Your Skill Is Superb, My Luck Is High, Meeting Old Friends Is Wonderful
Lady Simone's sonic bomb was like a server-wide announcement—every treasure hunter in the underground labyrinth heard it loud and clear. The zither's sound was just too magical, with its highs and lows perfectly tuned to pierce through adamantine rock. Plus, Lady Simone pumped a ton of her own internal energy into it, so you couldn't ignore it even if you tried.
The average treasure hunter just froze for a second, paused whatever they were doing, then shrugged it off—figuring it had nothing to do with them—and went right back to fighting and looting.
But the higher-ups? They all had different reactions when that wave of zither music hit.
"So that's the legendary Lady Simone, huh? Sounds spicy—I’m interested!" Sandlord whipped out a thick-backed broadsword, gave it a couple swings to test it out, the nine rings on the blade jingling hypnotically, and the blade wind was so sharp it looked like it could slice the air itself into twisted streaks of light. He nodded, satisfied: "Divine weapons really are something else. This sword’s mine now!"
"Congratulations on scoring a divine blade, sir!" And who’s handing out the flattery? None other than Lady Wan. All four Matrons—Ten, Hundred, Thousand, and Ten Thousand—were here, and seeing four sixty-year-old ladies marching together was honestly a sight. So Lady Wan spoke with extra confidence: "But sir, aren’t we kind of missing the point here? Shouldn’t we haul the gold upstairs first, then go back down and kill that little brat? That’s the real plan!"
Sandlord didn’t even look at them, just shrugged noncommittally: "The gold’s not going anywhere, and if you want to kill that guy, you have to come down here anyway."
"Sir, I know you must have your own plans—that’s only natural. But in our deal, that little punk has to die, no exceptions! Please, don’t slack off!" Facing an Innate King like Sandlord, Lady Wan still wore that classic palace intrigue villain expression. Clearly, this was a big deal for her.
Sandlord just seemed totally casual, didn’t say a word, and walked off. But when he reached the stone chamber’s doorway, he suddenly stopped and asked, "By the way, what’s the name of that guy you’re all so desperate to kill?"
"Jack Young! Jack as in the tree, Young as in weird!" Lady Wan replied, firm and venomous: "That guy has to die!"
No sooner had she finished speaking than the situation flipped—a stone wall dropped from above, separating Sandlord on the other side. The Four Matrons were startled, but then a loud rumble sounded behind them as another door swung open. Eh, no big deal—they’d just gotten split up from Sandlord for a bit, whatever, let’s go! But when the Four Matrons turned around, they were shocked to see someone standing in the newly opened doorway!
It was a cloaked figure, all in sand-colored garb, face buried deep in shadow.
When their backs were turned, it felt like nothing was there at all. For seasoned sixty-year martial artists, their senses and instincts were suddenly useless—might as well have been dog crap. But the moment they laid eyes on the cloaked figure, a chill crept up from their heels to their scalps, making the Four Matrons tremble like mutts facing a lion.
The Four Matrons’ eyes went wide.
"Jack Young? Jack like the tree, Young like strange?" The Hooded Phantom repeated, his tone slow and flat, but laced with an odd hint of mockery and hidden anger. "You want to kill him?"
The Four Matrons jolted all over—the voice was way too familiar! Damn it, why did they have to run into this guy here, and at the worst possible moment? Just how rock-bottom is our luck stat, anyway?!
"Actually, it's just—" Lady Wan tried to say something, struggling to explain, but in a flash, the Hooded Phantom vanished right where he stood. A breeze stirred, and he seemed to teleport behind the Four Matrons. Cloak fluttering, he turned his back to them and spoke softly: "You reap what you sow. I'll be coming for your master..."
With his cloak billowing, the Hooded Phantom drifted away, his steps slow but graceful, radiating an air of regal composure.
The stone chamber fell silent. After a moment, a few more treasure hunters rushed in. At first, they were startled to see anyone inside, but soon realized the Four Matrons weren’t moving at all—eyes wide, faces frozen in terror, rooted to the spot like statues.
"What’s up with these old ladies? Someone hit their pressure points?"
"Perfect chance to search them—maybe there’s some loot!"
One of the treasure hunters reached out to touch them, but the Four Matrons suddenly toppled over like dominoes. Yet when they hit the ground, it wasn’t the dull thud of bodies—just a sharp crackling sound as they shattered into countless pieces! The treasure hunters were stunned. Just a second ago, those women looked perfectly normal, and now they were nothing but a pile of icy shards! Flesh, bone, everything had turned into tiny frozen fragments!
Whoosh! The icy shards unleashed a wave of cold, frost began to form on the stone chamber walls, and the temperature dropped fast. The treasure hunters snapped out of it, shrieking and bawling as they bolted for the exit.
"Monster, monster, monster—aaahhh!!"
Boom! Another loud noise, another doorway opened, and another cloaked figure appeared—this one much taller, broad-shouldered, and impossible to hide his intimidating presence. He stomped on the icy shards, his aura bursting out, crushing the tough ice beneath his feet into fine dust.
"Good, good, everyone come at once! Makes it easier to clean you all up together!"