Chapter 45: Song at the Hongmen Banquet

Having accepted such an important mission, Five-Colored Mottled Black naturally didn’t dare waste any time. He immediately circulated his lightness skill and raced toward Jinling City.

The city was alive with its night market. The dynasty imposed no curfew, so the streets teemed with jostling crowds and carriages flowing like rush-hour traffic. Lanterns draped every avenue, turning the place into a riot of color and light—like a thousand fireworks exploding under the night breeze, silver blossoms blazing against the dark sky, and shimmering jade turning one endless whirl of revelry. The scene fit those old Earth poems to perfection.

Six Gates stood right there amid the bustle, rubbing shoulders with ordinary folk.

When Five-Colored Mottled Black finally arrived, he found the place deserted and eerily quiet. The bailiffs who usually scowled at everyone seemed to have wandered off for fun, leaving just two low-ranking constables on watch—and they were chatting idly.

At least someone was around!

Five-Colored Mottled Black caught his breath. He’d been chugging inner force pills and sprinting with lightness skill nonstop; sweat poured off him, and exhaustion clawed at his limbs.

The two constables, baffled by his state, helped him to a seat. “Young hero, what brings you to Six Gates at this hour?”

Panting hard, Five-Colored Mottled Black said, “I’m here on Zongzong’s orders to seek Head Constable Zheng’s aid. Fetch someone quick! It’s a major case. I’m afraid if I spell it out, you’ll panic.”

The pair exchanged a glance.

One asked, “Young hero, who’s this ‘Zongzong’? Man or woman? What’s their tie to our Head Constable Zheng?”

The other folded his arms. “Young hero, Six Gates doesn’t scare easy. But heads-up: petty stuff like harassing decent women, night-market pickpocketing, or street brawls? Not our beat.”

He figured no random wandering swordsman barging in at midnight was hauling some epic rivers-and-lakes saga. More like chicken theft or dog-napping.

Five-Colored Mottled Black nearly coughed up blood. “Zongzong is Ruan Xuezong! He’s tangled in another huge case—a bloodbath rocking the martial world! Qu Tianwei of Peacock Manor colluded with the Demonic Sects for a Hongmen Banquet. Guests are trapped up the mountain by the dozens—”

The constables sucked in sharp breaths. “Heart Washing Manor’s Lord Ruan!”

“No wonder Jinling’s been so quiet lately. All those blade-packing rivers-and-lakes types vanished, and folks dared hit the streets with stalls. He’s stuck at that banquet.”

“Big case for sure. Go notify Head Constable Zheng!”

Meanwhile, at the base of Yanghe Mountain, the first player squad was locked in a fierce duel with boss Yin Tianli!

As Life-Death Sect’s Right Protector, Yin Tianli packed serious power. He wielded two ultimate moves. The first, Black Gu Poison: he raised a hand, and swarms of bugs and ants erupted from the ground at his feet, charging the players. One nip, and you’d spin into dizziness with health draining nonstop.

Spotting the bugs’ terror, players hit the dirt, rolling to evade. The strategy team cracked it fast: “Predictable paths, red-circle zones—step out of the red, you’re good.”

Physician players raided their bags: “Brewed insect-repellent powder. Dust yourselves—one minute bug-free!”

It worked like a charm. The boss’s swarms shriveled on contact. Yin Tianli’s eyes blazed red at his prized gu bugs’ failure. He unleashed his second ultimate: Frenzied Bloodbath. A conical blast of blade qi exploded outward from him in all directions.

That qi shredded anything it touched—a direct hit wiped a player’s health bar clean, dropping them dead or dying.

The massive red warning glow made players jump. Bloody Baron barked, “Stay cool! Lightness skill up, airborne evades. Double-jump dicey; triple’s solid.” He demoed it, soaring skyward on lightness skill and threading the needle through wave after wave of qi. Players followed, bounding through the air like acrobats.

“Hahaha, thank fuck for lightness skill!”

“Flowing Moon Remnant Fragrance—god-tier forever!”

“Dinged 2.7% more HP. Boss is raging hard.”

As Yin Tianli’s health bar bled lower, real fury gripped him—these ants had pushed him too far. His face twisted in rage, spiderweb veins crawled across his eyeballs, his aura sank into a heavy pressure, and he slipped into some uncanny state, sleeves whipping without a breeze.

Players yelled, “Crap, berserk phase incoming!”

Bloody Baron: “Hold the line! Ride out berserk, victory’s ours!”

Berserk was boss rage mode: defenses crashed, damage spiked—doubled, even. But it guzzled stamina. Survive, and you’d hit “exhaustion,” turning the boss into easy prey.

Raging bosses went full murder mode, carving a brutal path.

Yin Tianli, though, kept a sliver of cool. In the noob pack, one stood out—not total trash, and oddly pivotal.

His glare snapped to Bloody Baron. Before the man could blink, a single slash sent him to respawn.

It happened so fast, Bloody Baron died without a parting word or handing off command.

Chaos erupted. “Boss smoked Bloody Baron!”

“No leader—what now?”

Leaderless against a berserk boss, panic shredded the squad. Formations dissolved. Kiting lived on coordination; without it, players scattered—some clockwise, some counter, a few even smashing into each other.

Exploits everywhere. The battle flipped hard.

“Rabble, as expected!” Yin Tianli bellowed wildly before unleashing a sky-shrouding shockwave: pear-blossom needles in a storm. Players dropped like flies, vomiting blood.

First squad teetered on wipeout when bushes rustled—thundering hooves closed in.

“Who dares!?” Yin Tianli yanked back warily. Downed players craned necks: friend or foe?

Over fifty warhorses exploded from the dark woods.

Riders gleamed with vigor, like divine reinforcements from the heavens. All level 30-plus, spearheaded by Linghu. He flashed a massive grin, baring eight pearly whites at the fallen players. “Not too late, right?”

“Aaaaaah—friendlies!”

Linghu’s crew featured unfamiliar faces, twanging with Capital City drawls. “Whoa, Jinling’s on another level. Fresh off spawn, boom—boss time.”

These were Ruan Xuezong’s out-of-town crew. Done with trades and escorts, they’d seen Jinling still popping off and hightailed it back.

Expected table scraps; got front-row heat instead.

Returning from Wash Heart Chamber of Commerce hauls, Linghu had scooped up Capital City newbies. Spawned in the capital’s stiff pomp, they’d lusted after Jiangnan and Jinling’s wild pulse.

No sales pitch needed—they jumped on the raid train.

Rivers-and-lakes grind leveled them fast, real gains. Their arrival swung the momentum back to the players.

Linghu seized command, hurling the squad back into the fray.

“Underestimated you—calling in backups!” Yin Tianli sobered fully, shedding contempt. An hour back, he’d scoffed at these puny ants; numbers or not, a Demonic Sects powerhouse like him could pulp them one-fisted.

Now? Even mantises could stall chariots, ants topple trees if stubborn enough—

One incense stick later, berserk faded. Players rolled him flat.

“Aaaaaah, first boss slayed!!!!”

“Defenses breached—storm the mountain!”

“Rush rush, Zongzong’s waiting!” A fortress with one crack crumbled like an ant hill. Players surged uphill en masse.

Their triumphant racket echoed to the villa’s embattled guests and players.

The meaning? Crystal clear.

Du Rulan’s smile iced over. He half-turned, handsome features cloaked in gloom. “Your ragtag mob’s got teeth—actually dropped a Demonic Sects heavy.”

Weak sauce from Yin Tianli or not, base defenses breached—a done deal.

“Plenty more surprises ahead,” Ruan Xuezong shot back coolly. Demonic Sects sure wouldn’t sniff his secret Six Gates call-up.

“Fine then. Quick kill. Inside… no quarter.” On those last words, Du Rulan’s pale amber eyes pinned Ruan Xuezong for two beats, then slid away blank. Twin clangs rang out—the zither’s strains surged ferocious.

Sweeping Old Man’s brows knit tight. The youth could no longer mask his half-step grandmaster’s murderous urge. He’d hoped for restraint; this foe craved a river of blood.

“Yes!” Black-clad killers swarmed, torching and arrowing freely. Tao Caiyan cracked her whip at Ruan Xuezong, snarling, “Ruan Xuezong, your head’s mine—”

Ruan Xuezong sidestepped with ease.

But in those scant seconds, qi and blood roiled in his chest, dizziness hammered his skull, a thick clot of blood lodged painfully inside.

The crowd fared worse. Poisoned guests spasmed anew; the mighty paled faintly, the weak gasped like the freshly dead.

“What kinda cursed tune?” Ruan Xuezong spat. He lunged a palm at point-blank Tao Caiyan—only to swipe air. She cackled.

“Zongzong’s debuffed!”

Players shrieked, spotting the icon over Ruan Xuezong’s head.

【Song at the Hongmen Banquet: Music stirs the soul, igniting latent toxins and scrambling a martial artist’s meridian flow. Unaffected by poison? Deeper music mastery means deeper vulnerability—a nasty debuff.】

Plain as day: Ruan Xuezong’s elite music ear made him prime bait for the demonic melody.

Player: “No debuff here—guess I suck at music. Devs throwing shade, lol.”

That’s when Sweeping Old Man committed. The sound gnawed him too, though milder than on Ruan Xuezong.

No hesitation—he lunged straight for Du Rulan.

He knew full well: halt this youth’s playing, and guest casualties would plummet. Ruan Xuezong would break free of the noose.

He closed like lightning. But at the killing strike—

A lithe shadow flickered in, blocking cold.

Sweeping Old Man stared in horror.