This time was probably no exception.
All the players instantly got fired up like they’d been injected with chicken blood. They snatched up tables, chairs, benches, knives, spears, swords, and halberds. Those without weapons rushed over to borrow from the NPCs sprawled on the ground.
Of course, a few more level-headed players in the group chat voiced some doubts.
Sichuan Pepper Little Bunny said, “What’s the deal with this Peacock Manor? Did the dungeon just jump straight from normal difficulty to nightmare mode?”
The glaring red “Nightmare” label on the game interface was downright terrifying, like something out of a horror game next door. The recommended level was way above what most players here could handle. Could they really clear this?
Salty Fish King pondered for a moment before agreeing. “Normally, games don’t set dungeon difficulties that much higher than the players’ levels. There’s got to be some trick to this battle.”
No matter how hard they racked their brains, though, they couldn’t figure out what it was.
Amid their back-and-forth, the command group’s players swiftly arranged their formation.
With every campaign they fought, their experience in organizing group battles grew, and the coordination between players became smoother. Their love for swarm tactics never got old.
Arrows filled the sky. Some arrowheads were coated in a sinister purple liquid, while others burned with crimson flames.
When it came to arson and murder, the Demonic Sects had maxed out those skills. They never skimped on poison or fire. Almost every arrow that landed sent a player crumpling to the ground, either poisoned or set ablaze, vanishing seconds later.
Another player would dart in with lightning reflexes to fill the gap in the formation. They knew that winning this group battle against the boss hinged on Ruan Xuezong. In the developers’ design, he was just an ordinary flesh-and-blood mortal. Any injury would cripple his combat ability.
With the players shielding him, the fire and poison arrows were blocked before they could reach Ruan Xuezong. The Sweeping Old Man stepped forward too, lending him a hand.
He couldn’t stand idly by while the Demonic Sects rampaged. Standing firm, he unleashed a surging palm force that sent out a domineering invisible blast of energy. It swept through like raging ocean waves, halting the arrows in their tracks.
The players slapped their foreheads in realization. “Almost forgot! The official patch sent us a super-strong support NPC for this dungeon!”
This kind of support setup wasn’t unfamiliar in dungeon battles. Some games dispatched an NPC to team up with players, one tied closely to the main storyline—either as someone to protect or a comrade-in-arms fighting side by side.
“Brothers, we’ve got this in the bag!” In the battlefield photographer’s footage, one player let out three booming laughs. The cheers around him tapered off, only for him to trail into an awkward silence as he noticed something seriously wrong.
The players handling close-quarters combat inside Peacock Manor were dwindling. From over a thousand at the start, down to four or five hundred, then three hundred… Those who died and respawned at the revival point never returned. What the hell was going on!?
Without the “sea” in swarm tactics, what kind of tactic was it even?
The players were collectively stunned. Shouts erupted from the depths of their souls: Reinforcements! Our reinforcements—did you guys get lost at the foot of the mountain?
The scene shifted to the base of Yanghe Mountain, where storm clouds blotted out the moon.
Those respawning players hadn’t gotten lost or gone AFK. With so many deaths, the golden array was packed tight, everyone scrambling for a sip of Biluo Huangquan Water.
They didn’t dawdle, though. Once they emerged from the golden array, the players beelined for the battlefield—only to run smack into a massive roadblock!
Fires blazed atop Yanghe Mountain. Torchlight stretched like coiling dragons, illuminating the entire night. Every path leading up to Peacock Manor was swarming with Demonic Sect grunts, guarded airtight.
One player bolted back in a panic, waving a map as he spilled the latest intel. “We’re screwed! All seven uphill routes—abcdefg—got flanked. Not just tons of black-clad goons, but also traps, poison arrow arrays. We can’t get through!”
“There’s a boss-level figure on the west side too. Looks like level 35.”
To put it bluntly, the entire Yanghe Mountain had turned into a battlefield.
“Holy crap, the Demonic Sects boxed us in at the base and cut off our reinforcements!”
“I wanna kowtow to the devs. These NPC AIs are too smart. No wonder it’s a level 35 nightmare difficulty! Aren’t we supposed to win with that half-step grandmaster support?”
Some players kept pressing. “What about the southeast route?”
The southeast had another peak neighboring Yanghe Mountain, linked by an iron-chain suspension bridge at the cliff’s edge. Down below churned a black river. The downside? The bridge was rickety from years of neglect, swaying precariously on its chains—and some players were terrified of heights.
“Southeast’s uncharted. Haven’t scouted it yet.”
“Alright, time to rework the plan.” The player who spoke was Bloody Baron, a famous bigshot from the game forums’ strategy group. He pulled out a map of Yanghe Mountain, scribbled with dense red, black, and blue markings detailing “Demonic grunt numbers,” “black-clad levels,” and “trap positions.” One glance screamed pro-level prep!
Bloody Baron commanded, “We’ve got eight teams total on the field. Send one to scout the southeast. The rest harass and distract across the seven points—keep the Demonic forces from linking up. If we break through, we force our way up the mountain.”
“Got it, Captain!”
The players saluted and moved out.
The first squad had the most numbers and strongest players, since they were gearing up for the dungeon’s first boss: the Life-Death Sect’s Right Protector.
The Right Protector was named Yin Tianli, twin brother to Yin Wuxu and one of Rain Flower Godlord’s right-hand men. Tasked with holding the mountain pass, he sneered down at the ragtag bunch of low-level scrubs. A bunch of nobodies. Easy as crushing ants.
And that’s exactly what he did.
“Don’t move, or I’ll snap his neck.” He snatched a shrieking player and clamped a hand around the man’s throat, taking him hostage. Just as Yin Tianli expected, the mob halted, cowed into submission.
Yin Tianli smirked, hoisting the hostage high amid the crowd’s weird mix of shock and faint hope—before crushing his neck with ruthless force.
He figured this display of dominance and icy cruelty would cow them. Fat chance. The players didn’t bat an eye. That hopeful glint in their eyes vanished, replaced by blank stares that chilled into indifference.
Disappointed murmurs rose here and there. “What a letdown. This NPC doesn’t drop a title?”
“Lame. As Life-Death Sect’s Right Protector, couldn’t you learn from your bro? He at least gave us that ‘Palm Quality’ special title. You? Nada.”
Yin Tianli: ???
Ever since childhood, Yin Tianli had one major sore spot: being compared to his brother. With a cold snort, he spat, “My brother’s corpse went cold ages ago. Our sect lord turned it into gu poison. If you miss him so much, I’ll send you all to hell to keep him company.”
He thought this would terrify the noobs. Instead, they inexplicably flew into a rage.
“You jerks should’ve said so sooner! So it was Life-Death Sect who stole Yin Wuxu’s body! Do you know how hard we players worked? We turned Jiangnan City upside down digging for him just to farm that special title!”
Yin Tianli: ???
What the hell were these lunatics babbling about? Not a word made sense.
Worse, they seemed to have waited for him to kill one just to charge. Yin Tianli had no fear of these ants, but they proved way stickier than expected, circling him like it was a game.
“Everyone, copy me! Boss has high HP and no ranged attacks—keep circling to dodge his ults. Grind him down with stamina and willpower!”
“Down 1.7% HP! It’s working! Charge!”
“Someone get in here—spin circle time!”
These suicidal ants swarmed and weaved around him. Yin Tianli’s fury boiled over, and the bizarre melee erupted.
…
Meanwhile, Ruan Xuezong realized the players were in deep trouble.
Seeing his grave expression, Du Rulan actually chuckled. “Ruan Xuezong, you’re nothing like those mediocre fools. Sharp instincts.”
Ruan Xuezong frowned while dodging poison arrows. “Did you send men to trap them?”
“Guilty as charged.” Du Rulan arched a lazy brow. “After the Clear Wind Fishing Ground fiasco, I realized your rabble wasn’t pushover material. Fearless as legendary dead men, low skill but endlessly respawning—eerie as hell. So I came prepared.”
As he spoke, Du Rulan’s fingers danced idly over the qin strings. That familiar, seductive melody echoed through Peacock Manor once more, laced with gu poison. Countless guests bled from their mouths and noses, convulsing on the ground. Ruan Xuezong resisted the toxin but was still bogged down by the encirclement.
A miscalculation, it seemed.
Ruan Xuezong sighed. All wasn’t lost, though.
He pulled up the full map and spotted a familiar player at the mountain’s base, fresh from respawn, glancing around to get his bearings.
Ruan Xuezong’s eyes narrowed. Five-Colored Mottled Black. You’re the one.
Five-Colored Mottled Black was indeed orienting himself. The game’s graphics were top-tier, maxed out at five stars in his review, with every blade of grass hyper-realistic. The pitch-black night made directions a nightmare, so he scanned left and right.
Before he pinned down the uphill route, a quest popped up in his interface.
【Rare Quest Triggered: “Search for Reinforcements”】
【Brief: Demonic Sect numbers overwhelm us. Yanghe Mountain is a battlefield, Peacock Manor wails in chaos, and Ruan Xuezong struggles alone. He remembers an ally—young hero, take this token to Head Constable Zheng of Jinling City’s Six Gates and rally support!】
【Rewards: 3000 EXP, +10 Ruan Xuezong Favorability, +10 Head Constable Zheng & Six Gates Favorability】
【Limit: 1 Player】
Holy crap—a solo ultra-rare quest! It was like pie in the sky. Five-Colored Mottled Black read it over, breath catching. “Am I the legendary luck king?”
