38: Chapter 38 Giving the Demon Some Devil's Delight

That afternoon, those things called blood-cleansing bottles were delivered to the school gate.

Hu Jinsi squatted on the steps outside the guard room, picked one out of the courier box, and held it up to the light to examine it. The bottle was a crudely made glass jar with uneven thickness, sloshing with half a bottle of cloudy, grayish-white liquid, looking like rice-washing water that had been soaking in lime water for three days, with suspicious-looking flocculent matter settled at the bottom.

"Rather than calling them blood-cleansing bottles," Hu Jinsi unscrewed the cap and sniffed it; a pungent, fishy-sweet smell made him lean back, "I'd prefer to call them Demon Happy Water. Look at this color, this texture—it's practically a specialty drink prepared for the Fallen."

"Stop spouting nonsense." Su Wan snatched the bottle from his hand and carefully stuffed it back into the shock-absorbing straw padding. "These things cost ten credits a bottle, don't drop them. If you drop this box, you won't be able to pay for it even if you sell your staff."

The four of them finished clearing the shipment. The size of each blood-cleansing bottle was about the same as the explosive potions and venom potions they had previously opened from treasure chests in the Cold Plains, just enough to fit in the palm of their hand. Actually, Hu Jinsi and the others had considered using those explosive or venom potions to destroy the corpses of the Fallen, but the Cold Plains treasure chests were stingily miserable; adding up all four chests, there were only ten or so such potions, clearly not enough to handle a boss fight, so this plan had to be abandoned.

Fortunately, after grinding dungeons for so many days, they didn't have much else, but they did have some common equipment. Besides Lin Rui, who was equipped with an Alligator Skin Belt with stats, the other three all wore common belts dropped in the Cold Plains around their waists. Although these belts didn't provide any stat bonuses, they at least provided four storage slots. Usually, everyone used them to stuff first-aid potions, bandages, or compressed biscuits, and this week, it was just enough to stuff in these Demon Happy Water, solving the problem of items being hard to retrieve during combat.

The distribution plan was quickly finalized. Hu Jinsi and Liu Betti each kept ten bottles. Hu Jinsi was the main melee fighter and needed to frequently get close to corpses to finish them off; Liu Betti was the ranged damage dealer, and after shooting and killing a Fallen, she often discovered the corpse's location immediately and could conveniently splash a bottle on it.

The surplus was given to Lin Rui and Su Wan. The reason for giving them to Lin Rui was sufficient: only his [Tactical Roll] could allow him to switch weapons and retrieve items from the side waist slots during the roll. Others had to fumble around in their backpacks, and every second counted on the battlefield; they couldn't afford to waste time. At the same time, Lin Rui's two mobility skills also allowed him to quickly rush to the vicinity of the corpses.

Giving them to Su Wan was because she had the most composed combat rhythm in the squad. She could completely take advantage of the gaps in her spell chanting to touch a bottle from her waist and smash it out, unlike the other two melee fighters who needed to rush around and couldn't spare a hand.

"Eighty bottles." Lin Rui stuffed ten blood-cleansing bottles into his belt slots and patted his waist; the bottles clinked together with a crisp sound. "I hope it's enough."

"It's definitely enough," Hu Jinsi shouldered his iron-wrapped long staff. "If it's not, we still have those dozen explosive potions as a backup, though that stuff doesn't feel safe to use."

"Can you hope for something good for once?" Su Wan rolled her eyes.

In addition to replenishing the Demon Happy Water, Lin Rui's equipment also needed a major overhaul.

Last week in the tomb on the east side, the resurrected guardian's rusted greatsword almost split his round shield in half. Both round shields were severely deformed, with dents deep enough to hold water on the shield surface, rendering them completely scrapped. The squad allocated a sum from their reserve funds to replenish him with two new common round shields, and sent his second-hand heavy armor's hinges and the cracks in the breastplate to classmates in life professions to be repaired, which took the better part of the day.

Additionally, in order to prepare for the potential encounter with Rakanishu next week, Lin Rui prepared an all-wood shield at his own expense. The shield was made of spliced lightweight oak, with a layer of wax-soaked canvas wrapped on the surface, without any metal parts.

"Wood doesn't conduct electricity," Lin Rui tapped the shield on the table, making a dull thumping sound. "If Rakanishu really can discharge electricity, this thing is better safe than sorry."

Liu Betti was organizing her quiver nearby and looked up upon hearing this: "Regarding Rakanishu, I heard some new information when I was communicating with other classmates last week. A squad attempted a probing attack on it. According to them, Rakanishu itself doesn't seem to possess any active skills with thunder or lightning attributes. It's just that every time an attack hits it, lightning spark-like attacks fly out from its body, which should be a passive defensive skill."

Hearing this, the squad wasn't completely reassured.

"Passive rebound?" Hu Jinsi frowned. "That's even more troublesome. Active skills can still be predicted and dodged; passive rebound means as long as you hit it, you will definitely get shocked."

He counted on his fingers: "Except for Liu Betti, the main damage dealers in our squad can't launch melee attacks anymore. Lin Rui's short sword, my brass knuckles and long staff—as long as we get close, we have to eat an electric shock. It's equivalent to crippling most of the squad's combat power."

"But if the plan for Bishibosh goes smoothly," Liu Betti added, "we can also use the same plan to clear out the Fallen minions around Rakanishu. Finally, trap Rakanishu in a pit, and the four of us will solve it with ranged attacks. It is not Blood Raven; it doesn't have a bone bow, so if it's trapped in a pit, it's a living target."

"It is said that its movement speed is extremely fast," Lin Rui said in a low voice. "The current contingency plan for Rakanishu's movement speed is at the same level as Blood Raven. If it can also move at high speed, our pit needs to be dug deeper, or we need an additional control chain."

"One step at a time," Hu Jinsi patted the table. "Solve Bishibosh first. Don't think too much about Rakanishu's extra stuff this week."

The night before they set off, Hu Jinsi, Lin Rui, and Su Wan gathered in the living room of Hu Jinsi's home.

On the table were potato chips, soda, and melon seeds bought from a convenience store, and the TV was connected to the official tournament channel. This time they weren't watching the freshman tournament, but a replay of a university team's group battle, a rebroadcast of last year's university league semi-finals.

"Watching this?" Su Wan sat cross-legged on the sofa, hugging a bag of cucumber-flavored potato chips. "University team matches don't have much to do with us, right?"

"Studying in advance," Hu Jinsi twirled the prayer beads on his wrist and slumped onto the sofa. "The University League is the face of every university. Many universities have inherited transcendent profession advancement paths. In case we see a suitable one, it's good to know where to go to 'hug a big thigh'."

The match footage unfolded.

The situation on the field changed in an instant, shifting from the initial five-on-five to four-on-one. That "one" was a female professional wearing an ink-colored dance costume; as her sleeves fluttered, the wide sleeves were like flowing clouds. As for the four on the opposite side, they were a heavy knight clad in a tower shield and plate armor, plus three transcendent professionals holding refined steel long spears, advancing in a triangular formation. The cold light on the spear tips flickered, sealing off all retreat paths.

"Is that... an advancement of the Bard?" The potato chips in Su Wan's hand were forgotten to be put into her mouth.

"Absolute Dancer," Lin Rui stared at the screen, his voice low. "It's also an advancement profession of the Dancer. Public materials have mentioned it, but combat footage is rare."

On the screen, the setting sun was like blood, dyeing the ancient stone bricks dark gold. The Absolute Dancer's four teammates had already been eliminated and teleported out of the arena. The four opponents on the opposite side were closing in step by step. Every time the heavy knight's tower shield landed, it kicked up a circle of dust, and the spear tips of the three spear-wielders were constantly locked onto the dancer's throat and heart.

The air was filled with blood and killing intent. But the Absolute Dancer's aura changed, as if at this moment, this was no longer a competition arena; in the Absolute Dancer's eyes, there were no enemies here, only the audience.

She moved.

There was no roaring, no shouting, just lifting her hands and stretching her arms. A clear, resonant sound of a jade chime rang out of thin air, not from the outside, but originating from the natural ringing of her spiritual power surging. The sound wasn't harsh, but it instantly overwhelmed the noise on the battlefield, making the hearts of the four opponents tremble inexplicably.

Facing the combined thrust of the three spear-wielders, she didn't choose to Block, nor did she retreat. She welcomed them.

Her figure suddenly became illusory. That wasn't just a simple increase in speed, but some kind of spatial folding. Just before the spear tips were about to touch her, her figure slid past the spear shafts like a wisp of green smoke. Her dance steps landed on the mechanical blind spots of the long spears, and every step made a very slight "ding" sound; that was her spiritual power precisely puncturing the stress points of the spear shafts.

There was no blood splattering three feet, only the crisp cracking sound of "crack... crack" echoing continuously. The weapons of the three spear-wielders disintegrated silently along countless fine cracks at the same instant, turning into handfuls of lusterless iron sand, falling with a rustle. They maintained their charging posture, blankly looking at the empty grips in their hands, their expressions like their souls had been extracted.

The heavy knight roared, slamming his tower shield into the ground, attempting to use a shockwave to blast this eerie dancer away. He charged up, the shield pressing down like a small mountain, wanting to crush her completely.

She swirled, her wide sleeves fluttering like an ink chrysanthemum blooming in a storm.

Her toes lightly tapped on the depression in the center of the shield, the only tiny flaw in the heavy knight's absolute defense. A strange buzzing sound replaced the sound of metal colliding. The knight only felt an irresistible rotational force transmitted along the tower shield; his proud, immense strength was like a clay ox entering the sea, instead being returned twofold by this gentle dancing force. His massive body spun out of control on the spot like a spinning top, his heavy armor let out an unbearable groan, and finally, he knelt down with a crash, smashing the stone bricks with one knee, completely losing his balance.

When the last enemy struggled to stand up from the dizziness, she stopped.

Standing in the very center of the arena, arms stretched out, like a crane folding its wings. The noise of the whole world seemed to have been pressed on the mute button at this moment.

She didn't make any sound, just gently stamped her foot.

A translucent ripple of spiritual power, with her as the center, swept across the entire arena like a circle of spreading water ripples. This ripple didn't carry a trace of killing intent, but it caused all existence that came into contact with it to fall into absolute stillness.

The knight's wide-eyed glare froze; the spear-wielder's terrified expression petrified. There were no wounds on their bodies, but the material structure that made up their flesh and armor was rewritten at this moment.

There was no explosion, no blood mist. Like a stone statue weathered for thousands of years, and like burnt-out ashes, the four powerful enemies lost all their forms in an instant. Together with their armor and weapons, they turned into countless crystal-clear light dust, slowly rising and drifting in the sunset's afterglow, and finally disappeared silently, as if they had never existed.

The dust settled, and the arena was as empty as a grave.

She panted slightly, fine beads of sweat oozing from her temples—a physiological reaction after continuous dancing. Her dress was still neat, spotless, and didn't even get stained with a trace of blood. She stood quietly in place, looking at the direction where her teammates fell, with no joy of victory in her eyes, only a faint melancholy of the song ending and the crowd dispersing.

She was just dancing.

As for those figures who disappeared because of her dance, they were just dust falling naturally when the movement ended.

The picture froze, and the whole audience was silent.

Hu Jinsi swallowed the melon seed kernel in his mouth and was silent for three seconds before speaking: "...Beautiful, it is beautiful. But this is a profession where teammates are sacrificed and magic power is boundless. Most people probably don't have the courage to be her teammate."

"It's too extreme," Lin Rui had already taken out his phone to look up information, his brows knitted into a knot. "I just read the public materials. For that last skill of hers, once released, she herself will drop ten levels. This is just a university league; it's not worth it. If she had this awareness, it would be better to go find a World Cancer defense zone and release it; that would be called putting things to good use."

"How is this an ordinary university competition?" Hu Jinsi leaned back on the sofa, his fingers tapping on the armrest. "This was last year's semi-final. As long as they break into the top three, they can choose a quasi-legendary weapon. You tell me if this sacrifice is worth it or not for them?"

What he didn't say was that in his previous life, there were people who would rather cry in a BMW than laugh on the back of a bicycle. There was no question of whether it was worth it or not; the adult world is about mutual consent.

Lin Rui didn't express any more opinions. He turned his head and looked at Su Wan, with a kind of seriousness in his gaze that was rarely seen, even with a bit of stubbornness.

"Wanwan, promise me," his voice wasn't loud, but every word hit hard. "Never choose this advancement. We will live well; this advancement is not suitable for us. Our squad's style has always been based on the principle that living is everything; there is no need to sacrifice too much for so-called winning. Even if we don't study at the same university in the future, you must never take up such a dangerous profession. The people who formulated this tactic are simply too crazy."

Su Wan held her bag of potato chips, stunned by his sudden solemnity. She looked down at the lonely, standing Absolute Dancer on the screen, then at Lin Rui's tightly pursed lips, and nodded gently: "... I promise you. I don't want to be that kind of class that can only use its ultimate when all teammates are dead; I want to be a Bard who can heal everyone and keep everyone alive while running dungeons."

Hu Jinsi watched this scene from the side, not interrupting, just tipping the bag of melon seeds into his mouth, only to find it was already empty.

It was another Sunday, the entrance to the Cold Plains dungeon.

A pale blue vortex slowly swirled at the edge of the wasteland, and the wind emerged from the rift, carrying the familiar scent of sulfur and rotting soil. The Jack-of-All-Trades Squad followed Liu Betti, nodding and greeting the familiar, friendly faces one by one. Some had listened to the tactical briefing together last week, some had exchanged information at the dungeon entrance, and a few were Liu Betti's former temporary teammates.

Hu Jinsi noticed that, as expected, all the teams preparing to enter the Cold Plains dungeon this week had brought extra engineer shovels.

"Looks like everyone is planning to dig holes and give it a try," Su Wan whispered, the strap of her lyre swaying gently in the wind. "It seems that even if they don't say it out loud, everyone has their own ideas."

"Liu Betti explained it so thoroughly," Hu Jinsi said, mounting his bicycle, his boot spurs clicking crisply against the pedals. "Bringing a shovel doesn't cost anything, so who wouldn't want to try? I just wonder, if we successfully run the 'Demon Happy Water' tactic this week, will the Demon Happy Water produced by the Moon-Under Demon Castle sell out directly here in Wei City next week?"

"It would be good if it sold out," Lin Rui said expressionlessly, checking the blood-cleansing bottle at his waist. "It would mean we're leading the trend."

"The result of leading the trend is rising prices," Hu Jinsi said, pedaling once, the wheels crushing over the gravel road. "By then, if it goes from ten credit points to fifty, we'll be the ones losing out."

Entering the dungeon, the four of them didn't ride their bikes straight to the Underground Cave of the Cold Plains like last week. They first searched the outskirts of the Cold Plains and soon found a lone Fallen Shaman, along with its four loyal Fallen minions.

The test began.

Liu Betti stood thirty meters away and shot an arrow through the knee of a Fallen. The little demon screamed and fell to the ground, and Hu Jinsi immediately rushed up, pulled a blood-cleansing bottle from his waist, uncorked it, and splashed the murky liquid onto the corpse.

"Sizzle—"

The moment the grayish-white liquid touched the dark red skin, a faint wisp of blue smoke rose up. The Fallen's corpse twitched violently, as if it were a bug splashed with strong acid, and the demonic runes on the surface of its skin quickly faded and peeled off.

"It deals damage!" Su Wan's eyes lit up. "It can even burn smoke out of a corpse?"

"Not just on corpses," Liu Betti said, shooting down another living Fallen. Hu Jinsi took the opportunity to smash a bottle onto its back. The blood-cleansing bottle shattered, and the liquid splashed all over the Fallen, which let out a sharp scream as several wisps of white smoke rose from its back, as if it had been burned by a branding iron, its movements visibly sluggish for a moment.

"It also deals damage to living creatures," Lin Rui noted, recording it. "But one bottle won't kill it; it can probably only burn off about half its health. Its main effect is to prevent resurrection."

The four continued testing. Ten minutes later, the Fallen Shaman tried to resurrect the first Fallen corpse that had been splashed with the blood-cleansing bottle. The Shaman raised its wooden staff, and dark red light shot from the tip, enveloping the corpse, but the light seemed to hit an invisible barrier, bounced off the surface of the corpse a few times, and finally dissipated. The Shaman looked at its wooden staff blankly, then at the corpse, and let out a confused chattering sound.

"One bottle prevents it for ten minutes," Hu Jinsi said, looking at his pocket watch. "Within ten minutes, the Shaman has the casting animation but cannot resurrect it."

Then they tested two bottles. After the second bottle was splashed on, the prevention time did not stack to twenty minutes, but was extended by about fifty percent, which was fifteen minutes.

"Diminishing returns," Lin Rui said, drawing a curve in his notebook. "One bottle has the best cost-effectiveness, two bottles are for insurance, and there's no need to test three or more."

The four squatted on the ground, surrounding the Fallen corpse that had been splashed with three blood-cleansing bottles (the first bottle didn't kill it), and then started to estimate the enemy's forces.

According to their calculations, Bishibosh was surrounded by about four to five Fallen Shamans. Each Fallen Shaman was followed by four to five Fallen. In other words, there could be at most five Shamans and twenty-five Fallen minions.

"If it's one bottle per corpse," Su Wan said, biting the end of her pen, "twenty-five Fallen corpses means twenty-five bottles. Five Shamans, one bottle each, that's thirty bottles in total."

"Add five more for emergencies, two bottles for each Fallen Shaman," Hu Jinsi added. "It's our first time fighting it, so let's be safe. Once we're experienced, I estimate we won't even need to save a share for the Fallen; just throwing five bottles at the Fallen Shaman's corpse will be enough."

"Thirty-five bottles, it's better to be steady for the first time," Liu Betti nodded. "We brought eighty bottles in, which is more than enough. The remaining forty bottles (we used 5 for testing) are enough to deal with Rakanishu—it couldn't possibly be surrounded by forty or fifty Fallen minions too, right?"

"Unless it teams up with Bishibosh," Hu Jinsi grinned. "Then we'll just have to admit defeat."

The plan was viable. The four mounted their bicycles again and began searching for traces of Bishibosh on the ground of the Cold Plains.

Fighting a boss requires a burst of momentum. Once that spirit is lost, the next time is hard to say, especially for a quick battle that needs to be controlled within fifteen minutes.

Bishibosh's features were simply too conspicuous. It and the surrounding Fallen Shamans held torches, making them the most glaring lighthouses in this dark and cold wasteland. The cold, grayish-white ground and the Fallen's dark red skin formed a stark contrast; it would be very difficult not to notice them.

But the squad still spent nearly an hour running a circle around the perimeter of Bishibosh's activity area, clearing out other skeletons, hungry dead, and even another group of lone Fallen nearby. Only after confirming that there were no enemies in the vicinity that could disrupt them did they begin preparing to deal with the main target.

As usual, Lin Rui began the preparations first. But obviously, this time he was not planning to dig any holes.

He took out his enchanted engineer shovel and quickly built several simple fortifications around the perimeter of the area where Bishibosh was currently wandering. The half-cover fortifications were scattered, five meters apart from each other, forming an arc-shaped defensive line. At the same time, he took several bags of sand from his backpack and piled them in front of the fortifications, forming low buffer slopes.

"Sand can absorb the shockwave of an explosion," Lin Rui explained while piling it up. "It's more effective than hollow ground. When Bishibosh self-destructs at the end, we can hide behind the fortifications with the sand slopes in front to Block and reduce the first wave of impact damage."

"Professional," Hu Jinsi gave a thumbs up.

Everything was ready. The squad members checked the time. The hands of their watches were clearly visible under the eerie green sky.

If all went as expected, in this time-limited battle, they would launch attacks on Bishibosh and its minions from different directions. Liu Betti would occupy the high ground on the north side, responsible for prioritizing long-range sniping of the Fallen Shamans; Lin Rui would be behind the main fortification on the west side, responsible for splashing the blood-cleansing bottles on the corpses of the Fallen Shamans that Liu Betti sniped; Su Wan would be near Liu Betti, responsible for splashing the nearby Fallen corpses; Hu Jinsi would launch the first assault from the east side, responsible for the first round of attacks and drawing Bishibosh's fire.

The four dispersed around Bishibosh, like a net slowly tightening. Each of them had blood-cleansing bottles hanging at their waists, holding their respective weapons in their hands.

Hu Jinsi squatted behind a wind-eroded boulder on the east side, laying his iron-clad long staff across his knees. He took a deep breath, feeling the flow of Qi in his meridians, his eyes locked on the bloated, dark red figure in the distance.

Bishibosh seemed to have sensed something; it stopped, and its bloated head slowly turned to the east. The wooden staff in its hand tapped the ground unconsciously, and the dark red crystal at the tip of the staff rippled with a wave of scorching heat.

Hu Jinsi looked down at his pocket watch.

The second hand was ticking.

The second hand was about to reach the predetermined alignment, and the second boss battle in the Cold Plains began.

———————————— I am a divider line ————————————

[Absolute Dancer]

[Core Class Role: Aloof Dancer of Laws. She is not a team support, not a crowd control master; she is the Arbiter of the Battlefield's End. Her power stems from absolute loneliness.]

[Class Description: The world sees only the clashing of swords, not the fluttering of rainbow-colored robes. To you, the battlefield is not a place of slaughter, but your own solo stage. Every turn you take is the trajectory of the stars; every bow is the breathing of heaven and earth. You do not think of killing, but the dance is not finished, and the observers have already perished. Only when you are completely alone can you dance that Dance of the End that rewrites the rules of all things.]

[Class Trait: Your dance is the law. While teammates are still alive, you are constrained by mundane bonds and cannot display your true dance. Only when all teammates have lost their ability to fight do you break free and enter the "Absolute Dance State." In this state, your dance steps are cause and effect; all who enter your dance floor perish following your rhythm.

Shackled State (Normal): As long as you have at least 1 combat-capable teammate, all your "Dance Skills" are treated as mundane performances, your damage is only 1/4 of normal, and you cannot trigger the "Rule Rewrite" effect.]

[Absolute Dance State: Triggered when all your teammates enter a downed, unconscious, dead, or incapacitated state. At this time, your Charisma (CHA) is temporarily doubled, all dance skills ignore rule restrictions, and they no longer consume resources.]

[Class Skill — Solo Dance · Wandering Dragon (Absolute Dance State): You are immune to sneak attacks and can pass through enemies' bodies or obstacles (like a ghost) when moving.

(Unlocked with level increase) Every time you move past an enemy or complete a dance move beside them, you deal damage to them (based on Charisma).

(Unlocked with level increase) The enemy does not feel any pain until they fall, feeling only a gentle breeze brushing their face.]

[Class Skill — Dance Music · Fragment (Absolute Dance State): You deploy a 25-meter radius "Exclusive Dance Floor," and all enemies within range must make a Will saving throw every 6 seconds. Those who fail will involuntarily move to your rhythm (unable to attack, unable to cast spells, and can only perform meaningless "backup dancing").

(Unlocked with level increase) Your dance moves distort the stability of matter. The enemies "backup dancing" for you will have their armor, weapons, and even bones silently separate and disintegrate along the invisible patterns of your dance steps (accelerated durability consumption).]

[Class Skill — Absolute Dance · All Laws Return to Dust (Absolute Dance State) (Core): Your Dance of the End; you transform into an uncatchable trail of light, and wherever the light trail passes, reality is rewritten.

Effect: An explosion with a 55-meter radius centered on yourself; regardless of friend or foe, all living creatures (including yourself, teammates, enemies, neutral creatures) and objects (including weapons, armor, walls, ground) within the range suffer the effect of Disintegrate (requires a check). You lose 10 levels of class experience (level drops by 10).]

[Class Change/Advancement Conditions:

Class Requirement: Eastern Dancer / Bard.

Attribute Requirements: Charisma (CHA) ≥ 18 (your dance moves already possess divine charm), Wisdom (WIS) ≥ 17 (able to perceive the essence of all things)

Feat Requirements: Master Performer (or equivalent feat), Mobile (proving your dance steps have transcended mundane obstacles).

Ritual Requirement: In a crucial team mission, all your teammates (at least 4) fall one after another (death or permanent disability) to protect you, or because your "mundane dance" failed to save them in time. In the pool of blood and despair, you realize that "bonds are the shackles of dance steps, and emotions are the cage of spiritual power." You stop crying and put away the smile that pleases others. You look at your Fallen teammates, and there is no longer sorrow or joy in your heart, only absolute silence. You realize: "The dance is not finished, and the observers have already perished." Your dance is no longer a performance dedicated to the audience, but a ritual for the end of all things.]