden weapon techniques against her—she truly couldn’t think of any way to dodge.

Just then, a flash of swordlight flickered beneath the altar, followed by a tumultuous clatter. Every flying needle was knocked aside by the swordlight, scattering like mist, and then the humanoid stream of air swept its hand, palm thrust forward, and forcibly rebounded the blue cluster.

Zhang He and Zhong Shuman finally saw clearly: the blue cluster was actually a delicate cloth pouch, and anyone familiar with the mysteries of hidden weapons would instantly recognize it as a poison pouch.

The pouch rebounded into the crowd from Qianling Fort, detonating with a loud bang and releasing a vast cloud of blue-violet poisonous smoke. The heads of forty or fifty people simultaneously surged with poison damage values—not terribly high, but the sheer number was horrifying, proving that Second Sister’s formidable poison had not repelled the enemy, but instead harmed her own allies.

The humanoid stream of air’s stealth time expired, revealing itself as it dashed toward the Qianling Fort crowd. The sword in its hand swept out several icy flashes, its movements elusive. Mid-charge, the figure split into several phantoms; from afar, it appeared as if three people rushed forward together, making it impossible to discern the real body.

Zhong Shuman spoke coldly, “This is the Ghostly Palace’s martial arts—Phantom Shadow of the Ghost Martial. It can generate three clones; attack a false body, and the real one will deliver a fatal blow.”

Ma Junmei could barely hear Zhong Shuman’s words, just about to rush over when Zhang He grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

Ma Junmei was stunned. “Isn’t Second Sister your friend? Aren’t you going to help?”

“Wait.” Zhang He replied, his face grim. “Look over there.”

By now, the four or five people who had been at the rear of Ghostly Palace had already dispersed, each confronting the other three factions. Even Ma Junmei, who seldom pondered schemes, understood. As the BOSS neared demise, the issue of loot ownership became critical; no one wanted to fight so hard only for the spoils to belong to someone else. Thus, Ghostly Palace acted first, interfering with the other factions, ensuring that in the last ten percent of the BOSS’s health, their damage output would be highest, and according to the smart system’s rule of reward, the loot would belong to Ghostly Palace.

Ma Junmei and Hua Feihong felt chills run through their bodies. The world of martial artists was rife with intrigue and cunning so insidious it was impossible to guard against. Yet Ma Junmei couldn’t help herself: “Does he really think he can wipe out so many from Qianling Fort single-handedly? That seems unlikely.”

Zhang He said coolly, “But the fact that he dares to go alone means he’s no ordinary figure.”

As expected, Zhang He’s words rang true. Once the Ghost Martial Phantom Shadow was unleashed, the swordsman didn’t attack the front row of archers, but instead aimed his sword directly at a black-clad man in the third row, whose collar was edged with gold.

Hua Feihong sighed, realizing now that this person’s strength wasn’t enough to defeat ten at once, but rather to first kill Qianling Fort’s leader; once the leader fell, the team would naturally disband, forfeiting their claim.

The swordlight twisted in midair like a vortex. The black-clad man, though, did not panic; he unfastened the dagger at his waist, parried with a reverse grip, and a series of crisp clangs rang out. The Ghostly Palace expert retreated with a flip, forced back by his opponent.

Yet, as he flipped, his hand flicked out and released a volley of hidden weapons that struck the black-clad man’s shoulder. Only then did Zhang He and his companions see that the Ghostly Palace member had used Flying Locust Stones.

These hidden weapons were crafted from dark stones, shaped round, oval, triangular, and so on. They were heavy and not particularly lethal, but their advantage was stealth—they emitted no glint and were hard to detect. Masters from recognized sects disdained such underhanded methods.

Red damage values appeared:
“-133!”
“-137!”
“-130!”

A string of damage numbers flashed, and only then did the black-clad man show shock. Not only had his opponent prepared in advance, but their inner power was formidable—without reaching the Realm of Moistening, it would be impossible to wield Flying Locust Stones with such effect.

He hadn’t finished his calculation when the Ghostly Palace figure landed and rebounded into the air again, gliding across the chamber. Zhang He’s expression flickered; the movement style seemed closely akin to his own “Rippling Wave Crossing.”

In midair, the swordlight shimmered, and on close inspection, it wasn’t the glow that mattered, but the trembling sword tip, revealing multiple attack patterns. It was up to the black-clad man to defend.

Having suffered already, the black-clad man dared not relax, his raised dagger glowing faintly red, clearly imbued with martial arts skills, ready to meet the incoming strike with everything he had. His calculation was simple: the opponent’s ultimate aim was to seize the BOSS; with time and opportunity pressing, the attack would be swift and fierce. If the strike failed, all would be lost, so he resolved to block every assault.

The swordlight descended swiftly, but did not strike the black-clad man. Just before impact, a jet-black, gleaming sword tip burst from his chest, blood beads trailing from it, all pitch black, proof that the blade was poisoned.

Critical hit: "-262!"

That stroke signaled the dissolution of Qianling Fort’s team.

The black-clad man had calculated well, but no matter his cunning, he hadn’t foreseen this. His face contorted, turning slowly with a look of shock and terror—he couldn’t believe he’d been betrayed from behind.

But he saw clearly: his betrayer was—Second Sister!

“You…” He never finished his sentence, seemingly wanting to say, “You’re one of us from Qianling Fort; how could you strike me?”

Yet it shouldn’t have been hard to imagine; every faction has its traitors.

Second Sister yanked her short sword free. The black-clad man’s corpse crashed to the ground, and at that moment, the Qianling Fort crowd plunged into chaos. Amid the turmoil, several flashes of swordlight covered Second Sister as she darted toward the northern group of Ghostly Palace members.

Ma Junmei and Hua Feihong were dumbstruck, unable to fathom such a twist.

Zhang He suddenly laughed, prompting Zhong Shuman to ask, “You don’t seem surprised?”

Indeed, Zhang He was not surprised. Only as the black-clad man fell did he finally see: the Ghostly Palace expert was none other than the previously routed Mad Eater of the World.

If not for the subtle mole at the corner of Mad Eater’s eye, even Zhang He might not have recognized him. Although Mad Eater wore black clothes, his features couldn’t be concealed, and Zhang He’s keen eye caught the small detail.

Zhong Shuman came to a realization as well. Second Sister had long been an undercover agent for Ghostly Palace within Qianling Fort. Previously, she’d asked Zhang He’s group to help her stage a scene; it appeared they’d wiped out Ghostly Palace’s reinforcements, likely easing the black-clad man’s suspicions. At the crucial moment, she played the double agent and succeeded.

Of course, these were only conjectures, but regardless, as a hero, Zhong Shuman had witnessed her share of intrigue, yet never had she encountered a traitor like Second Sister, leaving her in awe.

Yet, things rarely go as expected. Second Sister, escaping under Mad Eater’s cover, had just reached the altar when suddenly light blazed behind it. Dozens of sword shadows descended, netting the area. Everyone present recognized the powerful Shushan sword art—the Myriad Sword Technique!

Zhong Shuman was finally shocked. She couldn’t understand why Hua Feihong attacked Second Sister, but the reason quickly became clear: her own chivalry value had dropped by five points. The logic was simple—they, as righteous warriors, had previously slain Mad Eater and his ilk in the tomb, which the system counted as upholding justice.

But by assisting Second Sister in the staged scene, and with Second Sister still in Zhang He’s party, her betrayal was now counted by the system as aiding evil. For Zhang He, a freelance adventurer, it was negligible; for Zhong Shuman, a hero, it was a minor concern. But for Hua Feihong and Ma Junmei, it was dire—their chivalry value dropped, and their sect’s reputation suffered.

Especially for Hua Feihong, disciple of the Seven Saints of Shushan, who couldn’t even guess how many auxiliary attributes she’d lost—her anger flared and she resolved to strike Second Sister down.

Sword shadows poured like rain. However skilled Mad Eater was, he couldn’t withstand such force, and though he parried desperately, several sword shadows left him bleeding profusely.

Hua Feihong raised both index fingers toward the sky, signaling a second wave of sword shadows. Now everyone could see that this second Myriad Sword Technique would surely claim Mad Eater and Second Sister.

Compared to practitioners of the mysterious arts, the righteous martial arts always possessed fierce and overwhelming force—a frontal, broad, and deep assault. Even mid-tier Shaolin or Wudang techniques were hard-pressed to withstand the Shushan Myriad Sword Technique.

Yet the second wave never came, for at that moment, the black mist above the tomb chamber emitted an eerie hissing. The BOSS’s health bar vanished, the mist quickly dissipated, and rain began to fall—coins, silver, gold, medicines, equipment, materials—everything in all sorts, a veritable “rain.”

Everyone now knew the BOSS had dropped loot. The sound of the bounty was music to every Dynasty player’s ears. Suddenly, a hundred pairs of eyes brightened as, amidst the rain, a beautifully carved treasure box appeared.

“The Deer Cutting Blade!” Ma Junmei cried.

She needn’t have called out; everyone in the chamber saw the quest item. Yet their hearts sank, for the nearest people to the altar were Second Sister and Mad Eater. Like a wildcat, Mad Eater darted forward and seized the treasure box.

Everything unfolded as Zhang He had predicted: the BOSS’s loot belonged to Ghostly Palace.