Chapter 161: Two-Man Encirclement and Suppression

As Morak pulled the lever, a deluge of pollution erupted from the abyss, instantly saturating the stronghold of the Abyssal Cult with high-concentration psychic corruption.

This frenzied, chaotic miasma immediately sought out the souls of any sentient beings, indiscriminately burrowing into them, striving to twist and annihilate everything sane.

"Aaaah, my head is splitting! Help, help me!"

"It hurts, it hurts so much, save me, I don't want to die, I beg you!"

"No, close the passage, stop letting the abyss release this corruption, ugh, argh!"

The first to suffer were the ordinary cultists who lacked psychic shielding. The pollution from the abyss showed no mercy to those who "worshipped" it, violently shattering their consciousness and tearing their souls to shreds with overwhelming psychic force.

Screaming and pleading, these cultists, their minds invaded, lost all capacity for resistance; they collapsed, clutching their heads and rolling on the ground in a deluge of tears and snot.

Naturally, the members of the Night’s Edge, who were already crushing them in battle, chose to drive their blades into the vulnerable parts of their enemies, extinguishing their fragile lives.

"Die, all of you just die! You things want my life? Go to hell, all of you!" Morak shrieked hysterically, watching as the corruption he had unleashed turned the battlefield into a scene of chaotic disorder.

For reasons unknown, once the frenzied pollution surged from the depths, the darkness that had covered the area—manifested by the power of the Lady of Night—seemed to be washed away, receding to allow light to return, finally letting the cultists see their surroundings.

But it was meaningless; the psychic corruption left them utterly unable to focus on the Night’s Edge warriors before them.

The sensation of their souls being torn brought such extreme agony and vertigo that these cultists, whose willpower was far from resilient, could offer no semblance of resistance.

"No... what is happening..." Morak’s hysterical shouting faltered. As the darkness retreated, he saw the scene that had previously been obscured.

The cultists were collapsing and going mad under the psychic onslaught, yet the Night’s Edge members were slaughtering them as if completely unaffected.

"Why are they immune to the corruption? Is this why they dared to attack us?!"

He could not control his thoughts or his words; a murmur of disbelief escaped his lips, unable to process what he was witnessing.

"Great Lady of Night, please hear my prayer..." Soft whispers of devotion rose from the lips of the Night’s Edge. Every warrior, as they drove their blades into the bodies of their enemies, breathed a pious prayer to the Lady of Night.

These prayers were not to invoke divine spells, but to link themselves to the Tree of the Night Sky, which had changed its form because of these very believers.

The prayers, coupled with their sincere faith, bridged their spirits to the Tree, creating a conduit to channel both power and the psychic pollution itself.

The corruption in the air sought any vessel to invade. Morak’s vials, which contained the souls of the dead, shattered one by one as the pollution destroyed the spirits within.

The source of the corruption was too close; even with the protective artifacts he had just acquired, he could not hold out for long.

In contrast, the Night’s Edge members, chanting their prayers, channeled the corruption invading their souls directly into the Tree of the Night Sky. There, the cube tore it apart and distributed it evenly among every believer of the Lady of Night.

The volume of pollution, which would have shattered a single mind, was fragmented across the vast base of believers into a level that human souls could naturally purify, dissipating within their individual spiritual spaces.

"Once these ordinary cultists are dealt with, the standard members of the Night’s Edge are to withdraw from this space. The pollution from the abyss is endless, and it is flowing through you into the Tree of the Night Sky; it may put too much pressure on this immature network."

Wang Yu’s voice remained clear amidst the chaos. Using ripples to carry his words, he easily conveyed the message to every member of the Night’s Edge.

He knew that many of them were acting as entry points for the pollution into the network.

Because they were close to the abyss, the influx was constant. The prayer network, designed to neutralize corruption by distributing it for natural purification, could fail if the load became too great, leading to a situation where an individual's capacity to purify their share was insufficient.

This would harm the believers, so Wang Yu ordered them to withdraw after clearing the common cultists to avoid such a catastrophe.

"Understood!"

Responding with uniform precision, the Night’s Edge accelerated their purge. In a very short time, they slaughtered the remaining cultists and swiftly retreated from the area.

"Gilbert, join me in taking down the leader of the Abyssal Cult."

Wang Yu’s words reached Gilbert, who nodded, remaining behind to join Wang Yu in pressuring Morak, who was watching them with growing alarm.

Wang Yu was completely unaffected by the psychic pollution; any that entered his spiritual space was met by the old door frame representing his inner sanctum, where it simply vanished, unable to cause any harm.

Gilbert, meanwhile, relied on the prayer network to shunt the corruption into the Tree of the Night Sky, leaving him equally unconcerned.

Gilbert’s longsword swayed as he narrowed his eyes, searching for a flaw in Morak’s defense. The sensation of being surrounded by corruption yet remaining untouched was marvelous.

Previously, this corruption had been the greatest enemy of the Night’s Edge. Their combat prowess and experience could easily tear enemies apart, but the residual pollution would hide within the bodies of the slain like maggots. Over time, it would accumulate until it pierced their resilient souls, breaking these hardened warriors.

It was what sent them to the border sanatoriums—the grim destination for every retired member of the Night’s Edge.

But now, thanks to the prayer network, this corruption—which could have shattered their souls on the spot—could not harm them at all. It was guided away, distributed, and neutralized. It was a strange feeling, but a very good one.

"Damn it, why aren't you affected? Just let the abyss consume you!"

Morak watched Wang Yu and Gilbert approach. The warnings from his "Danger Sense" inner-potential flared incessantly. These two were dangerous.

No one answered his challenge. Wang Yu and Gilbert simply closed in on Morak, who was trapped with them in this space filled with psychic miasma.

Wang Yu’s ripples had already confirmed why Morak could still function in this environment: the souls that were constantly dissipating under the corruption were laid bare to Wang Yu’s observation.

Morak could not stall; the souls he had left were not enough to sustain him against Wang Yu. And Wang Yu and Gilbert had all the time in the world.

"No, I have to break out. If I stay, I’ll die. I’ll kill that one who looks like a low-rank formal knight first, then fight the high-rank one to the death... maybe I can make it out. No, I will survive! I will be the one who lives!"

Morak muttered to himself, his tone growing increasingly deranged. His protection was not perfect; while the shattering of souls neutralized some of the corruption, a small portion still bypassed them to invade his mind. He was descending into madness, at a steady pace.

"Da!" Drawing his curved longsword from behind his back, Morak lunged directly at Wang Yu, whom he perceived to be below the level of a formal knight. It was a high-quality enchanted weapon, and combined with his inner-potential, it had claimed many heads before.

"I don't know what their inner-potential is, but my Danger Sense is never wrong. As long as I follow the information it provides, I have a chance!"

In battles between formal knights, the deciding factor—beyond physical strength and battle aura—was inner-potential. The variety of these potentials made combat between knights a game of suspicion and probing; one slip could lead to death at the hands of a knight with weaker raw power.

Gilbert moved to close in on Wang Yu, clearly understanding Morak’s intent. In truth, Gilbert didn't think Wang Yu was very strong, and he didn't believe staying to face the danger was a good choice, but Wang Yu’s status and the debt he owed him kept him from arguing.

Watching the enemy charge, Wang Yu locked his gaze onto Morak’s movements. His ripples had spread out, capturing every shift, and he had already prepared his communication with the Weaver’s Book. His Blood-Burning Drive was already pushed to the limit.

Gilbert was closer to Wang Yu than Morak was; he would reach Wang Yu before Morak could, ensuring Morak would have no chance to strike Wang Yu alone.

Morak gritted his teeth. Opportunities were rare; he had to seize this one. He had to use his remaining trump cards. No matter how precious they were, they were not worth more than his life.

"Click." Another flashing gem hidden between his fingers was crushed. Morak’s form flickered, and he appeared in mid-air directly in front of Wang Yu. His curved blade traced a white arc, hacking toward Wang Yu’s unprotected neck at a vicious angle.

He was confident that this low-rank formal knight could never parry a strike that came without warning.

Wang Yu’s consciousness had indeed been a beat slow when Morak used the flashing gem, but his body’s instinct, guided by the ripples, instantly locked onto Morak’s position. His hands, covered by the Void Blade gauntlets, lashed out with the immense power of the Blood-Burning Drive, blocking the path of the blade.

"Clang!" The blade collided with the Void Blade gauntlets. Their formidable defense was displayed once more; sparks flew, but the gauntlets remained unscathed.

The sheer strength of a formal knight was hard to counter, even for Wang Yu using the Blood-Burning Drive. His hands were jarred back, and though he avoided having his throat cut, his body was thrown off balance by the immense force.

"!" Morak was shocked. This guy, who felt like a low-rank formal knight, had strength and reaction speed nearly equal to his own. The strength might be slightly less, but not by much.

And why did his sword-hand feel a sense of crisis just now?

An invisible force manifested in the air, forcibly stabilizing Wang Yu’s unbalanced frame. Wang Yu’s wizardry was weak, but it was still convenient for auxiliary tasks.

A flash of light from a lightning spear vanished in his hand. Wang Yu felt a flicker of regret; his reaction had been a beat too slow. Had he used the spear while parrying, it would have followed the blade straight into Morak’s body.

Failing the first strike, Morak pursued without hesitation. Gilbert was still some distance away. Wang Yu was definitely weaker than that high-rank formal knight; he had to seize this chance. He had to kill him, even if he had to force it!

He erupted his battle aura, sparing no cost to reinforce his physical strength. His feet shattered the ground as he pushed off, seeking maximum thrust.

Muscles tensed and released, and his body became a blur of motion. He gripped his curved sword with both hands, aiming for Wang Yu’s abdomen, and swung with all his speed and power.

"Swish!" It was too fast. The power of a high-rank formal knight was beyond that of a mere biological entity. Pushing himself to the limit, his speed briefly surpassed that of a heavy crossbow bolt.

Though Wang Yu’s ripples could track the trajectory, his body could not keep up with Morak’s full-throttle assault.

"Crack..." A slight sound came from the ground. A protruding rock, which had begun to form under the power of the Weaver’s Book before Morak’s burst, rose up. Wang Yu’s prediction had compensated for the delay in his spellcasting, meeting Morak’s terrifying speed.

"Boom!" The rock collided with Morak’s leg and was instantly pulverized; the hardness of the ground was insufficient against the terrifying power of a high-rank formal knight.

It only slightly hindered Morak’s speed, giving Wang Yu a moment to react. The blade sliced through Wang Yu’s leather armor. The enchanted runes flared—armor-piercing, rending, and bleeding—the blade easily tore through the chainmail beneath and carved a deep, gaping wound into Wang Yu’s abdomen.

The silhouettes of Morak and Wang Yu parted upon the briefest of contact. "It’s done!" The very instant he felt that sickening sensation of tearing flesh, he knew success was his.

Even for an official knight, a wound of that magnitude in a vulnerability as critical as the abdomen would utterly strip away any capacity to sustain a fight; even if it didn't kill Wang Yu outright, crippling him would be more than enough.

Yet, almost at the precise second the scimitar ripped through Wang Yu’s belly and they crossed paths, a prickly, looming sense of dread materialized right against the small of Morak's back.

"What in the world?!"

"Bang!"

Heeding that sudden, visceral instinct of peril, Morak threw his torso forward in a sharp duck, fighting against the sheer inertia of his own forward momentum. He felt something whistle past, brushing the skin of his back before slamming violently into the ground below.

A glance out of the corner of his eye revealed Wang Yu standing perfectly intact, despite the fact that his abdomen should have been carved wide open and his internal organs severely compromised. Right above that gruesome laceration, tiny, blood-red tendrils pulsed and writhed, weaving through the ruptured flesh like liquid sewing needles to hold the wound together. Under the reinforcing effects of the Secret Method of the Bloody Furious Wind Knight, the explosive spray of blood Morak had anticipated never even manifested.

And the source of that bullet which had just grazed Morak’s back was none other than Wrath of the Forge, gripped firmly in Wang Yu’s hand, its barrel still smoking from the shot.

"An inner potential akin to my Ripple's precognition?" Having his sudden ambush from behind evaded, Wang Yu instantly deduced that Morak must possess some latent ability to sense incoming sneak attacks.

It was likely an inner potential, but if that were the case, a fresh strategy began to take shape within Wang Yu’s mind.

"Thud, thud, thud!" A rapid cascade of heavy footsteps hammering the earth drew near as Gilbert, a fellow high-tier official knight, rushed to the scene.

He had been seized by a sudden horror the moment he saw the scimitar slice across Wang Yu’s midsection, but his mind eased once he noticed Wang Yu standing as though nothing had happened; this esteemed figure, who had engineered the entire prayer communication network, was certainly no foolhardy reckless soul.

Enshrouding his blade with the inner potential of the Blade of the Netherworld, Gilbert pressed forward in a swift offensive. Morak adjusted his stance and wheeled around to strike back, his scimitar sweeping outward to intercept the descending longsword of the charging Gilbert—a parry!

Yet a sharp, piercing spike of agony shooting through his wrist in that split second forced him to violently wrench his strength away, altering the scimitar’s trajectory. If he took the hit like this, his wrist would break entirely, though he had no inkling as to why!

The longsword sliced straight through the phantom plane of the redirected scimitar without meeting a shred of resistance, cleaving downward toward the exact spot where Morak’s wrist had been a heartbeat prior.

Had Morak not forcibly twisted the direction of his own momentum, that sudden, guard-ignoring slash would have left his wrist shattered, if not severed entirely.

"Haaah!" Letting out a roar laced with panic and lingering dread, Morak swung his scimitar in a wide, horizontal sweep, forcing Gilbert back by sheer desperation. An attack that bypassed defenses—he understood it now, which meant... "Bang!"

A bullet from Wrath of the Forge streaked past the dodging Morak. The precognitive warning born of his inner potential had once again allowed the man to evade the shot from Wang Yu’s alchemical revolver.

Gilbert dodged the sweeping scimitar and lunged forward without a moment's hesitation to engage Morak in close quarters once more, but Morak proved to be incredibly elusive under the boon of an inner potential so perfectly tailored for active combat.

He was always able to anticipate the blind spots in his own defense a step ahead and compensate for them; Gilbert's sudden, unpredictable thrusts fueled by his armor-penetrating inner potential failed to yield any element of surprise against Morak.

At times, Morak would even endure minor injuries to seize an opening for a counterattack, leaving several shallow but persistently bleeding gashes across Gilbert's arms.

Meanwhile, the supportive gunfire Wang Yu provided from the periphery was consistently sensed and forcibly evaded by Morak every single time. Nevertheless, the abrupt, erratic warnings of danger flaring up across various parts of his body prevented him from fully capitalizing on Gilbert's openings to deliver a decisive, crippling blow.

One had to admit that the inner potential of "Danger Sense" did indeed grant Morak a profound advantage in the high-speed, lethal clash between knights.

"Clang!" Dodging yet another of Gilbert's defense-ignoring thrusts, Morak swung his scimitar horizontally, carving a massive, bloody rent across Gilbert’s wide-open chest. Just as Morak prepared to press the advantage, that familiar, stinging sensation of being targeted by Wang Yu flared up right in his lower abdomen.

"Curse it, it's always when I grasp an opening! No, even if I take a hit, I have to seize this perfect chance. If I heavily wound that official knight, the match is mine."

Wang Yu’s shots were invariably timed for the exact moment Morak exposed Gilbert's vulnerabilities, which frustrated Morak to no end, rendering him incapable of expanding his tactical gains. This opportunity was simply too golden; even if it meant sustaining an injury, he had to press the strike.

Ignoring the premonition of danger focused on his lower belly, he forced his way forward and hoisted his scimitar, intending to endure the bullet while lopping off Gilbert’s arm. Morak had already calculated the bullet’s destructive yield; after piercing his armor, it would at most inflict a wound that wouldn't severely impair his combat efficiency. Trading an injury for an enemy's limb was well worth the price.

Yet, in the very next instant, a wave of profound regret washed over him. The localized premonition of danger at his lower abdomen suddenly erupted, engulfing his entire lower torso with a searing, intolerable burning sensation that heralded an incoming catastrophe of horrific proportions.

"Mm... perfect," Wang Yu murmured softly. Having already orchestrated their tactics with Gilbert via Ripple sound transmission, the "Forge" mechanism at the muzzle of his Wrath of the Forge, used for storing energy, was reaching its limit. The concealed power of the Lady of the Night, which had hitherto shrouded the mana fluctuations and masked Morak’s danger sense, was completely shattered by the frantic, outward torrent of heat and raw energy building within.

"Boom!"

A serpent of flame roared forth as a blinding, crimson trail of light tore through the open air!