Chapter 225: Priest Niam
Out of caution, Zhou Ning had already switched his title to that of the Phantom Thief, which was better suited for disguise and infiltration, making his movements in the darkness seem even more elusive.
He didn't recklessly charge in with an all-out assault, but instead stood there and waited. Even with the Lucky Clover's effect, he still had to do everything he could to avoid being targeted by Leoncavallo's Four-Act Opera.
After about five minutes, Zhou Ning finally began to move. Using Observation Haki, he had more or less pinpointed the patrol routes of several groups of Cursed God Cultists inside.
The manor had been built back during the Kingdom of Falric, now overgrown with weeds but still quite large—larger, in fact, than Harrison Rivers' manor. Several statues from the ancient Falric era stood inside, two of which were old acquaintances of Zhou Ning: Brynd Morton, the bird-headed, human-bodied founder of the Courage Family, and Ivan Rivers, the lion-headed, human-bodied figure. Judging from their presence, the place clearly had a long history.
Keeping himself concealed, Zhou Ning vaulted lightly over the fence on one side of the manor and landed silently on the ground, moving nimbly in the shadows. A squad of black-robed Cursed God Cultists came toward him, and he quickly slipped into the darkness to watch them approach.
Above their heads floated IDs—they were players.
As they drew nearer, Zhou Ning caught snippets of their conversation.
"Have you learned Demon Transformation yet?"
"Not yet. Damn, that move looks so cool when the NPCs use it. My panel says I'm still 42 contribution points short. I'm planning to save up 300 points at once and trade for it directly."
"I'm more than 70 points short. No idea how much longer we'll have to keep doing these boring patrol dailies."
"Hey, if Wayne Sturwell ends up fighting the Cursed God Cult, who do we help?"
"Definitely the Cursed God Cult. What, you think we'd let Wayne Sturwell live? No way—kill him without a second thought. We're already more than halfway to the points we need for the skill. Who cares about factions or whether the world's destroyed? Not our problem."
"True enough."
Zhou Ning: …
Hiding in the shadows, Zhou Ning tugged at the corner of his mouth. Players really were shameless creatures. Just a few days, and they'd already defected? And worse—they were even plotting to kill him? In that case, they couldn't blame him for being ruthless.
Based on his gaming experience, the Old City resurrection point wasn't far—no more than ten minutes away—just enough time for him to kill his way in and out.
"Perfect. I haven't killed any players in a while," Zhou Ning murmured with a smile.
As the players came close, Zhou Ning didn't hesitate. He drew the sword at his waist and dove into their midst, a dazzling burst of sword light erupting instantly.
A flash of cold steel, a spray of blood—two players were gone in an instant, disappearing in white light. Even top-tier players didn't have more than 400 HP, and with Zhou Ning's current attack power—though his Strength attribute wasn't high enough to maximize melee damage—the boost from Master-level Basic Swordsmanship made his strikes devastating. Killing them was effortless.
A few more flashes of white light, and the unlucky group revived two kilometers away at the Old City respawn point, checking their battle logs with bewildered expressions.
"What the hell? How did I die?"
"Who attacked us?!"
They quickly looked at their combat messages.
[Wayne Sturwell's normal attack dealt 465 damage to you.]
[You died.]
[Wayne Sturwell's normal attack dealt 379 damage to you.]
[You died.]
The players were stunned. Seriously? Talk about speaking of the devil.
…
After cutting down the players, Zhou Ning sheathed his sword. His Observation Haki immediately picked up another squad of Cursed God Cultists on patrol—the leader's aura was abnormally strong, and strangely… very familiar.
A dozen seconds later, the group appeared. This time, they weren't players. The leader was a black-robed priest with his entire head hidden under a hood. His figure… did seem familiar, though Zhou Ning couldn't place him.
"Who's there?"
The priest was highly alert and quickly noticed Zhou Ning as he passed, turning his gaze toward him.
Forget it… hiding all the time wasn't his style anyway.
Zhou Ning stepped out from the darkness, drawing his twin pistols—Ebony and Ivory—and pulled the triggers.
Two bullets roared from the barrels, wreathed in flames and silver light thanks to his Silver Bullet passive, slamming into the priest's body with a sizzle that made him stagger back a step, his HP dropping noticeably.
"Your Ripple Shot dealt 726 damage to Priest Niam!"
"Wayne Sturwell? It's you?!"
Clutching his wound, the priest looked at Zhou Ning with a mix of shock and hatred. A black light flared, and his flesh began to squirm—healing completely in moments.
Through the hood, Zhou Ning saw his face and hands, crisscrossed with sutured wounds, his skin a sickly gray-green—an undead in a living corpse state.
A wicked black flame flared in the priest's hand, morphing into a black-flame spear that he hurled at Zhou Ning.
Zhou Ning: …
And just who exactly are you? Do I know you?
Trying to recall his identity, Zhou Ning's gaze shifted to a nearby statue. Without hesitation, he spent the stamina needed—next moment, Brynd Morton, in his black formal suit and bird-headed, human-bodied form, leapt from the statue's base in flight, diving toward the priest and reaching out to grab the black spear aimed at Zhou Ning.
The statue… turned into a real person?
Everyone present was stunned by the unbelievable sight.
Reviving Brynd Morton had cost about a third of Zhou Ning's stamina bar. His ability wasn't as strong as Blue-Eyes White Dragon's, and could probably last only three to four minutes.
A burning mark seared into Brynd Morton's palm, but he still wrenched the black spear around and hurled it back at the priest.
Clang!
A black shield shimmered over the priest's body, blocking the returning spear.
Meanwhile, Zhou Ning didn't pause. He slid forward, his twin guns blazing, reaping the lives of two cultists like a scythe harvesting wheat. Spinning, he aimed at the priest and fired three rounds in a line—[Ripple Shot]! [Fatal Countershot]! [Haki-Infused Shot]!—three powerful skills fired in rapid succession, each slamming into the priest's body.
Damage numbers leapt one after another, the priest screaming in agony. Dark light gathered again in his hands, but Zhou Ning gave him no chance to retaliate. With Brynd Morton's continuous assault and Zhou Ning's relentless gunfire, the priest's HP plummeted.
"Level 56 Dark Warlock, Spirit 127 points… actually pretty strong. Too bad you ran into me."
Zhou Ning glanced at his panel, clicking his tongue in amusement.
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