Chapter Fifty-Five: Isaac, the Shaman of the Witch Tribe

Chapter Fifty-Five: Isaac, the Shaman of the Witch Tribe

Selos’s toe barely touched the ground before his figure shot upward; in the blink of an eye, he landed on the stage. The spectators blink in disbelief, instantly convinced the assassin truly possessed formidable strength—perhaps, they thought, a spectacular show awaited.

Across from Selos, the man known as Killing Intent Like the Wind downed two bottles of healing potion, adjusting himself to peak condition. He wore his usual cheerful grin, his round eyes roving over Selos’s form.

The referee saw both contestants ready and raised his small flag, declaring, “Begin!”

No sooner had his words faded than a crack sounded in the air.

Everyone heard the snap of bone. Eyes fixed tightly on the stage, yet they were dazzled by a storm of flashing sword blades.

No one saw how the scene unfolded; by the time they could see clearly, everything was already settled.

Selos stood serenely on his original spot, emanating no hint of murderous aura. Even his weapon was nowhere to be seen. Opposite him, the man and his lion lay stupefied on the ground, their expressions vacant as if their souls had fled—the once fiery red lion was shaved bald, pitiful to behold, and Killing Intent Like the Wind, though unharmed, propped himself on one hand, his clothes reduced to ragged strips barely covering him.

Was that it? Was it over?

Everyone stared in disbelief, rubbing their eyes, mouths agape as if they could swallow an egg. Someone snickered quietly, and laughter rippled through the crowd. But the laughter soon faded into an eerie silence. Their gazes shifted from Killing Intent Like the Wind to the other side, settling on the masked silver figure; at that moment, every body shivered, and a creeping fear spread through their hearts.

The player lying there was Killing Intent Like the Wind—casual as he seemed, he had been the previous champion of the Glory Wars!

So what terrifying power must the masked assassin on the other side possess?

Shen Ce had suspected Selos was stronger than Killing Intent Like the Wind, but he had never imagined Selos could topple him so effortlessly—and in such a... speechless manner.

Perhaps, because Selos was connected to “Heaven’s Horizon,” he had access to strength and cheat methods beyond anyone’s imagination.

Shen Ce stared dazedly at Selos. Suddenly, Selos glanced back at him, their eyes meeting. Shen Ce saw the faint curve at the other’s lips and nodded silently. He knew Selos had acted on his behalf. His long lashes lowered, moved by Selos’s gesture, yet he found Selos impossibly unfathomable. Such strength hardly seemed something a player could possess. If anyone claimed Selos hadn’t received a cheat from the game company, Shen Ce wouldn’t believe it.

What sort of high-ranking staff in “Heaven’s Horizon” was Selos? Ordinary employees couldn’t possibly obtain such an extraordinary golden finger...

While Shen Ce’s mind wandered, Selos had already stepped down from the stage. Those standing close hesitated to speak; faced with overwhelming power, the first instinct for all was—submission. Perhaps, besides submission, they knew nothing else to do, for resistance was futile.

The referee only snapped back to himself after Selos left the stage. He knew he ought to call Selos back, but the man’s presence was so intimidating his voice trembled imperceptibly: “Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge?” Yet he did not actually summon Selos. With such strength displayed, who would dare step forward and court death?

Silence reigned; none dared respond. Selos walked toward Shen Ce, signaling they could leave. Shen Ce started, blurting out, “Thank you.” His voice was not loud, but the words were earnest.

Selos’s gaze was deep as a bottomless abyss, his eyes curving slightly. “It’s nothing.”

Amidst hundreds of awed and envious gazes, Shen Ce and Selos left the Demon Arena side by side. When they reached the main gates, attendants presented them each with a badge granting entry to the Demon underground market.

Shen Ce raised his badge, abandoning his usual seriousness, and teased, “So your earlier purchase wasn’t for nothing after all?”

A faint smile touched Selos’s lips, his voice clear and pleasant. “Not at all.” At least, after Killing Intent Like the Wind fell and Shen Ce thanked him, Selos felt an inexplicable satisfaction.

Shen Ce lifted his gaze; they were close, and the atmosphere subtly shifted, almost intimate. Shen Ce could even smell the crisp scent on the other’s body. He had always disliked others getting close, but with Selos, he found he didn’t mind.

Shen Ce paused, suddenly recalling the nightmare in the Amethyst Mine. The uncomfortable memory made his shoulders twitch; he lowered his eyes and hurried forward.

Realizing Shen Ce was deliberately distancing himself, Selos’s smile faded, his expression inscrutable. What was Shen Ce thinking?

Thus, each wrapped in their own thoughts, they entered the bustling underground market. Shouts and bargaining filled the air, little different from the markets above ground. Shen Ce, following his earlier research, headed straight for Isaac the Shaman’s residence, knowing the house would be marked with a distinctive red ribbon, easy to spot.

It wasn’t long before Shen Ce found Isaac’s abode—surprisingly humble, the door so low it was almost absurd. He judged that any adult player would have to stoop to enter.

Shen Ce regarded the little house, unimpressed by Isaac’s taste in living quarters. The Witch Tribe wasn’t made up of dwarves, and even if they were, there was no reason to build the house so small. Frowning, Shen Ce said to Selos, “You should wait outside. I’ll ask him myself.” Selos tilted his head and nodded quietly.

Shen Ce approached the door alone, knocking tentatively. An elderly cough sounded from within. Unsure whether he was permitted to enter, Shen Ce opened the door and bent to step inside.

“Young man, you’re quite bold.”

The door was narrow and low; Shen Ce barely managed to turn around when he heard the words, startling him. He looked ahead and saw a gaunt, rough-robed elder seated upright on a mat, his eyes closed, yet he radiated the air of a sage.

Shen Ce assumed the comment referred to his uninvited entry; he offered an apologetic smile and said sincerely, “I entered your home without permission. Please forgive me.”

Isaac suddenly opened his eyes. Shen Ce was startled by the inorganic gaze—was the shaman blind? Shen Ce opened his mouth, unsure what to say. It was rumored that shamans were akin to prophets, able to see through past and future, and thus punished by heaven. Isaac’s blindness was not surprising.

“Heh, that’s not what I meant,” Isaac said, his words pointed as he glanced toward the door, then slowly returned his gaze. “I know you.”

“You know me?” Shen Ce wondered if Isaac was trying to frighten him. After all, this was their first meeting, and many shamans, although not omniscient, liked to pretend to be mysterious to toy with others.

“The Light Priest of Ling Shui City, newly hidden as a Dark Priest among the demons.” Isaac finished, and was evidently pleased by the shock on Shen Ce’s face.

Having had his identity revealed so easily, yet sensing no hostility, Shen Ce relaxed somewhat. “Then you know why I’ve come?”

“You want entry to the Demon Palace, don’t you?” Isaac fixed his gaze on Shen Ce, speaking unhurriedly. “It’s not difficult. Just follow the one waiting outside—every obstacle will resolve itself.”

“What?” Shen Ce looked at Isaac in confusion, then realized whom he meant. “You mean Selos?”

Why did Isaac claim Selos was the key to entering the Demon Palace?

It wasn’t that Shen Ce doubted Selos’s ability or privilege to enter. Selos clearly had some hidden connection to “Heaven’s Horizon.” But as Shen Ce pondered this, his heart suddenly pounded twice. Isaac was just an NPC, no matter how intelligent, merely a piece of data controlled by the system. If he was just data, how could he know about Selos’s connection to “Heaven’s Horizon”?

Isaac saw Shen Ce’s bewilderment and closed his eyes mockingly, issuing a dismissal: “Go now. I’ve told you how to enter the Demon Palace. One more word of advice—remember to keep your eyes open at all times.”