Forge a path to success.

Chapter 102 Gathering
Late at night, on the rooftop, a torrential downpour was in full swing.

This was the heaviest rain in nearly a decade. The overloaded drainage system had stopped working, and rainwater flowed like rivers in the streets. Everything became blurred under the raging curtain of water, and even the distant high-rise buildings looked like phantom lighthouses.

The man in front of the sniper rifle remained motionless.

He had been waiting for three hours, not wearing a raincoat to prevent even the slightest error. In this weather, even his muscles felt like they were melting; all that remained before his sniper rifle was a skeleton. Snipers dislike rainy days; both wind and rain can introduce fatal errors. The observer had suggested retreating more than once, but he hadn't responded.

coming.

A static crackled through his headphones, a series of coordinates shifting rapidly as he calculated the position and fine-tuned his rifle. The heavy sniper rifle was aimed at the office building window; his focus was at its peak, his eagle-like gaze piercing the glass, sweeping across the floors, like a bullet hurtling towards the back of the building. The target was weaving between the buildings!

He fired simultaneously! In an instant, a deafening gunshot rang out, glass shattered, and a blinding spray of blood erupted from the point of impact. He succeeded! This was an unprecedented shot—a lone, blind-sniper maneuver through a building on a stormy night to kill his target. It was the only solution; for that monstrous target, only such an absurd plan could possibly succeed!

The crackling of electricity. Voices. The observer was shouting. His heart skipped a beat, then pounded wildly in revenge. The frantic pounding threatened to shatter him. He pushed against the weapon, sliding across the flooded rooftop. He slid down through the only exit, water droplets flying from his hair, landing with a javelin in his hand.

The elevator indicator light was flashing. He jumped out of the window and fell with the momentum. In the distant rain, blood spread, and the blood mist condensed like the fangs of a venomous snake. The man threw a grappling hook, smashing a hole in the building across the street. He rushed into the path of bullets, countless fragments reflecting off his狰狞 (zhengning - ferocious/hideous) face.

Amidst the noise, the stench of blood, and the distorted sound of rain, he instantly calculated the only possibility. He twisted his body and thrust his javelin diagonally upwards; at the same moment, the ceiling collapsed, and stone fragments rained down!

He saw a flash of silver light!
"—!"

The man broke free from the nightmare, his lean body covered in sweat. He clutched his face as if he were tearing his skull apart, the last lingering pain still radiating from his brain.

"I had another nightmare." The woman next to him pressed against his back. "How about we get a dream editing surgery?"

“No need.” His voice was so hoarse that it surprised even himself.

"Why suffer so much after achieving fame and success?" The prostitute got up and dressed. "I can't bear to see my old customer in such pain."

The bedside lamp turned on, illuminating the woman's pale body, a stark contrast that reminded him of the final flash of the blade. He tossed the woman a large teardrop, then lay alone for another half hour, listening to the incessant sounds of people outside the window.

Six months ago, Sutton Harbor was a small town buried in yellow sand, quiet day and night, inhabited only by the poor and law-abiding prostitutes. After the shipping routes reopened, speculators from the underworld flocked in, bringing their delusions, lies, and sea charts to Dragon City. Overnight, the town became rich and vulgar, filled with merchants, gangs, and assassins—just like his hometown. The day the prostitutes also cease to follow the rules will be the day he leaves.

The man went downstairs to the bar and ordered an iced milk. Three months ago, when the dark-faced poet stayed there, the place was packed; now, there were hardly any customers. The milk wasn't fresh, and it was sweetened; it wasn't very interesting.

Why don't you go to your mother for milk?

The cup was snatched away, and the slick-haired young master taunted him with a vulgar gesture, followed by a crippled man. "Remember Wrench Kid? The idiot you killed yesterday?..."

He had no interest in the incessant rambling. "Listen, I don't care if you're a legend or some damn epic, this street is my territory..." He continued his incessant chatter, ignoring it; he wanted to see what kind of thug he was. The Heartless One behind him drew his sword. "My Six-Line One-Sword Style is a demonic blade that kills without drawing blood..."

A gunshot rang out. Two heads exploded like smashed watermelons, splattering red and white matter across the table and the filthy walls. The headless corpses swayed, the man pulled away the milk glass, and the bodies, losing their support, collapsed to the ground. A few scattered screams followed.

Means nothing.

The milk was dirty. He was about to ask the bartender to get him a new glass. Another man sat down at the table, stepped over the two headless corpses on the floor, and placed a fresh glass of milk on the blood-stained table.

“Try it,” said the man with short black hair. “It’s an import from the city of Thorns, and it goes very well with the local mint tea.”

He took a bite. "Not bad."

"I'm so glad to have satisfied you, legendary gunslinger."

"Saxes".

"I am Wu He, a talisman master," the black-haired man introduced himself, dressed in a dark blue naval uniform. "I received a message about a 'stone seed' on a small dust island."

Interesting. The stone itself poses no threat; it's far from the emperor's reach, and the Ancient Tree Council behind it is powerless to interfere. But once this information leaks out, many profit-seekers will inevitably set off. This is a bloody competition; the other party is after him to kill, his old profession.

"Trying to poach?"

"The purpose is confidential. I want to take a gamble." Wu He handed him a piece of crystal. "I know you have plenty of wealth and pearls. Consider this a deposit to show your sincerity."

Shaks made no move.

"You know my rules."

“If you don’t find it interesting, then the deal can be cancelled at any time, I have no objection.” Wu He laughed heartily. “Take a look at the deposit, I think you’ll like it.”

Shakes pointed at the crystal, and a flood of information rushed into his mind. Countless fluorescent blue lines sharpened, curved, and spliced ​​together to form a rounded, almost circular, outline of the machine. The point he focused on magnified with his will, revealing the exquisite and neat internal structure beneath the armor in minute detail.

The Path of Floating Light, Point 4, the blueprint for the Boundary-Opening Wheel.

“Produced by the C·E·W Research Institute of Dustless Land, model number VV987, the latest model launched this year. It features a double-layer structure design, and the deposit is for the outer layer design.” Wu He crossed his hands. “The only better ones are their own-use models or imperial products. If I had that ability, I wouldn’t need to hunt for stone seeds.”

The number was disgusting, but that wasn't the point. Sarkies finished his milk and reached for his employer.

“Shax Ibn Ould”.

"Wu He. It's a pleasure doing business with you."

"The nearest ship departs in ten minutes." Wu He magically produced two tickets: "You have five minutes to pack your luggage."

As he carried the equipment on his back, Shakes realized he was smiling. Life was finally starting to get interesting.

The cruiser "Circulation" arrived in Golden Leaf City at 16:32 Standard Time of the Dust Realm, anchoring at the city's, or rather, the only port on Dust Island. This ship departed from Dragon City, stopping at several important hubs including Thousand Days City, Dustless Land, and Paradise of Seeking Fun, passing through 176 medium-sized Dust Islands and 312 small Dust Islands, making it the busiest route on the current sea chart. The sailors boasted that a year on this ship was equivalent to one adventure to the Mysterious Realm of Senluo.

Qingye didn't believe the sailors' nonsense. She knew that even if all those obscure little places were bundled together, they couldn't compare to her hometown, let alone the Senluo Secret Realm. The resurrected Ancient Dragon City was probably struggling with the lack of communication within the Secret Realm, which was why they prioritized using this route. Their ultimate goal was likely to gather elite troops to break through the front lines and restore communication with Longquan Township... or at least unite with the Jingsha City-State.

“With the divine kingdom on the verge of destruction, there is no hope of success,” she muttered to herself. “Unless Wushuang successfully ascends… but given that legend’s situation, it wouldn’t be surprising if he did something.”

"Miss, it's about time to head back to your cabin!" the old sailor called out to her from afar. "We're about to cross the border!"

"Thanks, grandpa. I'll get off here!"

"?! But the ship is already—"

Before the words were even finished, the girl had already leaped lightly off the deck. She stood on the sea with only her feet, the two swords crossed behind her gleaming in the sunlight. The demons of the shallow waters greedily pounced, but she drew her swords and slashed away at their afterimages, running alone towards the harbor, her figure fluttering like a butterfly.

"So he's a heartless person." The old sailor pulled down his hat. "An enviable talent..."

Two white lines stretched across the sea, one in front of the other. The dragon boat was setting sail in the distance, while Qingye drew her sword as she approached. She brandished her sword to repel the demons and gracefully flipped onto the harbor like a gymnast... but upon landing, her toes tripped over a white stone, and she nearly fell headfirst to the ground.

"Whoa!" Qingye narrowly regained her balance. "Thank goodness, I almost tipped over... Seriously, with such a huge rock here, doesn't anyone take care of this port?!"

But when she looked down, the stones were gone, and the harbor floor was smooth, a testament to the hard work of the ground crew. She looked up and saw the water train leaving the harbor. The train in this small town had only eight stops, cycling back and forth on an oval track. Ten minutes later, it stopped at the next station, where the white stone appeared unnoticed, positioned by the window of the police station opposite the station.

Opposite the wall was the interrogation room, where two policemen looked annoyed, and a middle-aged man with grayish-blue skin sat at the table with his head down.

"You are suspected of being linked to three burglaries and one murder. Under the Circular Channel Act, we have the right to take measures against you..."

"I just crave warmth," the man mumbled, "something...something that can warm me...something real..."

Frost spread from his feet and climbed up the officers' legs.

"temperature."

Thirty seconds later, a massive amount of ice erupted, turning the Golden Leaf City Police Department into an iceberg. A man, weeping uncontrollably, emerged from the icy aura; his tears had frozen into frost.

A block away from the police station, a square-faced monk lowered the curtains. A magic circle, drawn in thick shadows, filled the room as he opened the "Requiem for the Soul."

“Hear my call. Lord of Nightmares, Remnant of War, Lord of Billions of Demons…” Bernfar uttered a series of revered names, “Vansarar, the City of Nightmares.”

The shadow array rapidly contracted towards its center, instantly giving the flattened shadow shape and thickness, forming the head of a ferocious beast resembling a hunting dog. The demon's mouth opened at a painful angle, its upper jaw seemingly broken off and twisted backward, forming an opening resembling a flower petal. Amorphous shadows flowed out, transforming into a savage silhouette.

"...A Bone-Prayer monk?" The shadow was incredulous, then erupted in fury. "Who gave you the audacity to summon me! You should at least have found a priest!!!"

Shadows. Darkness. Shadows. Countless dark colors surged forth, encroaching on reality, and a surge of rage slammed Bernhard against the wall. His expression remained unchanged as he closed his book: "I am a senior monk."

"Even if you are favored by the gods, you are still a worthless piece of trash!!" Vansalar roared.

“I bring you news of a martial arts practitioner,” Bernfar said neither humbly nor arrogantly. “He defeated an immortal machine with skillful hands. Now he has become a Bone Mage.”

The surge of rage abruptly ceased, the shadows casting countless question marks, curiosity becoming the dominant emotion. Vansalar, taking human form, understood the whole story upon hearing it.

"Ah. Interesting. If what you say is true, then fate has become a deadlock. Eternal Time determined that he would die at the hands of Point 2, and now... haha... no Point 2 can kill him anymore." Vansalal began to mock, "What a masterpiece! I've lost count of how many legends this funeral procession has created! Isn't that what your stupid fate is all about? Declaring a death sentence on a lively person and then waiting for them to struggle out and then taking them down, it's the biggest suicide show in the world of motion!"

Compared to the one created by the Spiral Tower, Bernhard thought, all the miscalculations of Eternal Time were as insignificant as dust.

“There is no other possibility but you,” he said.

“This is certainly interesting.” Vansalar tended to its shadowy nails. “Say something else, and I’ll give you a good death.”

“His friend was a Disciplined Knight,” Bernfar said. “I think he was the last Disciplined Knight.”

In an instant, the room fell silent.

The shadowy tendrils converged towards the center, gathering within the corpse of the demon. The blurry shadow solidified, and a pair of black hands tore apart the demon's skin. Vansalal stepped out of the summoning circle, transforming into a blurry humanoid figure, holding a dark, unremarkable telephone.

"Olek! It's me. Send a clone of yourself; there's a good show for you."

He put down the phone and patted Bernfa's cheek.

“Very good.” Vansalar was delighted. “You don’t have to die.”

"From now on, I will take over this matter."

　There will be a break from October 10.1st to 8th. A short break will follow. Wishing everyone a happy holiday in advance!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)