47: Chapter 47 The Demon Lord's Personal Expedition

The clamor and silence of the Blood Soul Stone Mine were merely the distance between two forum posts.

When Immovable as a Mountain's cold, iron-like after-action report dragged all the players from the lingering excitement of a pyrrhic victory into the ice cave of debt, the entire family territory fell into a strange, deathly silence.

Inside the mine, Charge to the End swung the crudest iron pickaxe, strike after strike, mechanically hammering against the cold rock wall.

Sparks flew, illuminating his silent face.

He no longer clamored about going for drinks, nor did he boast about his battle achievements.

That post on the forum was like a thorn, piercing into the "courage" he was most proud of, making him taste, for the first time, the bitterness known as "responsibility."

Beside the ruins of the alchemy room in the back mountain, several life-skill players were surrounding Skillful Hands Mending, trying to repair a few damaged leather armors with the cheapest materials, their faces full of worry.

The treasury was empty; they couldn't even afford to exchange for the most basic animal hides and hemp threads.

Even Appearance is Justice, who had just used a 30,000 contribution point IOU to win the [Fierce Shadow's Magic Pattern Robe], could not smile at this moment.

She stroked the gorgeous but damaged magic patterns on the robe, feeling for the first time that this "fashion item" she had dreamed of might, before it had even warmed up, be reduced to even more brilliant fragments in the next battle, which could erupt at any moment.

The entire Lu Clan seemed to have its throat gripped by an invisible hand; it was oppressive, stifling, and breathless.

Until—the sky changed.

The first to notice the anomaly was Gossip Reporter Little Trumpet.

She was crouching at the village entrance, trying to extract more legends about the "Demon Lord of the neighboring mountain" from the rescued Grandpa Li, hoping to discover new quest clues.

Suddenly, she felt a wave of inexplicable palpitations.

"Grandpa Li, don't you think... the sky seems a bit darker?" She instinctively looked up.

The afternoon sun was still hanging high, but the sunlight had lost its warmth, and the cast light carried a sickly, dim yellow hue.

On the distant horizon, where the outlines of lush green mountains should have been, it was being slowly encroached upon by an impenetrable smear of ink-black.

That was not a cloud.

Clouds are not this heavy, nor this aggressive, as if they were about to crush the entire sky down.

"De... Demon aura..." Grandpa Li's cloudy eyes widened abruptly, the dry tobacco pipe in his hand fell to the ground with a "clatter," his lips trembling, all color drained from his face, "It's the Demon Lord! The Demon Lord is here!"

Almost at the same time, for all online players, whether they were mining, repairing equipment, or lurking on the forum, a blood-red system notification popped up without warning in the top right corner of their vision.

The font seemed to be dripping blood, carrying a Majesty that brooked no argument, like the arrival of the apocalypse.

[World Event Triggered: The Eve of the Demon's Arrival]

[Warning: The Sect Master of the Heavenly Demon Sect, 'Night Radiance', has been truly angered by your 'disrespectful' actions. His army is marching towards your location.]

[Quest Objective: Survive under the wrath of 'Night Radiance'.]

[Quest Reward: Depends on the final outcome.]

[Failure Penalty: Family level reset to zero, all members' cultivation level regresses by five stages, all treasury resources cleared, the Ancestor's incense offering dissipates, falling into a ten-thousand-year slumber.]

"F*ck!"

Charge to the End's iron pickaxe stopped in mid-air; he looked up abruptly, gazing toward the direction of the ancestral hall.

Every word in the failure penalty was like a heavy hammer, smashing fiercely against his heart.

Cultivation regression, treasury cleared... these were still acceptable.

But the Ancestor's incense dissipating, falling into slumber?

That stingy Ancestor who made empty promises every day and tricked them into buying a golden coffin, would he disappear completely?

In an instant, what flashed through his mind were not those pit-falling quests, but the surprise they felt when they first lit firewood as incense in that dilapidated ancestral hall and received that faint buff;

It was the excitement of the first time they dismantled a bandit's ancestral hall and saw the golden light flash on the Ancestor's spirit tablet...

Without knowing when it started, that ethereal spirit tablet had become the root of that "home" in the hearts of all players.

"Thud!"

The iron pickaxe was smashed hard into the ground by him, splashing gravel everywhere.

Charge to the End's eyes were blood-red; he turned and rushed out, the quiet, deathly air replaced by a more violent fury.

"Assemble! Divine Wind Battalion! Get the f*ck out here and assemble!"

Dark clouds loomed over the city, threatening to crush it.

That was no longer a metaphor, but reality.

Thick demonic aura surged from the horizon like a tide; wherever it passed, vegetation withered and life was extinguished.

The sky was completely obscured; daylight was forcibly twisted into night. Only within the rolling demonic clouds did flashes of scarlet lightning occasionally appear, illuminating the terrified faces below.

"Command... Boss Keyboard... Look at the sky!" A player in charge of reconnaissance said, his voice trembling.

Inside the makeshift command tent, Keyboard Warrior Governing the Nation and Immovable as a Mountain had already rushed out.

They gazed up at that apocalyptic scene; even with the firmest of minds, they felt a chill seeping from their bone marrow at this moment.

At the very front of the demonic clouds, one could vaguely see a massive throne built from countless skeletons and vengeful souls, and upon the throne sat a figure, perched high.

He was draped in a black royal robe, his face shrouded in shadow, unclear, but merely that posture of looking down upon the world made everyone who saw him feel a sense of humbleness and insignificance stemming from the level of life itself.

It was the Demon Lord, Night Radiance.

He did not look at the territory beneath his feet, which in his eyes was like an anthill; his gaze just swept over it indifferently, as if searching for something.

There was no tyranny in his expression, only a bone-deep exhaustion and... impatience.

"Are these the bugs that have delayed this Lord for so much time?"

He muttered to himself, his voice not loud, yet it seemed to carry some kind of law, ringing clearly in every player's ears.

His fingertips gently stroked a cold stone in his embrace.

The stone emitted a cold moonlight, purifying the demonic aura around him to some extent.

"Yue'er, wait a little longer. Once we get the 'key', we will leave, to a place... where no one can disturb us."

That momentary tenderness formed an extreme contrast with the surrounding world-destroying demonic might, yet no one could catch a glimpse of it.

The next moment, he lifted his eyes.

Those eyes hidden in the shadows seemed to penetrate space, locking onto the deepest part of the ancestral hall, that simple coffin.

It is now!

An indescribable, terrifying Majesty descended, like the sky collapsing, like a tsunami, crashing down!

All players, regardless of where they were, felt their bodies sink abruptly, as if firmly pressed down by an invisible mountain.

Breathing became difficult, their limbs felt like they were filled with lead, and even their thinking slowed down.

[Warning: You have entered the "Heavenly Demon Majesty" domain of 'Demon Lord Night Radiance', all attributes temporarily reduced by 30%!]

"...Pfft!"

A player who was sprinting felt their legs go weak and fell face-first into the mud.

"My strength... my speed... what is going on!"

"Damn it, how are we supposed to fight this? I can't even stand steady!"

Panic spread like a plague.

The 30% reduction in all attributes was the final straw that broke the camel's back for the players, who had just experienced a bloody battle and were all in debt.

"Don't panic!"

Immovable as a Mountain's voice exploded in the battlefield channel. He resisted the pressure that felt like it would crush him, his voice sounding somewhat low due to his extreme efforts to control it, but still steady. "This is the Boss's domain skill! Everyone, by squad, retreat toward the ancestral hall! Shield Guardian class, go to the warehouse immediately... grab door panels! Pot lids will do too! Build the first line of defense around the perimeter of the ancestral hall!"

His orders were timely and effective; the panicked players seemed to have found their backbone and began to act spontaneously.

Keyboard Warrior Governing the Nation's expression was unprecedentedly grave; his brain was spinning wildly.

Conventional tactics had already failed.

In the face of such absolute strength suppression, any schemes or tricks seemed pale and weak.

He glanced at Gossip Reporter Little Trumpet beside him; the latter was standing with a pale-faced NPC.

It was Chen Kang.

This defected Black Spider Hall Master was staring fixedly at the rolling demonic clouds in the sky, his body shaking like a sieve.

"It... it is the Sect Master personally leading the expedition..." Chen Kang's teeth were chattering, "Those black flags are the 'Black Demon Guards', the Sect Master's most elite personal guards... It's over... We are doomed... No one can stop them..."

"Shut up!" Little Trumpet hissed, then turned to Keyboard Warrior Governing the Nation and said quickly, "Keyboard, Chen Kang says that is Night Radiance's trump card; every single one of them is a Foundation Establishment Stage demonic cultivator, there are three hundred of them!"

Three hundred... Foundation Establishment Stage?

Keyboard Warrior Governing the Nation's heart sank to the bottom.

They had just used eight hundred lives to pile-kill one Fierce Shadow.

Now, there were three hundred.

This was no longer a war; it was a massacre.

However, right at this most desperate moment, a figure carrying an iron pickaxe, from the direction of the back mountain mine, walked step by step, against the crowd, toward the very front of the battle line.

It was Charge to the End.

He was not wearing fine armor; he was still in that ragged cloth garment, because of his debts, he couldn't even afford to repair his equipment.

He walked up to the line of defense that Immovable as a Mountain had just built with door panels and pot lids, which looked incredibly ridiculous.

Immovable as a Mountain looked at him, his eyes complex: "What are you doing here? The Divine Wind Battalion's position is on the flank, preparing for an assault."

Charge to the End did not look at him, but simply stuck the iron pickaxe in his hand into the ground, leaning on it with both hands, looking up at the blurred and majestic figure in the sky, grinning to reveal a mouthful of white teeth.

"Assault?" He laughed self-deprecatingly, "With what? With our lives?"

He paused, turned his head, looked at Immovable as a Mountain seriously for the first time, and said in a deep voice: "Last time, your men paved the way for me. This time, I'll be the tank for you."