Chapter 33: Consuming the Fruit at the Cold Pool!

Years of experience in online gaming kept me from losing my composure at this critical juncture; calmness is the prerequisite for self-preservation.

The crisp "clink" of metal colliding still echoed in my ears. The gale force generated by the rapidly thrusting long halberds tousled my hair, and I could almost feel the icy touch of the blades against my neck. I had no doubt that if those weapons advanced even an inch further, I would be decapitated in the next moment. In that split second, with no time to think, I reacted instinctively and threw myself flat onto the ground. The weight above me suddenly vanished; there was no spray of blood, only a few strands of black hair drifting down. A jolt of terror surged through me. In that brush with death, I had been lucky to dodge in time!

Before I could even celebrate surviving that fatal blow, the force pulling on the silk ribbons wrapped around my legs intensified. My legs were being stretched so far apart I felt they were about to be split in two. The tearing pain in my muscles made me grit my teeth. Damn it, was I really going to be torn apart here? I tightened my grip on the Crocodile Bone Sword, ready to slash through the ribbons, but the air currents from the pursuing halberds were already sweeping across my back. With my legs bound, I couldn't leap away. In a panic, I clumsily brought my bone sword back to parry, barely managing to catch the two crossed halberds striking down at me.

The massive impact of the clashing weapons fractured the web of my hand. No matter how much strength I exerted, the sharp tips of the halberds inevitably pierced my armor. The intense pain of the blades entering my flesh surged through me like a tidal wave. The Diamond Helmet provided a superior 95% simulation, and all sensations in this game were fed back to the brain at 50% of their real-life intensity.

"Ah!..." My roar of fury rolled through the low corridor like muffled thunder, the sound lingering in the air. When had I ever been so pathetic, left helpless and at the mercy of others? It was the greatest humiliation of my life! My "Haoran Mental Cultivation" surged through every meridian like a rolling tide. The rapid expansion made my entire body feel as if it were about to burst. Coupled with the fresh agony of my wounds, the sharp pain was magnified infinitely through every nerve ending. It felt like being burned by fire and bitten by a thousand ants, driving me to the brink of fainting. Just then, a system notification rang out: "Congratulations, your skill has broken through the critical threshold. Haoran Mental Cultivation has successfully reached Grandmaster level."

"Bang!" One of the ribbons suddenly snapped. Pulled by the remaining tension, my body slammed hard against the stone wall. I saw stars dancing before my eyes; my HP, already battered twice, dropped to a mere 165 out of over 1300. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the torch I had dropped in my panic; it was still burning, and right beside it lay the remnants of the silk ribbon. It turned out that when my Haoran Mental Cultivation broke through its bottleneck, the agonizing pain had made me struggle wildly. The bronze maiden statues couldn't hold on, causing the ribbon to touch the torch and burn through. With one ribbon severed, my movements were no longer completely restricted.

I quickly swallowed two health potions and a Strength Pill to restore my status. The warrior's halberd had been deflected by my Grandmaster-level Haoran Mental Cultivation when I broke through. Now, the two bronze warrior statues held their halberds diagonally, preparing for the next round of attacks, while the bronze maiden whose ribbon had snapped drew a delicate, slender sword from her wide sleeve. The yellowish blade emitted a chilling murderous aura in the dim light as she lunged at my chest. The other maiden remained tethered to the ribbon, showing no sign of letting up.

I calmly scanned my surroundings. While the bronze statues were not as agile as real humans, the four of them had cornered me against the wall in this narrow corridor. Taking advantage of the moment they were preparing their attacks, I cast an Appraisal spell: Bronze Guard, Level 50; Bronze Maiden, Level 50. Alas, my high-level Appraisal could not reveal their detailed data. What a disaster! In this cramped space, my speed advantage was completely negated. To survive, I had no choice but to rely on potions and fight to the death.

The two halberds came whistling through the air again in a cross-pattern. The military coordination techniques were indeed extraordinary—practical, ruthless, and minimalist, with every move designed to kill. No matter how I dodged, I couldn't evade their follow-up strikes. Attack is the best defense; the white glow of the Crocodile Bone Sword flashed as I struck horizontally, clashing precisely against the intersection of the two halberds in a spark-filled instant.

Just as I tried to shift my feet to avoid the maiden's cunning slender sword, the ribbon binding my right leg gave a lethal, violent tug, making it impossible for me to move an inch. The sword, agile as a viper, pierced accurately into my lower abdomen. The maiden’s insidious, internal force rampaged through my body, the cold blade driving deep into my organs, viciously intending to run me through and pin me to the stone wall.

Just as I was sinking into despair, lamenting that all was lost, a surge of warmth washed over the wound, and the slender sword was repelled by the Haoran Mental Cultivation within me. I had forgotten this special effect of the skill: the Grandmaster-level Haoran Mental Cultivation didn't increase attack power further, but it added a 5% damage reflection. By returning 5% of the damage back to the opponent, it could deflect their weapons, effectively preventing my wounds from deepening.

It takes longer to describe than it actually took; I blocked the warriors' attacks and the maiden's sword almost simultaneously. Realizing the marvelous utility of the Haoran Mental Cultivation, I swung the bone sword violently, knocking aside the entangling halberds and winning a precious window of time. Without hesitation, I slashed downward like lightning. My foot suddenly felt loose—I had severed the hand of the maiden holding the ribbon. Since they were made of bronze, there was no blood, only metal.

I moved with agility, and while the bronze formation was in chaos, I squeezed through the space between the two warriors, taking care to slash one of them as I passed. I reached the entrance of the corridor, still feeling a lingering fear. My HP was now less than a quarter, my hair was disheveled, and my armor was damaged—a truly pathetic sight.

The flickering firelight cast the huge shadows of the four bronze figures as they slowly pursued me. The eerie, deathly silence of the tomb was punctuated only by their rhythmic, heavy footsteps, just like a supernatural entrance in a horror movie. The injured warrior and maiden moved with steady, unfazed strides. Their expressionless faces held only a cold, desolate air—they were truly bronze automatons! At least they weren't impervious to weapons; otherwise, I would have had to open a coffin and run.

The spacious machine room allowed me to use my agility freely, and my confidence soared. With this advantage, dealing with these sluggish bronze statues was child's play. The fusion of my high-level Haoran Mental Cultivation and Level 2 Swordplay actually produced a faint golden glow. A brilliant golden moon danced across the bronze statues as I unleashed the basic sword techniques—slashing, sweeping, parrying, thrusting, and blocking—one after another upon them. The dismembered bronze statues, unable to function, finally collapsed into a pile of scrap metal under my sword.

The sound of equipment dropping rang out repeatedly. Just as I was about to stoop to pick them up, the system notification sounded again: "Congratulations, your skill has broken through the critical threshold. Basic Swordplay has reached Grandmaster level." Hahaha, I was on a roll today! Two skills breaking through to Grandmaster level back-to-back. As the saying goes, you reap what you sow; the suffering was worth it! The Grandmaster level of Basic Swordplay not only increased sword attack power by 5% but also added a 3% chance for a critical hit. Once I reached Level 40 and equipped the Earth Spirit Armor, the combined 6% critical hit rate would be comparable to an assassin's!

I picked up the items dropped by the bronze statues. There were two silver-tier weapons: Sleeve Swords, Level 30, Strength requirement 60, Agility requirement 35, single-hand attack 30-48, dual-wield attack 62-96, attack speed 5%, with the skill "Flying Sword" (can attack distant targets when tethered by the ribbons attached to the swords). Weight 48, durability 600/600. The two-finger-wide, pale yellow blades had a faint green glow; they must have been forged from an alloy, as mere brass could never be crafted into silver-tier equipment. The sword and hilt combined were only three feet long. Although their attack power was higher than my bone sword, such delicate women's weapons were extremely awkward for me to use; I couldn't fully unleash their power.

The other weapon was the long halberd used by the bronze warrior: Armor-Piercing Halberd, Level 35, Strength requirement 90, attack 78-119, attack increased by 5%, additional 10% damage against heavy armor. Weight 75, durability 700/700. The metallic luster of the halberd was very similar to the Armor-Piercing Arrows; I suspected they were cast from the same alloy. If I had the chance, I would have to ask the old blacksmith about this casting method.

After a profound lesson, I dared not rush forward blindly. After several experiments, I finally understood why the bronze statues triggered. Every time I reached the oil lamp, it would automatically sense the light from my torch and ignite itself, and its light was the trigger that awakened the four surrounding bronze statues. The 110-meter-long corridor contained 24 bronze statues, all of which I lured to the machine room and destroyed one by one.

Over two hours later, I had cleared them all out. These bronze statues were my gods of wealth; at worst, each group dropped a piece of bronze equipment, and each statue consistently dropped 5 gold coins. I couldn't help but sigh, wishing this were the First Emperor's Mausoleum, with an endless supply of terracotta warriors for me to harvest. Even if I had to deal with these expressionless bronze men every day, I would be more than happy to do so.

At the end of the corridor was a small hall—small only in comparison to the magnificent imperial palaces seen on television. The hall was about 200 square meters. In the center of the ten-meter-high ceiling, eight dazzling night-luminescent pearls were embedded in a circle, like a bright, clear moon, casting a soft light that illuminated every corner of the hall. The colorful landscape murals on both sides were clear and intricate.

The spacious hall was empty except for a desk on a dais directly in front of me. Behind the desk, sitting upon an intricate leopard-skin armchair, was an imposing Undead General. The massive black sword, wrapped in a dark green scabbard, rested calmly on the desk. To his left was a small, closed red-wood door; judging by its exquisite craftsmanship, the room behind it surely held extraordinary treasures.

Just as I was looking around, searching for the Undead Army, the Undead General already held his sword, standing in a majestic posture. His lifeless, withered face actually revealed a hint of a strange smile. I couldn't tell if it was mockery, disdain, approval, or relief. He stood there leisurely, his posture upright, radiating an innate sense of pride and unforced authority. A surging pressure rushed toward me, making it difficult to breathe, like the terrifying feeling of having nowhere to run when facing a charging army. My spirit plummeted, and I couldn't even muster a thought of resistance. The sense of powerlessness left me deeply discouraged. If not for my Haoran Mental Cultivation automatically circulating to resist the bulk of the pressure, my will would have collapsed, and I would have turned and fled. I cautiously held my ground at the corridor entrance, staring nervously at the Undead General's every move.

The Undead General slowly stepped down from the dais; his withered, corpse-like body moved as naturally as any living person, perhaps even more gracefully. He held his greatsword loosely, showing no signs of attacking me, which eased my mind slightly, and I braced myself. Perhaps he meant me no harm; if he had truly unleashed his overwhelming pressure, he could have crushed me instantly. The Undead General stopped about 10 meters in front of me and pointed his withered right finger at my Crocodile Bone Sword, making a gesture for me to draw it.

I was baffled by his strange action. Why did he want me to draw my sword? Did he think he was impervious to weapons and wanted me to test it? I would be happy to try. But if he had been trapped in the ghost realm for so long that he was bored and wanted me to stay as his sparring partner, and if he took a liking to me and imprisoned me here, I would be a living dead man in this sunless tomb forever, becoming his burial offering. A duel was out of the question; I had no doubt he had the power to kill me in one hit.

Just as I was lost in wild speculation, his peerless pressure locked onto me once more. Under that psychic influence, any slight movement on my part would trigger a world-shattering blow from him. Damn it! I was being threatened by a ghost! And to think I was hailed as the "Number One Player in the China Region"—I was truly bringing shame to all players. With no other choice, I drew my sword and assumed a low, slanted stance, waiting for his reaction.