Chapter Ten: Open Attacks Are Easy to Defend, But Hidden Arrows Are Hard to Guard Against

"Courting death." The two words slipped lightly from Shen Ce’s lips, yet his tone was icy, laced with an aggression that brooked no disregard.

“Hmph, who’s really courting death is yet to be decided!” Crimson Wolf was infuriated by Shen Ce’s contempt. “That masked man isn’t here today. You think you alone can take us on? If you know what’s good for you, hand back my steel blade and apologize in the world channel. Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll be generous enough to let you off today!”

Shen Ce’s face was cold and expressionless. He was about to reply when Han Qishao stepped forward, positioning himself in front. “Crimson Wolf, don’t be so sure of yourself. Who said Lord Zero was alone on his side?”

Shen Ce glanced at the black-clad hunter standing before him, a complex feeling stirring inside. Han Qishao, unhurried, drew three barbed golden arrows from his quiver and fitted them to the Cloudsplitter Bow he’d bought earlier. His light emerald eyes sparkled with a lazy smile, as if his words were no threat but merely idle chatter among friends.

“Han Qishao! You and I have always minded our own business,” Crimson Wolf growled, his broad, tiger-like eyes burning with fury. “You’d better think twice before standing up for this kid!”

Shen Ce hadn’t expected Han Qishao and Crimson Wolf to be acquainted, but regardless, he had no reason to drag Han Qishao into his affairs. He was a solitary man; Crimson Wolf might find it hard to cause him real trouble, but Han Qishao had ambitions to form a guild, and provoking Crimson Wolf could have unimaginable consequences. Shen Ce turned to Han Qishao, his voice calm as water. “Qishao, this is my own matter. There’s no need for you to—”

Han Qishao waved him off, a faint smile curving his lips, his voice deep and magnetic. “Don’t say that. Isn’t it natural to draw your blade for injustice?”

Crimson Wolf’s group, seeing Han Qishao adamantly taking Shen Ce’s side, immediately launched their skills without further ado. The young priestess retreated behind her companions, casting support spells, while the earth mage in yellow robes chanted, clearly preparing a major spell. Crimson Wolf himself charged straight at Shen Ce—once he closed in on the priest, the rest would be easy.

Shen Ce pressed his thin lips together. Realizing Han Qishao wouldn’t back down, he quickly cast the Goddess of Light’s Blessing on them both. “I’ll handle the priestess and the earth mage. The warrior’s yours… Thanks.” He spoke as he retreated, simultaneously tossing a Stun spell at Crimson Wolf. Any priest knew to keep their distance from powerful melee players; otherwise, it was suicide.

Han Qishao raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised at Shen Ce’s gratitude. A glimmer flashed in those light emerald eyes. “No need for thanks. If you have the chance, Lord Zero, you can make it up to me later.” With that, his bowstring snapped taut, and three golden arrows cut through the air, burying themselves in Crimson Wolf’s left leg.

It was the first time Shen Ce had met someone so forthright about demanding compensation. He couldn’t help but look twice at Han Qishao, who met his gaze with a playful, nonchalant smile, as if it were all a joke.

Crimson Wolf, still dazed from the stun for five or six seconds, couldn’t dodge the attack. The three arrows drove deep into his flesh, their barbed tips tearing mercilessly. As the stun faded, Crimson Wolf’s eyes bulged with rage, the veins on his hand gripping the broadsword standing out like cords. “Han Qishao, I’ll kill you!”

“I’ll be waiting,” the black-clad hunter replied, his smile ever more composed, his expression teasing as if toying with prey.

Crimson Wolf fixed his gaze on Han Qishao, let out a guttural roar, and with furious strength, ripped the arrows from his leg, heedless of the blood pouring down. He immediately changed direction to pursue Han Qishao, activating Flowing Gale Battle Aura while downing half a bottle of red potion. Though his wound wasn’t healed, his charge was swift; in just a few breaths, he closed in on Han Qishao.

Han Qishao remained at ease, leaping onto his horse in a flash of black. Golden streaks shot through the air as Crimson Wolf instinctively raised his blade to block, only to realize Han Qishao had already circled behind him on horseback.

Meanwhile, Shen Ce was contending with the earth mage and the young priestess. He intended to eliminate the priestess—the enemy’s support—first, but she seemed to anticipate his plan, darting about to evade him, casting healing spells on her teammates but rarely attacking. The yellow-robed earth mage fought Shen Ce head-on, and his initial chain of earth spikes nearly cost Shen Ce a third of his health.

Yet Shen Ce felt no anxiety at the situation. He sneered inwardly and hurled a dazzling silver arc of light at the mage. The glare was so intense that the mage could barely open his eyes. Mistaking it for a spell attack, he hastily erected an earth shield for protection.

As the light faded, the mage realized his mistake. His blood seemed to run backwards, his face turning deathly pale—he was hit!

Shen Ce now closed in on the priestess, his white robe billowing in the wind, the deep violet staff in his hand glowing brightly. A stream of sacred, milky light surged into the young priestess’s body. There was no sharp sound, no wild killing intent, not a drop of blood spilled—yet the light faded from her features, and she became, in an instant, a lifeless puppet. A moment later, her form began to emit white light and dissolved into fragments.

With their support gone, the earth mage caught a glimpse of his own impending doom. He forced a bitter smile but kept weaving his signs. With a whistling wind, a miniature tornado of earth swept towards Shen Ce.

Shen Ce watched the tornado’s approach with cold eyes. Suddenly, he raised his violet rhinoceros staff, tracing a hexagram in the air. A massive barrier of light slammed down before the tornado. The whirlwind battered the wall, emitting muffled keening, but could not break through.

Shen Ce downed a mana potion, then twirled his staff, conjuring a swirl of pearly mist from its violet tip. Like dawn mist, it drifted toward the earth mage, quickly enveloping him completely.

The mage was shocked to find all his strength locked away, unable even to chant a spell. He looked in panic at Shen Ce, not far ahead—this man, clad in holy priestly robes, seemed more terrifying than the most fiendish specter from the depths of hell.

Shen Ce did not disappoint the terror in his opponent’s eyes. With a slight lift of his staff, several white magic missiles struck the yellow-robed mage, and another corpse fell to the ground.

With those two dealt with, Shen Ce finally had time to check on Han Qishao’s battle. Crimson Wolf’s broadsword flashed with a blood-red gleam as he suddenly swung—not at Han Qishao, but at the horse beneath him.

The chestnut horse’s leg was slashed, sending it into a frenzy. As blood spurted, the horse bolted madly. Han Qishao’s expression didn’t change. Using the momentum of the blade, he leapt to Crimson Wolf’s left, firing two arrows in quick succession, one piercing Crimson Wolf’s brow, the other striking his already wounded leg.

Crimson Wolf’s left leg went numb and he dropped to one knee. He cast a resentful glance at Shen Ce and Han Qishao before vanishing in a streak of white light—evidently, he’d lost another level after his earlier defeat at Frostleaf Plain.

Though Crimson Wolf’s venomous glare unsettled Shen Ce, relief washed over him at last. He walked over to Han Qishao and smiled sincerely. “Thanks to you this time.” As he spoke, he cast a healing spell on the crazed chestnut horse, soothing the animal.

But Han Qishao did not relax as Shen Ce did. A trace of shock flickered in his hawk-like eyes, leaving Shen Ce puzzled—until Han Qishao suddenly switched their positions.

Blood trickled from the corner of Han Qishao’s mouth, quickly soaking his dark clothes with a stain of red, not immediately obvious. His figure began to fade, and with a nonchalant shrug, his mischievous eyes seemed to say—now you truly owe me.