417: Chapter 417 The Rules of the Martial World: One-on-One Duels

Below, the players who had wiped out the scouts didn't stop for a moment.

"There's more mist ahead! There must be a big mob inside!"

"Push, push! Don't keep God You waiting!"

"Mage corps! Use AOE skills to carpet-bomb the area! Don't let a single mob escape!"

The players had completely lost themselves in the bloodlust.

For these creatures known as the "Fourth Calamity," as long as it has a health bar, they'd kill a god for you.

Now that the system explicitly told them killing mobs yielded massive rewards, it was more effective than a shot of adrenaline.

A large number of players flooded into the gray mist.

Wherever they passed, not a blade of grass remained.

Traps hidden in the mist? Thief players simply stepped on them, tanking the damage with the Priests' group heals.

Monster camps lurking in the mist? Before the mobs could even spawn, dozens of Berserkers leveled the camp with Whirlwind Slash.

Standing on the disc, Chen You watched as the mist on the sandbox below was cleared at an utterly unreasonable speed.

What should have been a step-by-step, strategic real-time strategy map had been forcefully turned into a mindless hack-and-slash game by these players.

"This money was well spent," Chen You leaned against the edge of the disc with satisfaction.

Meanwhile.

At the deepest part of the sandbox, the center of the mist.

A massive bone castle emitting a dim glow stood tall on the barren land.

On the castle's throne sat a Death Knight clad in black heavy armor, holding a giant scythe.

He was the final boss of this "Trial of Virtue," Ancient Lord Tariras.

According to the trial's laws, he would gradually dispatch stronger troops based on the trial-taker's progress, exerting the most brutal pressure.

Until the trial-taker collapsed in despair or grew through adversity.

Tariras slowly opened his eyes, a crimson light flickering in his sockets.

"Contact has been lost with the first wave of scouts," his raspy voice echoed through the empty hall.

"It seems this trial-taker has some skill."

Tariras stood up and walked to the strategic sandbox in the hall.

According to the protocol, he should now send the second wave—one hundred Ghouls and two Meat Wagons—to put some pressure on the trial-taker who should be struggling to build fortifications.

He raised his hand, preparing to issue the command.

Suddenly, the bluestone floor of the hall shook violently.

Boom! Boom!

Muffled explosions came from outside the castle, accompanied by chaotic battle cries.

"What's going on?" Tariras snapped his head around, looking at the castle's closed steel gates.

"Report—!" A blood-covered Gargoyle stumbled into the hall, crashing heavily onto the floor. "Lord! This is bad!"

"What's the panic!" Tariras barked coldly.

"The trial-taker's troops are attacking? What unit types are they using? Archers or Knights? How many are there?"

The Gargoyle raised its head trembling, its voice filled with extreme terror.

"I... I don't know what units they are! They're wearing skirts, holding greatswords, dancing while casting magic! There's... there's an endless sea of them!"

"What?" Tariras was stunned.

Before he could react, an incredibly arrogant roar came from outside the castle.

"Listen up, people inside! You're surrounded! Hand over your gear and XP, and we'll leave your corpses intact!"

Then, hundreds and thousands of voices roared in unison: "For Big Shot Chen You! For contribution points! Tear down this shitty house!"

Boom!

The bone castle's steel gates, claimed to be able to withstand a dragon's breath, were blown open with a large hole amidst a barrage of colorful magic.

Through that hole, Tariras saw the most absurd scene of his long undead life.

A half-orc wearing a tutu was dribbling an unknown sphere, slamming into the city wall with an extremely bizarre posture.

Accompanied by an "Iron Mountain Lean," cracks actually appeared on the sturdy wall.

Behind the half-orc, thousands of freakish creatures were staring at him with bloodshot eyes, like starving wolves.

That look was as if they were staring at a walking mountain of gold.

The hand Tariras used to grip his scythe felt a tremor for the first time.

This is a trial-taker?

This is a bunch of bandits raiding a village!

In mid-air, Chen You looked at the battle points rapidly ticking up on his control panel and casually clicked the flashing golden exclamation mark at the top.

[Warning: According to the ancient Covenant of Virtue, Ancient Lord Tariras has activated the Final Rite!]

[System low-level protocols are being revised...]

Chen You narrowed his eyes, looking at a massive void rift that suddenly tore open above the bone castle deep in the mist.

A terrifying pressure, far exceeding the current dungeon's level, was slowly descending from the rift.

In front of the bone castle, the players who had been in a frenzy all stopped their movements, as red [Forced Suppression] prompts flashed wildly on their system panels.

Their movement speed instantly plummeted by ninety percent, and their skill bars all turned gray.

Tariras dropped his giant scythe and knelt on one knee, the crimson soul-fire in his sockets trembling violently.

From the rift, a giant foot covered in dark gold scales stepped out.

Then, a massive figure over a hundred feet tall with six tattered black wings on its back slowly descended.

He had no face; his visage was just a swirling nebula vortex. His right hand held a greatsword burning with sickly green flames, and his left hand held a pair of scales.

[Abyssal Arbiter · Augustus (Incarnation of Rules)]

[Level: ???]

[Status: Absolutely Invincible (Under Protocol Protection)]

Chen You stood on the disc in mid-air, glanced at the attribute panel above the other's head, and raised an eyebrow.

Calling for backup when you can't win? And even locking your health? Isn't that being a sore loser?

"Trial-taker." Augustus's voice didn't travel through the air but exploded directly in everyone's minds.

"You have used unknown and disordered kin to break the balance of the ancient covenant."

He raised the scales in his left hand, and the tilted tray erupted with a blinding golden light.

Boom!

The ground below tore open violently.

The wasteland in front of the bone castle was forcibly reshaped, and a circular coliseum over a thousand meters in diameter rose from the ground.

Transparent energy barriers rose around it, isolating the three thousand players and Chen You in the stands, leaving only the empty black stone ground in the center of the coliseum.

"Given the abnormal number of your kin, the trial enters the 'Divine Judgment' phase."

Augustus floated above the coliseum, his voice cold, "General Duel Mode, activated."

"Best of five."

"Each round, both sides will send one general into the coliseum. Life or death is immaterial."

Augustus looked down at Chen You, a high-and-mighty disdain showing through that nebula vortex.

In his view, this dueling rule that stripped away the human-wave tactics was enough to plunge this opportunistic trial-taker into despair.

Those ants in bizarre costumes, once separated from the group, were nothing more than lambs to the slaughter before the trial generals.