46: Chapter 46 Pyrrhic Victory

That pitch-black stone fragment, like a miniature black hole, hovered silently, greedily swallowing all surrounding light, including the treasures radiating from the loot.

"My god... it dropped! Purple gear!"

"That black robe! It's a magical artifact! And that broken magic banner!"

"Get out of the way! That fragment is mine! I saw it drop from the boss's heart with my own eyes!"

After a brief silence, chaos erupted, more primitive and frantic than the war itself.

Hundreds of figures turned into starving wolves, pouncing toward the halo of loot.

Human greed was magnified infinitely at this moment; comrades who had just fought side-to-side were now ready to strangle each other over the ownership of the equipment.

Demolition Office Director took the lead. He didn't even look at the dazzling equipment, his fan-sized palm reaching directly for the pitch-black stone fragment.

He had a beast-like intuition that this thing was definitely a treasure!

"Get lost, you jerk!" A petite thief player flickered like a ghost, flanking from the side, dagger gleaming with cold light as he performed a [Backstab] aimed directly at Demolition Office Director's kidney.

However, he missed.

Demolition Office Director seemed to have eyes on the back of his head, slamming his elbow back and accurately hitting the thief in the face, sending him flying. He cursed, "Damn! Trying to snatch my hidden quest item? No way!"

The scene instantly spiraled out of control.

Various non-lethal crowd control skills flew everywhere: [Tripwire], [Quagmire], [Flash Powder]. Players used every means to prevent others from approaching the loot, staging a brawl comparable to fighting over cabbage at a wet market.

At the hill command post, Keyboard Warrior Governing the Nation rubbed his throbbing temples, looking at this group of undisciplined "madmen," a bitter smile appearing on his exhausted face.

He did not stop them.

He knew this was the nature of the "fourth calamity"; blocking them was worse than guiding them.

"Little Trumpet, tally the battle losses and contribution point consumption. Post the drop list and the fragment's attribute screenshot to the guild channel. Start a temporary auction; highest bidder wins, and all proceeds go to the clan treasury." His voice was soft, but it carried clearly to everyone's ears via the battlefield channel.

Appearance is Justice was the first to respond. She had been drooling over that tattered yet still gorgeous black robe and immediately shouted a bid in the guild channel: "I bid eight thousand contribution points! That [Fierce Shadow's Magic Pattern Robe]! Nobody compete with me! I'm going to pair it with my [Black Wind Stockade Master's Eyepiece]!"

The chaotic scramble gradually subsided, transforming into a frenzy of scrolling bid information in the guild channel.

Meanwhile, Gossip Reporter Little Trumpet's fingers swiped rapidly across her compass, and soon, a bloody post-battle report was sent out.

[Blood Soul Stone Mine Outpost Battle - Post-Battle Report]

Participating players: 1,352.

Total deaths: 9,847 times.

Total consumption of contribution points (resurrection costs): 2,461,750 points.

Current clan treasury contribution point balance: 3,215 points.

Evaluation: Pyrrhic victory.

In an instant, the chorus of bidding voices in the guild channel stopped.

The whole world seemed to be muted once again.

All players, whether on the front lines or in the rear, subconsciously opened their attribute panels.

That long string of shocking negative contribution points was like a bucket of ice water poured from above, extinguishing all the ecstasy brought by the victory.

"I... damn... I resurrected twenty-three times and owe the clan over fifty thousand contribution points?" A Divine Wind Battalion player's voice trembled.

"I... I'm from the Pot Lid Army, I died forty-one times... am I... going to have to sell myself to the Old Ancestor to work for a hundred years?"

"The treasury... is empty?"

Yes, it was empty.

To support this war, to ensure the brothers on the front lines could resurrect and return to the battlefield immediately, the massive resources accumulated from the previous "raiding the Chen family" that had made all players envious had been completely exhausted.

They had won; they had killed a Foundation Establishment Stage demonic master and achieved a miracle battle worthy of being recorded in "gaming history."

But they were also almost beaten back to square one.

Except for a few top players, most people were now penniless, or even saddled with massive "debts."

The joy of victory quickly faded in the face of cold reality, becoming incredibly bitter.

Ancestral Hall, resurrection point.

A flash of white light, and Charge to the End's figure re-solidified.

He subconsciously touched his crown; the sensation of it being crushed by ghost claws seemed to still linger.

"Ha... damn, that hurts." He grinned, opened his attribute panel, and saw the -88888 contribution points without even a twitch of his brow.

To him, it was just a number.

As long as they won, it was fine.

He strode toward the clan warehouse, ready to grab a spare weapon and then take the brothers out to celebrate.

However, when he pushed open the warehouse doors, he froze.

The huge warehouse was empty.

The mountain of ore, wood, talisman paper, and pills that used to be piled high was gone, not even a hair left.

Only a few empty shelves mocked this hero who had just returned in triumph.

The smile on Charge to the End's face stiffened for the first time.

Meanwhile, on the player forum, a post was quickly pinned, and the poster's ID was—Immovable as a Mountain.

Title: [We won, but what was the cost? — A tactical review and reflection on the Battle of Blood Soul Stone Mine]

The content of the post was long, without a single word of nonsense, full of cold data and rational analysis.

Immovable as a Mountain used detailed data tables to list the casualty ratios, output conversion rates, and death intervals of the three major legions: Pot Lid Army, Divine Wind Battalion, and Talisman Sea Alliance.

"...In this battle, our casualty ratio against the enemy reached a staggering 800:1. We used eight hundred lives to pile up and kill one enemy unit. Admittedly, the enemy was Foundation Establishment Stage, and we are Qi Refining Stage, which is glorious. But this is not worth being proud of."

"The Divine Wind Battalion's decapitation tactic was successful and was the key to securing victory. I extend my highest respect to Guild Leader Charge to the End and all the brothers of the Divine Wind Battalion. But we must soberly realize that this kind of mutually destructive 'Divine Wind Charge' is not replicable and was a final gamble based on emptying the entire clan's foundation."

"We seem to have won, but we lost the aftermath. If the Demon Venerable's main force attacks now, what will we use to resist? Empty warehouses?"

"...War is not a hot-blooded charge; it is a confrontation of systems. I propose establishing a 'War Tactics Research Institute' to define player professions more clearly. We need 'Shield Guards' who can withstand damage, 'Sharps' who can output steadily under the protection of shield guards, and even more, 'Support Formations' that can provide healing, control, and debuffs to enemies. The era of human-wave tactics is over. Next time, we won't be facing a lone Fierce Shadow, but the entire Heavenly Demon Sect."

This post was like a heavy bomb, exploding among the player group that had just experienced ecstasy and loss.

No rebuttal, no insults.

Only a heavy silence.

Because every word Immovable as a Mountain said hit everyone's sore spot.

"Immovable as a Mountain... is right. We... rely too much on resurrection." A Pot Lid Army player replied below; his shield had shattered in the battle, and now he didn't even have money to repair it.

"Damn it, I just knew how to throw talismans, and it felt great, but now that I think about it, if we had a tank in front to make Fierce Shadow's attack targets more concentrated, could we have saved a lot of unnecessary casualties?" A Talisman Sea Alliance player said regretfully.

Charge to the End stood at the door of the empty warehouse and also saw this post.

He looked at that familiar ID, looked at the sentence in the post "I extend my highest respect to Guild Leader Charge to the End and all the brothers of the Divine Wind Battalion," and his eyes were complex.

He wanted to refute, wanted to say "War is about having an indomitable spirit," wanted to say "Why play games if you're afraid of death."

But when the words reached his lips, he couldn't say them.

He remembered the silent figure he saw on the city wall raising a pot lid before his consciousness dissipated.

He... used the destruction of the entire legion to create conditions for his charge.

"Reckless fool..."

Charge to the End whispered the word the man had once scolded him with; this time, it carried a trace of self-mockery.

He didn't reply to the post, just silently closed the forum and turned to walk toward the mine in the back mountain.

The clan had no money, so he had to go mine.

One by one, he would mine back the debts his brothers owed.

And at this moment, the chaotic loot auction finally settled.

[Fierce Shadow's Magic Pattern Robe (Damaged)]: Auctioned off by Appearance is Justice for the sky-high price of 30,000 contribution points (IOU).

[Soul-Breaking Magic Banner (Incomplete)]: Auctioned off by a solo player specializing in Ghost Dao.

...

Finally, only that mysterious pitch-black stone fragment remained.

It had no attributes, no description, only one name—[Unknown Demon Source Fragment].

Gossip Reporter Little Trumpet tried to identify it with all her investigation skills, but the result was always "???".

This thing was like trash.

In the end, with no one interested, it was stored in the clan treasury by Keyboard Warrior Governing the Nation for a symbolic price of 1 contribution point, thrown into an inconspicuous corner.

No one knew that the moment this fragment entered the range of the Ancestral Hall, in the deepest part of the Ancestral Hall, inside that simple coffin, Lu Bei's illusory spirit body, as the "Old Ancestor," trembled violently.

An emotion stemming from the depths of his soul, mixed with extreme hatred and deep exhaustion, surged up uncontrollably.

He seemed to see a scene.

In the endless dark void, a man wearing a black king's robe was whispering gently to a stone emitting cold moonlight.

And at the end of that man's desolate gaze were countless... Gods and Demons, pierced by chains, wailing, their faces unclear.

The scene flashed and vanished.

Lu Bei's spirit body stabilized again, but an unprecedented feeling of palpitations lingered.

He "looked" at the inconspicuous fragment in the corner of the warehouse, and then "looked" at the coffin lid beneath him.

For the first time, he had an epiphany.

The golden coffin the players wanted to get for him, perhaps...

It was not just for the glory of his ancestors.

It was even more for... suppression.