IWYTBW - Chapter 54
Chapter 54
The Dead Man's Last Revenge is Not Telling the Whole Story.
It all unfolded in a blur. Yi Zhen deftly tucked the Three Smiles Butterfly—now too stuffed to fly—into his Mustard Seed Pouch, scooped the Bone-Eroding Spirit Scorpion onto his shoulder, pulled his mask up, and plunged into the toxic mist.
Truth be told, he hated leaving this unexplored treasure trove behind. But with chaos erupting outside, how could he possibly continue his search in peace?
The real worry gnawing at him was the fate of She Xin and Li Youdeng. Where had they vanished to? That abrupt, cut-off message left a knot of foreboding in his stomach.
Retracing his steps, Yi Zhen jogged through the fog, querying his system. “Tai’a, any idea what the hell is going on out there?”
[One moment, Player.]
After a brief, patient wait, Tai’a responded: [Apologies, Player. The local network is down. I cannot detect any communication signals between contestants. Furthermore, an exceptionally potent isolation field now blankets Longhua Star’s atmosphere. This is not the work of a transmigrator; it appears to be an emergent consequence of the world’s plotline. I am unable to bypass it.]
“No communication signals?” Yi Zhen was taken aback. “Does that mean everyone’s dead?”
[Possibly, or possibly not,] Tai’a stated. [However, my preliminary analysis suggests that all energy-based systems and devices have been suppressed.]
“So, in other words…” Yi Zhen trailed off.
He suddenly recalled something She Xin had mentioned during their first encounter: why electromagnetic weapons were falling out of favor. Because space pirate crews now routinely carried anti-magnetic field jammers, rendering such weapons utterly useless.
He skidded to a halt. From his infinite quiver, he drew one of the electromagnetic pulse arrows Rong Hongxue had given him. Hesitating only a second, he nocked it and drew the bowstring.
The arrow flew, propelled by minimal force. Its heavy tip dragged it down after about fifty meters, where it embedded itself diagonally in the muddy ground. No activation. No explosion. No reaction whatsoever. It stood there inertly, like an exquisitely crafted fake.
“...So, basically, this entire planet is under the effect of something like an anti-magnetic field jammer, but broader. Anything involving energy—mechs, particle guns, thermal blades, electro-sabers, you name it—is completely useless now.” Yi Zhen walked over and retrieved the arrow.
[That assessment appears fundamentally correct,] Tai’a confirmed.
Yi Zhen’s hand went to the alloy crossbow strapped to his arm. As a master of hidden weapons, he wasn’t personally defenseless. But the others? He hadn’t heard from Ai Ling in ages. How was she faring…?
Who was behind this massive disruption? And what was their ultimate goal?
His thoughts drifted back to the fragmented words of the Azothian Little Prince – “Still no movement from that side?” Who was “that side”? Could they be the masterminds behind this planetary lockdown?
Burdened by these thoughts, Yi Zhen emerged from the purple mist. Dawn was breaking, painting the sky with morning hues. A new day should have brimmed with hope, but standing at the swamp’s edge, gazing into the forest, Yi Zhen felt only dread.
Flocks of startled birds flapped chaotically overhead, their panicked cries echoing. In the distance, the sea of trees churned violently, hinting at countless creatures stampeding in terror. Plumes of smoke rose from multiple locations. The sky itself bled with strange, fiery colors. His vision, augmented by the Jade Alchemy of the Eastern Sea, was sharp enough to pierce the atmosphere, revealing the faint, menacing silhouette of a colossal warship lurking above.
“I... what the...” Yi Zhen stammered, flabbergasted. “This is practically like getting transmigrated all over again! What the hell kind of messed-up world did I land in this time?!”
The words barely left his mouth when the distant heavens seemed to ignite. A brilliant point of light flared, rapidly expanding, burning brighter and brighter. Yi Zhen squinted, muttering, “A meteor? Don’t tell me it’s some kind of Super Mega Star Destroyer …”
It wasn’t a meteor, nor was it the fantastical superweapon Yi Zhen imagined. It was a gargantuan vessel making a desperate emergency descent from orbit, plummeting with the trajectory of a crash landing deep into the mountain range. The impact was monumental; its sheer weight sent shockwaves trembling through the ground beneath Yi Zhen’s feet.
Strangely, the catastrophic sight brought a measure of calm to Yi Zhen. The panic subsided.
Screw it. When you’re drowning in debt, a little more doesn’t hurt. When you’re covered in lice, a few more bites go unnoticed. Whatever was happening, he would uncover the truth. Too much had gone wrong in a single day for him to remain frazzled. He needed to focus on the immediate problem.
First things first: head to the coordinates Li Youdeng sent initially. Even if they bolted, they couldn’t have gone far from that spot.
He donned his gauntlets and sprinted toward the destination.
*
Meanwhile, Li Youdeng and She Xin were tearing through the woods.
Neither could be described as clean. Their clothes were blackened and scorched, their faces streaked with soot and grime, but they seemed unharmed.
“This way!” Li Youdeng jabbed a finger at her magnified map display. “It’s close to our first coordinate drop, shielded by natural barriers – hard to spot. If Yi Zhen comes looking, he’ll figure it out quickly!”
She Xin, however, was unusually silent, his usual demeanor replaced by a sullen quietness.
“By the way, how did you even get to Longhua Star? I thought you weren’t competing?” Li Youdeng asked, not yet registering his mood.
“Li Zeyu vouched for me,” She Xin mumbled, his voice flat. “I went to him, and he promised to talk to my brother. Longhua Star was the preliminary site my brother picked.”
The dejection in his tone was unmistakable now. Li Youdeng let out a soft “Ah.”
She knew firsthand how fiercely protective Desnians were of their young—their ’‘minors’. With Longhua Star descending into chaos, She Xin’s cousin, the one who had personally selected this dangerous proving ground, must be consumed by guilt and regret.
“Hey… don’t beat yourself up,” Li Youdeng offered awkwardly. “Life throws curveballs. Who could’ve predicted this mess on Longhua Star? We’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve got that crazy Heavenly Retribution System thing, right…?”
“The ones who came… it’s the Golden Hind,” She Xin whispered.
“Golden Hind? Which Gol— You mean the Golden Hind? That infamous pirate syndicate?!”
The name struck Li Youdeng like a physical blow. She grabbed She Xin’s arm, nearly stumbling.
“The Golden Hind? Are you sure? The one… the one that…” Forgetting their escape for a moment, she demanded confirmation. “How do you know?”
She Xin replied softly, “They hunted me once before. I remember their fleet. The communication blackout, the energy weapon failure… that’s their signature Star Ring technology at work.”
Having always treated She Xin as an equal, her own irreverent nature blinding her, Li Youdeng had never truly dwelled on his status. She Yi’s previous intervention had merely elicited an internal groan of ‘Ugh, your family is so extra. Even ladies of the night get to choose their clients, okay?’ But now, hearing that the Golden Hind had hunted him, the reality struck her: Desnians were rare. Desnian minors were treasures beyond measure, coveted even by the galaxy’s most notorious pirate fleet, who clearly weren’t deterred by the potentially catastrophic consequences of angering the Desna Star System’s inhabitants.
“Then you’re in serious danger,” Li Youdeng said grimly. “Your hair, your eyes… they’re too distinctive.”
The very reason his people were nicknamed after the Dragon Blood Tree wasn’t just their longevity, but their striking green hair and eyes, so reminiscent of foliage.
“When Yi Zhen finds us, we’ll get him to disguise you somehow…” Li Youdeng decided quickly. “Okay, priority one is run. I doubt the Golden Hind came all this way just for you, though. They must have a bigger prize in mind.”
Despite her reassuring words, she had no clue what drove these pirates. They were blood-soaked madmen, discarding life and humanity, building their survival on mountains of innocent corpses. Who could fathom the motives of antisocial killers descending upon this planet? Nobody.
“Okay,” She Xin nodded meekly.
When they finally reached the designated hiding spot on the map, they discovered it was already occupied.
By a familiar face, at that.
Li Youdeng’s gaze settled on the figure at the center of the group—the silver-haired, blue-eyed Anthony Carter—and a smirk touched her lips.
“Ah,” She Xin recognized him too. “Isn’t that the guy you flirted with before he trashed the place…?”
Li Youdeng rolled her eyes. “Flirted with me? Please, it was mutual banter. He started it. If he hadn’t provoked me, I wouldn’t have bothered. Not my type anyway.”
They stood there openly, making no attempt to conceal themselves. The group quickly noticed them. Daggers were drawn, hostile figures moving to drive them off, but Li Youdeng simply raised her hands, palms open, signaling peaceful intent.
“Hey!” she called out brightly. “Little beauty! Long time no see!”
That familiar, infuriating nickname made Anthony Carter leap to his feet, fists clenched, staring at Li Youdeng in utter disbelief. “You! It’s you?!”
“The one and only,” Li Youdeng grinned, strolling closer with She Xin in tow, completely unfazed by the wary circle of teenagers eyeing them suspiciously. “We were just looking for a cozy hideout, didn’t expect you lot to beat us to this one.”
Her beauty was undeniable, the golden vambraces on her fair, rounded arms drawing the eye. Coupled with her pleasant tone, Anthony’s hostility visibly softened, though his words remained clipped. “What do you want here?”
Li Youdeng countered, “You found shelter awful fast. Means you know something, right? Let’s trade intel.”
Anthony’s pale eyebrows furrowed. “What have you got to trade?”
Li Youdeng produced a pink wristband and dangled it.
“50 points. For what you know.”
Anthony studied her for a moment, then scoffed. “50 points? For that? Why should I tell you anything? Don’t think I’ve forgotten our little history…”
“The Golden Hind is here,” She Xin cut in sharply. “Do you know why? If you do, tell us. One more person knowing the truth increases our odds of survival. Surely you don’t hate us enough to wish us dead? If you don’t know, we’ll leave. But be warned: they’ve deployed their Star Ring. Those pirates are masters at hunting living beings. Grouping up like this makes you a massive target.”
His uncharacteristic verbosity stunned the teenagers into silence. They exchanged uneasy glances. Hearing the name Golden Hind confirmed, Anthony’s expression flickered uncertainly. He muttered, “So it really is the Golden Hind…”
He looked up at She Xin and Li Youdeng. “Give me the wristband.”
Li Youdeng tossed it over. Anthony glanced at it, then said, “I suspected… but wasn’t sure. What you just said confirms it.”
He inhaled deeply. “You saw that starship crash, right? That wasn’t just any ship. That was the Dragon Palace. And the Tannhäuser’s Crown is on board!”
“Tannhäuser’s Crown?” Li Youdeng, a lover of jewels, instantly recognized the name of the priceless artifact known as the “Tear-Rain Crown.” Legend claimed its wearer could glimpse the seam between illusion and reality upon turning around. Gaia Dawn, the First Grand Miracle, had famously borrowed it, studying it for three years straight in the Academic Tower, ultimately finding nothing. “So that’s what they’re after!”
“Thanks, little beauty.” Information secured, and relief washing over her that She Xin wasn’t the primary target, Li Youdeng blew Anthony a flippant kiss. “Come on, She Xin, let’s find somewhere else.”
She grabbed She Xin’s arm and hurried away. Watching her retreating figure, Anthony leaned forward almost imperceptibly, his lips parting as if to call her back.
But the moment passed. He remained silent, watching her disappear, before sinking back down with his group.
*
Elsewhere, Yi Zhen continued his urgent push deeper into the forest.
He could now make out smaller auxiliary craft descending through the atmosphere… No idea who they belonged to – military, or the instigators of this chaos – but the palpable hostility radiating from them was unmistakable.
[Player, take cover immediately,] Tai’a interjected suddenly. [I am detecting communication between a system and its transmigrator host nearby.]
Yi Zhen jolted, instantly halting and ducking behind a massive tree.
His awareness spread outwards silently: ten meters, twenty, thirty… Got it! A human heartbeat.
Crouching low, Yi Zhen flowed into the dense undergrowth, moving like smoke towards the sound.
A young man sat there. Seen from the side, his features were unremarkable, utterly plain. Yet, amidst the widespread panic, with everyone scrambling due to the technological shutdown, his calm demeanor as he meticulously wiped down a blade was, in itself, extraordinary.
He muttered softly as he worked, the sound barely above a whisper. Yi Zhen could only catch fragmented complaints like “annoying,” “screw-up.”
Yi Zhen’s Mineral-Essence Gauntlet glinted darkly, like a viper silently closing in on its prey from behind.
He was an assassin. Assassins materialized behind their targets when least expected, their presence transforming the victim’s world into the shadow of a tombstone yet to be carved.
A soft click echoed as the gauntlet pressed against the young man’s throat.
“Hello, transmigrator,” Yi Zhen hissed, his voice deliberately low and distorted, gender indeterminate.
The young man flinched violently, nearly leaping up, but his system screamed a warning.
[Don’t! Move! Host!] it shrieked internally. [That weapon on your neck is exquisitely crafted from top-tier materials! If you move now, you’ll be slicing your own flesh and bone!]
Terror flooding him, the young man instantly raised his hands. “Who… who are you?” he stammered.
Yi Zhen countered coolly, “Why would I tell you?”
The young man fought the urge to swallow. Like the Little Prince before him, he dared not speak too loudly, terrified the razor edge of the gauntlet would slice his Adam’s apple should it move.
“Y-You detected me… that means you’re higher level than me, right? A senior?”
Yi Zhen ignored the question. “What are you doing here?”
“I… I was tracking a transmigrator pretending to be the protagonist,” the young man lied, mixing truth with fabrication. “I figured he must know the plot inside out. I wanted to find him, maybe team up, form an alliance.”
A cold, silent sneer formed in Yi Zhen’s mind.
So, he’s been watching me. He must have noticed how different Yi Zhen’s personality was from the original character, leading him to this ’‘protagonist impersonator’ conclusion.
As for an allegiance? Teaming up?
If Yi Zhen were just another transmigrator aiming to conquer this world, perhaps he might have let this one live, given the apparent offer of camaraderie. Too bad for him, Yi Zhen wasn’t playing that game.
“Is that so?” Yi Zhen deactivated the Illusory Body of Mo Luo, his physical form solidifying directly behind the young man. “Your real reason?”
[Host!] the system shrieked again, laced with panic. [This high-level transmigrator intends to kill you! That question was the point of no return! Whatever you say now, he won’t spare you! Use your ultimate technique! Now! Don’t hold back!]
In an instant, the young man’s eyes hardened. Yi Zhen had his neck immobile, but his hands were still raised and free. Fingers flickered – spread, clamped – and a small, elegant playing card shot from between them, slicing toward Yi Zhen’s torso like lightning!
Simultaneously, sensing Yi Zhen’s grip about to fatally tighten, the young man’s body blurred, instantaneously teleporting to face Yi Zhen directly. He clutched his neck; the Mineral-Essence Gauntlet had scraped it raw and bloody, but crucially, hadn’t severed his windpipe. He was alive.
He stared at Yi Zhen, a bizarre, triumphant grin spreading across his face.
That was his ace in the hole. An unassuming playing card, yes, but it was a sealed dimensional artifact containing a concentrated burst of spatial-temporal turbulence—a rift capable of tearing apart time and space itself.
No matter how powerful you are, senior, even if you’re the king of countless book worlds—you’re not a god. You’re not immortal.
If this can shred time and space, surely it can shred mere flesh and blood?
His victorious smile froze.
The turbulent rift erupted outwards, a crescent of pitch-black, lightless death, tearing at the fabric of stable space, disrupting the forward flow of time… yet it failed to shred Yi Zhen. Because in that same instant, Yi Zhen’s upper body dissolved into formless mist. The rift cut like a blade; Yi Zhen became water. A blade can sever any obstacle, but it cannot cut the flow of water.
Before the transmigrator could process this, five razor-sharp fingers plunged deep into his chest, piercing his heart. His eyes widened, pupils reflecting the horrifying visage of death itself.
“Illusory… Body… of Mo Luo…” Blood poured from his lips. “So… you’re… the… Seventh… Arb—”
Yi Zhen froze, stunned. The sheer volume of blood choked the boy’s final words into a near-inaudible whisper.
“What did you say?” Yi Zhen dared not withdraw his hand, fearing it would accelerate the inevitable. “Speak clearly!”
The light faded from the transmigrator’s eyes. His body, rejected by this reality, began to disintegrate, dissolving into swirling ash that scattered on the wind, vanishing without a trace.
He was dead.
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