Chapter 34: Rain Night Massacre

"Attention! Watch out!" The men standing at the entrance erupted into sudden panic.

Though well-trained, they could not help but feel shock and cowardice in the face of such an extreme and abrupt turn of events.

The entire estate was dark, save for the central mansion which still radiated light, like a lone boat upon a sea of shadows.

"Quick, quick, retreat into the mansion!" someone among the Black Tooth mercenaries shouted a warning.

In this pitch-black, rain-lashed night, it was clearly wiser to rely on their numbers in a lit area than to fight a decisive battle against an enemy in the dark.

"No, we can't get in! Something has sealed the mansion off!"

As they attempted to retreat inside, they discovered the building seemed encased in an invisible barrier; neither the main doors nor the windows would yield to them.

One man, refusing to give up, picked up a stone and hurled it at the empty air before the hall entrance.

It struck something invisible and hard, and the stone shattered into pieces.

The flying debris left the unlucky man’s hand dripping with blood, yet the invisible barrier remained completely unaffected.

"Damn it, could that bastard Decathlon be behind this?" someone in the crowd roared in frustration, the dire situation fueling their mounting anxiety.

Outside lurked an unknown enemy, and the mansion was inaccessible; for these mercenaries, who were essentially bullies, the pressure was immense.

"There’s no point dwelling on it. If this isn't magic, it’s witchcraft."

"That guy Decathlon was always worshipping some strange idol; it’s probably the work of some evil god. Let’s not waste time trying to break through this!"

A man in mage’s robes, who had previously served as a "servant" in Decathlon’s room, called out.

"What do we do now? Staying around the mansion makes us too obvious. If he keeps ambushing us from the darkness, we’ll be… Pfft!"

A man holding a lantern on the edge of the group was shouting urgently, telling everyone not to stand near the mansion, as the light would expose them and the butcher in the dark would lock onto them...

As if to confirm his words, before he could finish, a blood-stained axe tore through the shadows and shattered the lantern in his hand.

The momentum did not falter; the blade buried itself deep into his chest. With a sickening crunch, his sternum shattered, and white bone shards sprayed out along with a gush of blood that painted the ground.

The massive trauma left the man no chance to linger in this world.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood mixed with gore, the corpse—still clutching the broken lantern lid—slammed face-first onto the rain-soaked lawn, staining the gardener’s well-tended grass crimson.

"Hellish thing!" the mercenaries cried out. The damned butcher was like a phantom; they couldn't catch a glimpse of him, and the pitch-black, rainy night hid the hunter perfectly.

"Groups of five, take one lantern! Disperse!" the middle-aged man dressed as a mage shouted. The hellish axe-wielder put immense pressure on him, but he knew they couldn't just sit and wait for death.

"Don't forget what we of the Black Tooth excel at: blind fighting and night raids!" The man hid himself within the crowd, watching the surroundings warily, terrified that an axe might suddenly fly out and split his skull.

"Right, Old York is right! The bastard is only relying on the fact that he can see us while we can't see him. Extinguish the lights! Groups of five, disperse!" Others in the crowd immediately responded.

Finding a backbone in their panic, they calmed down. Yes, the Black Tooth mercenary group specialized in stealth, assassination, and nocturnal harassment.

It was only the nature of mercenaries—lacking the rigid discipline and iron will of a true army—that had made them so chaotic during the initial ambush. Once reminded, their inherent skills returned.

They fell silent, pairing off into standard five-man squads, watching each other’s backs as they cautiously retreated from the brightly lit central mansion.

The torrential rain and the chaotic sound of bursting droplets masked the noise of their movements.

Soon, the endless ocean of darkness swallowed the separated groups, silently dissolving them into the noisy yet deathly quiet rainy night.

Old York, the mage, blended into one of the five-man teams. As a six-man unit, they had York shield the kerosene lamp, covering it with a black cloth to ensure their only source of light wouldn't be extinguished.

The six moved through the pitch-black night. The world was truly devoid of light; the thick, dark clouds had swallowed everything.

Only the bright magic moon managed to squeeze a pathetic sliver of light through the dark clouds.

That moonlight was further devoured by the heavy curtain of rain, leaving only a meager trace by the time it reached the ground.

They strained their eyes to adapt to the darkness. Though incredibly difficult, years of adventuring and specialized training granted them limited vision.

"That hidden bastard must be relying on light to target us, just like we do!" one of the six said, sounding somewhat excited.

"Right, we’re experts at this. As long as we hold out until dawn or the clouds break, we’ll be fine!" another agreed.

"Quiet, stay alert. Find a building and use it for cover."

A calmer man told them to stop talking. Even though the fierce rain meant their voices could barely travel a few paces, they had to remain cautious!

The six fell silent, carefully piercing the curtain of rain. The surrounding darkness felt like an invisible enemy; a monster could leap out from anywhere.

With nerves taut and vigilance at its peak, the six moved carefully through the ocean of darkness.

In the dark world, the silhouette of a building appeared before them. "The gardener’s shed!" someone recognized the shape.

No one spoke; they quickened their pace and leaned against it. With a wall for cover, the area they needed to watch would be much smaller, offering more safety and room for error.

Leaning against it cautiously, the boundless darkness and rain still weighed heavily on these "experts." Even for them, such extreme conditions were rare.

The six pressed their backs against the outer wall of the shed. Having something solid behind them made them feel better, and the presence of their companions provided a great sense of security.

Maintaining vigilance, they huddled in the corner of the shed, peering into the endless dark.

What they didn't notice was Old York carefully taking a small vial from his pocket in the dark.

The surrounding gloom was so thick that the movement, though close by, went unnoticed by his companions.

With a faint smile, York checked his surroundings.

Seeing his companions focused on the darkness opposite the shed, he bit the wooden stopper off the vial and downed the liquid.

Seconds later, a stinging sensation hit York’s eyes. A sour ache spread across his eyeballs, and he involuntarily closed them.

When the discomfort faded, he opened his eyes, and the world before him was transformed.

The pitch-black world finally receded, replaced by a vision that was still dim but clearly visible.

He breathed a sigh of relief; he had finally managed to drink the night-vision potion without his companions noticing.

He knew exactly what kind of people his companions were; if they knew he had such a treasure, it wouldn't have been him drinking it.

Looking at the rain-covered estate, the terrifying darkness finally lifted, and a sense of indescribable ease washed over him.

Leaning against the wall, York thought that as long as he could see in the dark, the killer wouldn't be able to touch them...

Suddenly, "Hrrk!" A pained wheeze rose in the relaxed York’s throat, but it was stifled by an unknown force before the sound could escape.

York’s terrified eyes darted behind him. A powerful arm had burst through the shed’s wooden wall, and a hand with splayed fingers clamped tightly over his entire face.

The strong hand crushed the frail mage, his limbs unable to move due to the sudden pressure on his windpipe and brain.

Desperate screams echoed in York’s mind: "Why? How did he know I was here? Why was there no sound? Why?"

That was the last thing he would ever think. Muscles bulged, force increased, and York’s head was smashed directly into the shed’s wall, coating the boards in blood and gore.

Blood splattered, spraying the other five men who were watching the darkness and not paying attention to their rear.

The rain was too heavy; even with the eaves, a large amount of water splashed onto them. Their skin, constantly pelted by liquid, had already grown accustomed to the sensation.

It was only when they felt the distinct warmth of the liquid that three of them reacted—yes, three.

Wang Yu had muffled his movements as much as possible, and the sound of the violent rain provided the perfect cover.

No one noticed the butcher in the night had approached his prey. Before the other three could react to the strange warmth of the blood, the heavy axe blades had already severed the heads of the other two from their bodies.

The spraying blood splashed onto the faces of those who turned around; beneath the warm blood were expressions of sheer terror.

Then, those terrified faces shattered. Without giving them a chance to react, Wang Yu spun the twin axes that had just claimed two heads, the momentum still pulling his arms.

Power surged from his waist and abdomen; his upper body rotated, his lower body drove the force, and the two short axes flew in a cross-pattern, burying themselves into the terrified faces of the two men. Without a doubt, they shattered.

The corpse collapsed, and the last survivor, within his severely limited field of vision, saw a dark silhouette drawing near. In an instant, a thunderclap tore through the sky, and the blossoming silver arc of lightning brought a fleeting moment of brilliance to this darkened realm.

The last man saw that figure; the lightning struck behind Wang Yu, illuminating only his back.

This man faced Wang Yu’s pitch-black visage and the two sharp axes Wang Yu had retrieved once more, dripping with blood and caked in gore and bone fragments.

Five headless corpses lay at Wang Yu’s feet, their blood washing away into rivers in the rain, with crimson dregs swirling and pooling beneath him.

Terror flooded the last man’s pupils, and a shrill, desperate shriek erupted from his throat. The death rattle was so potent that it pierced the roar of the rain, reaching the ears of all who still moved, bringing with it dread and unease.

"Pfft!" The scream was cut short, replaced by a deeper, more profound trembling.

Stepping forward to retrieve the axe embedded in the enemy’s skull, Wang Yu’s gaze remained indifferent as he sprinted into the pitch-black, rainy night.

His Inner Eye remained active, the ripples providing a three-hundred-sixty-degree view; within a fifteen-meter radius, every minute detail was laid bare.

Neither wind nor rain could hinder him; the darkness was his greatest ally. The butcher of the night—tonight’s frenzied slaughter had only just begun!

...

In the pitch-black rainy night, the shriek of despair exploded once more, a sound that chilled the soul no matter how many times it was heard.

This was the fourth time; a total of thirty-two men, divided into six squads. This meant the butcher of the night had already hunted down four teams.

Originally, it should have taken only three men to have a chance at surrounding and killing Wang Yu, whose strength was merely that of an intermediate squire.

Yet, as Wang Yu had said, if there are no conditions, one must create them. Wang Yu, who should have been the prey, was now ruthlessly slaughtering them in this deep, dark, rainy night, within a hunting ground of his own making.

Two kerosene lamps suddenly flared in the deep black of the rain curtain, lighting up two patches of brightness in the pitch-black abyss.

The terrified prey realized that hiding was now meaningless; the hunter had his own ways of locating them in the dark.

Evasion was futile; only by pooling their strength and staking everything on one final gamble might they find a sliver of survival.

Their luck was not bad; the two Black Tooth squads that had extinguished their lights were not far apart. Once the lamps were lit and they knew each other’s positions, they converged with great speed.

The two points of light drew together, and the two groups finally merged. On their faces, as they looked at one another, were the same expressions of fear and anxiety.

When the lights were lit, the hunter would lock onto them even faster than they could find their companions.

"We can't hide anymore! It’s pointless. He’s just a squire! No matter what method he uses to move unimpeded in the dark, as long as we can lock onto him, we have nothing to fear!"

One of the eleven shouted, trying to stir the will of his companions, but with little effect.

Some tightened their grip on their blades, their expressions turning resolute, but more were filled with dread, merely huddling closer to their comrades.

The man who had shouted wanted to say more, but two familiar axes once again tore through the rain curtain, entering the area illuminated by the pitiful light of the kerosene lamps. This time, however, the group was prepared.

Amidst desperate roars of "Protect the light source!", everyone tried to shield the two remaining lamps.

One axe was too cunning; even with everyone’s best efforts to intercept it, it shattered one lamp, simultaneously carving a deep, bone-reaching wound into the left ribcage of the lamp-bearer.

The other axe, under the desperate dodging and parrying of the group, was finally forced to the ground by two clashing blades, failing to extinguish the last source of light.

The light had ultimately forced Wang Yu, the blood-soaked butcher of the night, out from the darkness.

"He failed to destroy the light! Attack! Some of you protect the lamp, the rest of you, charge!"

The man who had shouted saw that Wang Yu failed to destroy the lamp and was overjoyed, calling out urgently, which spurred the other mercenaries into action.

Five men guarded the last light source, while the other six drew sharp longswords and pulled exquisite hand-crossbows from their pockets.

Longsword in one hand, crossbow in the other—the signature group assault tactic of the Black Tooth Mercenary Group.

The butcher of the night looked at the five men gathered around the lamp and the six fully armed mercenaries circling cautiously, and revealed a cruel smile.

Wang Yu chuckled, whispering, "Good, gathering together is exactly what I wanted." He raised his right hand, and the ring on his index finger suddenly flashed with a fiery red light.

In the rainy night, the magic device gathered mana, condensing a blazing fireball against the storm: First-circle spell, Burst Fireball.

The fireball, upgraded by Avia, forcibly broke through the suppression of the rain, erupting with intense light and heat, evaporating the droplets, and flying toward the five men gathered to protect the light, leaving a trail of steam.

"Magic device! Dodge!" The five men gathered together were horrified; they never imagined a squire could pull out a magic device.

Their reactions were swift; if it had been an ordinary fireball, they might have managed to dodge it, but unfortunately, this was Avia’s upgraded Burst Fireball.

"Boom!" The violent explosion detonated beside the five men. The one closest to the blast was instantly reduced to a pile of fragments.

Mangled limbs flew into the sky amidst the shockwave, the charred flesh burning for a few seconds before being extinguished by the downpour as they hit the ground.

The remaining four were also hit by the massive impact and sent flying. Three immediately vomited blood mixed with organ fragments and collapsed, dead on the spot.

The last one, who was further away—the very man holding the lamp—was lucky enough to be cushioned by the others and did not die instantly, clutching the kerosene lamp to his chest to protect it.

Even after the lamp hit the ground hard, it did not break. He struggled to spit out a mouthful of blood, his pain and fear igniting a final, savage ferocity.

Clutching the only light source, he roared, "Kill him!" Then, as if he had exhausted his final strength, this luckiest of men went to join those who had become corpses in the rainy night, collapsing to the ground.

The remaining six recovered from their shock, their own ferocity ignited. Wang Yu could not possibly have a second magic device, for if he did, they would surely die today. Therefore, there must not be one!

Fortunately, as they hoped, Wang Yu seemed to have no intention of activating a second magic device.

His two axes had already been thrown, and the third, no longer sharp from excessive hacking, had been discarded earlier.

Under the watchful eyes of the six, Wang Yu drew his longsword, his cold gaze sweeping across them. Though he was but one man, he brought immense terror to these mercenaries.

Not wanting to waste time, Wang Yu charged. The six coordinated perfectly; the sturdiest among them rushed forward to intercept Wang Yu, while the other five spread out, wielding their crossbows and blades.

One to block, others to fire cold arrows—their usual tactic. Wang Yu held his sword hilt, pulling it back during his sprint, and as he approached the burly man blocking his path, he swung his arm with a sudden, violent motion.

The long-distance acceleration pushed the impact of the blade to its peak. As the blades collided, a shower of scorching sparks erupted!

The burly man, struck by the immense force, staggered back. What strength! This was no squire; this was far greater than even he, the strongest intermediate apprentice knight among them.

Gritting his teeth, he held his ground to create an opening for his companions. "Pfft, pfft, pfft!" Five sounds of arrows being fired rang out. Swift, short bolts tore through the air, piercing toward Wang Yu from every angle; cold arrows in the dark were incredibly difficult to guard against.

But it was meaningless. The ripples constantly bursting from his body had already captured the trajectory of every arrow. He leaned, ducked, and dodged the three bolts that grazed him.

Releasing his longsword, the sudden loss of resistance caused the burly man to stumble, which became his death sentence.

Turning and raising his hand, Wang Yu caught an arrow that had been fired from his blind spot. Using the momentum already present, he drove the bolt directly into the burly man’s eye socket, twisting it with force and turning the man’s brain into an organic soup.

The final arrow arrived late. By the time Wang Yu finished his move, it was already closing in on his heart. It seemed too late to react, and indeed, it was too fast for a squire’s physique to dodge, but Wang Yu was more than just a knight.

Void energy surged. Sorcery: Barrier, activate!

Consuming half of his total energy in one go, an invisible barrier blocked the arrow’s path. The bolt struck the invisible wall, struggled to push forward an inch, and finally fell limply to the ground.

Without hesitation, using the momentum from the arrow embedded in the man’s skull, Wang Yu leaned forward, sprinted, and crashed through the heavy rain toward the nearest mercenary.

The mercenary saw the sprinting Wang Yu in the dim light and pointed his blade toward the direction of the charge.

As he approached, Wang Yu lowered his center of gravity, exerted force again, lifted his feet from the ground, and pressed his body against the mud.

A slide! Using the low friction of the wet grass, Wang Yu dodged four arrows flying overhead at an extremely low profile, brushing past his target.

The extreme speed left the mercenary, who lacked the physique of an apprentice knight, with no chance to turn around.

"Pfft!" Wang Yu grabbed a short axe that had fallen near the man and swung it backward. The mercenary, who hadn't even managed to turn, never would again.

The axe buried itself in his skull; although the force wasn't as great due to the backhanded throw, it was enough to shatter his cranium.

The corpse fell. Without a backward glance, Wang Yu leaped from his slide, exerted force again, and accelerated.

He kicked the kerosene lamp—left unguarded while the mercenaries dispersed to snipe him—into pieces. The heavy rain poured down, the flame extinguished, and the butcher vanished into the night once more.

"Ahhhhhhh!" A mercenary fell into despair, raising his sword high, and charged in the direction of Wang Yu with eyes that had barely adjusted to the dark. The desperate charge actually erupted with surprising speed and momentum.

"Pfft." The longsword pierced his chest. Wang Yu’s blade ruthlessly penetrated the charging man, not even requiring much effort.

This fellow, possessed of courage but devoid of direction, practically threw his own chest onto the blade Wang Yu held aloft, as if rushing to embrace a long-lost friend.

Abandoning the sword lodged in the "old friend's" chest, he caught the weapon falling uselessly from the man's grip while still in mid-air.

With a fluid motion, he kicked the corpse to the right to intercept an incoming arrow, then swept his blade upward, parrying two more projectiles before continuing his charge.

The blinding speed of his sprint caused one man to lose sight of Wang Yu; in a panic, the mercenary darted his head left and right, only to find Wang Yu suddenly standing directly before him.

He instinctively raised his blade to strike, but his vision plummeted as his severed head rolled aside; Wang Yu had decapitated him the instant he vaulted from behind.

For the final two, there was no need for evasion; he charged straight ahead, accelerating to his limit before cleaving an incoming arrow in two with a single stroke.

His body slammed into the target mercenary like a truck, sending the man flying like a sack of grain even as the blade pierced his abdomen.

Retrieving the sword from the corpse, he felt an arrow whistle toward his head from behind.

He tilted his neck slightly, the sharp shaft grazing his ear and drawing a bead of blood, but it achieved nothing more, vanishing into the air with a futile, shrieking hiss.

He casually flung the blade into the darkness, and following a shrill cry and the dull thud of a body hitting the ground, the dark, rainy night fell into a silence broken only by the downpour.

Taking two breaths, Wang Yu began to run once more, pausing only to retrieve his own familiar sword from a mercenary's corpse and sheath it behind his back, his form shattering the curtain of rain as he raced across the slaughterhouse.

Dozens of mercenary corpses and pools of blood had turned the estate into a horrific hellscape; as he stepped, it was impossible to tell if the spray beneath his boots was muddy rainwater or crimson gore.

Wang Yu had no intention of resting, his ripples casting every detail of the surroundings into his mind.

Finally, a figure emerged.

A towering frame, encased in heavy, massive full-plate armor that shielded his solid body, with rainwater streaming down the gaps in his steel shell.

Beneath the visor, which revealed only a narrow slit, the eyes did not blink despite the intrusion of the rain; the figure stood there, creating the illusion of a fortress anchored to the earth.

Wang Yu knew that his true opponent for the night had arrived: the Iron-Walled Knight, Oka.

Unfazed by the darkness, Oka seemed to sense something, turning his head toward the direction of Wang Yu's charge.

A smile of expectation touched Wang Yu’s lips; this was a knight, a true knight, and this mad, rainy night was far from over!

Sword drawn, fearless, he charged!

(I must say, the protagonist is quite formidable when it comes to fighting, even if he’s not much else, haha.)