Chapter 117: Rage (Seeking First Subscriptions)

In his previous life as a town sheriff, Zhao Xu knew all too well that rising to the top echelons of vast organizations controlling dozens of cities was never a matter of luck. Each person had to pass through countless trials, weaving a complex web of relationships within the organization.

Looking at the finely dressed man named Tucker before him, Zhao Xu estimated he was likely from a respectable but ordinary noble family—his vitality and resilience higher than common folk, but nothing extraordinary. For someone with such a temper to hold such a lofty position, it could only mean that his lineage was far beyond what ordinary people could reach.

In Arthur, strength was everything, but even the strongest had family, relatives, and friends. Naturally, these non-strong individuals also shared in the benefits.

“You have several high-level mages by your side. Do you really need to covet the spell notes in my hands?” Zhao Xu said calmly, waiting to see how far the man would escalate.

“Haha,” Tucker laughed arrogantly, as if he had heard the greatest joke. “Who are you trying to fool?”

“If it were just a spellbook, do you think I would go to such lengths? Do you know how much effort it took to catch those little kittens and corner you?” he continued mockingly. “Isis thought she had gotten hold of some precious secret, but she didn’t consider that some things are simply beyond the reach of scum like you. If I hadn’t feared alerting you, I would have struck Isis only after capturing your smuggling caravan. That’s why she escaped.”

Listening to Tucker’s words, Zhao Xu slowly pieced together the whole puzzle.

“Where did you go after that, to the mine?” he asked directly.

“Of course. Though the mage tried to conceal the mine with illusions, how could we be fooled? Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, he had vanished. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have to waste my energy chasing after trash like you,” Tucker said, a pleased expression crossing his face.

“What a surprise—who would have thought the mine held clues to a treasure? Those rookie adventurers thought they’d hit the jackpot with some magical items, only to end up robbed in the end.”

“Look at you all, keeping secrets for the man in front of you, while he guards even bigger secrets from you,” Tucker’s tone suddenly grew animated, his face flushed with veins bulging as he pointed at Fengye and the others with a malicious grin.

Fengye and the others were trapped, glaring at Tucker with nothing but anger.

“Some things you’re not qualified to touch—knowing them would only bring disaster,” Zhao Xu said calmly, meeting Tucker’s gaze.

Zhao Xu understood the terrifying nature of these treasures; from the start, he did not even want to know about them. If Fengye and the others found out now, it would be their doom.

On Earth, death was the end.

In Arthur, sometimes death meant the soul returned to the outer realms of the gods, which was a blessing. Far worse was a soul trapped, never to be reborn.

This statement seemed to strike a sensitive chord within Tucker. He abruptly waved his hand, and a heavily armored guard stepped forward, thrusting his sword toward Locke, who was hanging and gagged, only able to utter muffled sounds.

Only when the blade was drenched in blood did the guard withdraw his sword. Locke struggled a few times, then lay still.

Although Zhao Xu felt no shock over Locke’s betrayal, he did not expect the finely dressed man before him to flaunt such determination.

But Zhao Xu never yielded to threats.

He did not even draw his staff.

“Oh, so defiant,” Tucker sneered, looking down on Zhao Xu. “This isn’t something you Earth adventurers can handle. Just confess now, save me the trouble of chasing you down three or four more times.”

“You know I can do it,” Zhao Xu replied.

The mages standing beside Tucker carried an air of superiority, barely sparing Zhao Xu a glance.

To them, simply guarding Tucker was all the duty they owed.

Zhao Xu also understood why they had not come to capture him outright but instead tried to break his will.

Players only become true corpses, dropping all their items, after exhausting five resurrection stones. Before that, the most practical way to take their possessions was to subdue them and forcibly strip their belongings.

But if a player chose to die in a last-ditch, mutual destruction manner, no one could stop it.

This was equivalent to forcibly dispelling a projection—like when one gets lost in the wild and uses a resurrection stone to return to town.

Players usually resurrect near a town’s church, making it impractical for them to be captured there.

This was why Tucker had been pressuring Zhao Xu from the start, trying to force him to hand over the book.

Zhao Xu carefully assessed the strength Tucker had brought this time.

The scene was indeed impressive—just the 200 heavy cavalry alone must have cost a fortune to assemble.

But Zhao Xu was certain these men were not from the powerful mage families of Mystra.

Otherwise, they would know the true significance of the mine.

They would never dare to meddle with Ernest’s secret stash.

That secret was beyond the reach of minor divine powers and the church had no right to compete for it.

“Release them, and I will go back with you,” Zhao Xu decided to try settling the matter with the mage association’s credential letter.

The Crescent Town association didn’t wield much influence, but those mages certainly recognized the emblem in his hand.

“Ah, how naive the world still is,” Tucker chuckled, sharing a joke with his subordinates, satisfied when they responded with sheepish smiles.

“This caravan is foolish, and you are even more so.”

“From the start, the supply shipments to Cassow City and Butan City were already infiltrated by my family. The two city lords are mere scapegoats; without this achievement, I wouldn't have ascended to the elder’s position so openly.”

“So you know, when I saw your caravan deliberately walk into my trap to deliver supplies, I was laughing so hard,” he said.

Suddenly, the clouds above could no longer hold back the storm, and countless raindrops fell, shattering the serene scene of the South Isle Forest.

The lush greenery turned gray and misty, saturated with moisture.

This time, Zhao Xu did not wrap himself in a rain cloak; the heavy downpour soaked him through, and his heart grew cold in the rain.

He finally understood why things had felt so off.

The original lead was flawed.

The fortune teller from Crescent Town had undoubtedly been executed by internal forces.

The independence of Cassow and Butan cities had from the start been a chess piece in a power struggle among the great.

Each player tried to carve out their own piece.

“Why do you have the right to toy with the lives of others?” Zhao Xu’s heart turned numb.

Rain pelted his face, running down his hair and into his robe, yet he felt no chill.

“Looks like I have to show you what it really means to toy with life and death,” Tucker said coldly from afar, making a throat-slitting gesture to his men, his usual cruel smile replaced by icy detachment.

The heavy cavalry escorting the smuggling caravan drew their swords and began slaughtering the kneeling, helpless caravan guards.

Like dominoes falling, these guards—who had served Zhao Xu for over a week, helping carry his burdens and pitch tents—fell one by one, never to move again.

As if they had never existed.

Blood mixed with rainwater, soaking into the earth below.

The storm hammered the ground but could not stop sword after sword piercing hearts.

The massive wounds claimed life after life.

Poets passing by in the future could never imagine that dozens had been buried here.

Even the flourishing tree branches above had been nourished by this bloodshed.

Roya, hanging on the brink of death, drifted in and out of consciousness, the sound of blades piercing flesh making him understand what had happened.

But he no longer had the strength to grit his teeth; all he could do was deeply regret.

“You will descend into hell,” the poet finally tore off his gag, shouting curses.

They had surrendered only because Fengye had one resurrection stone left and didn’t want him to die. Who would have guessed these NPCs had such a plan?

“I—” the poet’s curse was cut short as a soldier silenced him with a blade.

His health plummeted below zero on the spot, his body dissolving into a rainbow of light with no ashes left behind.

At the same time, Youyou, eyes bloodshot, was taken by the next sword.

The Wanderer Rainbow struggled against his bonds and gag but could not break free. He shouted in fury about filing complaints and demanding this game's NPCs be purged from the data.

But no one heard him, nor did he have the chance to speak before he too vanished in a rainbow glow.

“Satisfied, Mr. Midsummer? This is the grand gift I offer you in exchange for that book you owe me. Enjoy the show,” Tucker laughed hoarsely, his face alight with reckless arrogance.

Playing with life was the most thrilling game.

But Arthur had a famous saying: nothing was more dangerous than offending a mage, for it was a vendetta spanning generations.

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