Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Alliance of Three Forces

In the depths of the forest, Barnard’s iron hand flashed with silver light, weaving incessantly into a dense net of shimmering threads that descended upon Luo Hao. Within the tenfold gravity field, Luo Hao moved as if unburdened, his broad sword tracing bizarre arcs through the air, tearing the oncoming silver mesh into shreds.

Barnard's expression remained unchanged, betraying not a hint of panic. He kept a deliberate distance from Luo Hao, constantly entwining the silver threads to form new nets, each one drifting toward Luo Hao, enshrouding him ever more tightly. The silver mesh, unaffected by the gravity field, floated gracefully within its confines. Those nets that Luo Hao rent apart with his sword twisted and reformed, swirling around him in an endless dance. From a distance, it seemed as if Luo Hao stood at the heart of a shattered spider's web: his sword tore through the strands, yet they never truly vanished.

Barnard maintained his measured distance, weaving net upon net, tightening the trap around Luo Hao. He circled his quarry with ease, a cold chuckle escaping his lips from time to time. “My friend, why struggle so fiercely? All we desire are those two women. My men are already on their way, and unless something unexpected occurs, they should have captured them by now. You cannot break free of my Silver Thread Net. The outcome is inevitable—why waste your strength?”

“If anything happens to them, I swear I will slaughter every last member of your Fangs Mercenary Group!” Luo Hao’s face twisted with fury amid the swirling nets, his voice low and menacing. “I will devote the rest of my life to hunting you all down, until not a single one of you remains!”

Barnard’s heart skipped a beat; he drew a deep breath and nodded. “It seems I must kill you after all.”

“Captain! Captain!” A shout erupted from the distance. “Zhuoke is dead! He was only grazed on the arm, but the poison killed him!”

Barnard’s face hardened. “No mercy! Kill those two now! Damn it! Poison, is it? When they’re dead, cut them to pieces and feed them to the beasts—I want nothing left!”

His mercenaries roared in unison, surging into the forest in pursuit of Zhao Xin and Hu Long.

Barnard steeled himself and unleashed the full might of the Silver Thread Net, sealing off Luo Hao’s domain for a final, decisive battle.

Suddenly, bolts of lightning as thick as fingers descended from the heavens, converging into a new net that crashed down from above. Luo Hao’s face blanched; no matter how he swung his sword, he could not break through this electric snare.

A dozen or so crackling bolts, dazzling and serpentine, writhed toward him. Alarmed, Luo Hao summoned all his strength, his sword erupting in blinding white light, forming rings of radiance to shield his body.

A cacophony of sizzling and crackling erupted as the lightning collided with the rings, sparks flying from Luo Hao’s body. The loss of his vital energy accelerated severalfold; under the relentless assault, his strength drained rapidly, his complexion turning ashen.

A blade suddenly appeared above him, its murderous intent palpable. With a thunderous crash, it struck the rings enveloping Luo Hao.

A violent tremor wracked Luo Hao’s body; he spat blood, staggering backward, his footing faltering.

Barnard’s Silver Thread Net seized the opportunity, wrapping tightly around Luo Hao, rendering him utterly immobile.

With a sickening squelch, the blade pierced Luo Hao’s body. At last, the masked Moon Envoy of Dark Abyss revealed himself. By his side was Mo Zhaoge of the Mo Clan, emerging from behind an ancient tree, lightning still flickering between his fingers.

Again and again the Moon Envoy drove his sword into Luo Hao, three times in all, his eyes cold and pitiless.

The gravity field slowly dissipated…

“Uncle Luo!” Zhao Xin’s eyes brimmed with tears as he howled in anguish. Arrows whistled through the air, and under the deadly volley, Zhao Xin’s body became a pincushion; unwilling, he collapsed to the ground, dead.

Where Hu Long fled, arrows also flew, but their aim was poor; instead of striking him, they hindered the pursuing members of the Fangs Mercenary Group.

Seizing his chance, Hu Long, eyes bloodshot, sprinted madly through the woods. “Uncle Luo is dead, Zhao Xin is dead—only Miss Mu can avenge them. I must bring her this news…”

“After him!” shouted the mercenaries, but a rain of arrows fell from above, blocking their path.

Grim-faced, the mercenaries realized someone did not wish them to continue the pursuit. Their gazes turned savage as they searched for the archers.

Figures in pale masks emerged from among the trees, interspersed with Mo Clan warriors, each armed with crossbows, their expressions cold and resolute.

“Why did you two kill him?” Barnard frowned at the sudden appearance of the Moon Envoy and Mo Zhaoge. “I don’t believe we’ve met, and yet you lend me your hand. What are you after?”

“We haven’t come to help you,” the Moon Envoy replied, his tone icy as he cast Barnard a sidelong glance. “Luo Hao was our enemy, the enemy of Dark Abyss. We’ve hunted him for some time. In fact, you did us a favor.”

Mo Zhaoge stood to the side, not approaching, brow furrowed. “Envoy, was this man truly the strongest protector of the boy? Now that he’s dead, do we need to waste any more time here?”

The Moon Envoy nodded. “Don’t be hasty. I left some Moonshadow Incense on Hu Long. I had my men let him escape so he could lead us directly to our quarry. We’ll follow the scent and find who we seek.”

“Very well,” Mo Zhaoge smiled faintly. “We’re not far from the Alliance now. Once our task is done, Envoy, would you care to visit the Mo Clan? We can discuss the details of our cooperation at length.”

“No problem,” replied the Moon Envoy.

In just a few days, the Moon Envoy of Dark Abyss and Mo Zhaoge had joined forces, forging a secret pact between their factions.

“So, why did you kill him?” Barnard beckoned his men to gather.

“For a certain young woman, and a very thin boy,” replied Mo Zhaoge with a smile. “I’ve heard much of the Fangs Mercenary Group—your reputation is well-deserved. I am Mo Zhaoge of the Mo Clan under the Alliance. Perhaps you’d be interested in a little business with us?”

“What business?” Barnard’s brow furrowed.

“Profitable business! If you’re interested, we can discuss the terms in detail—I guarantee you’ll be satisfied,” Mo Zhaoge laughed.

“Let’s leave that for now,” Barnard said after a moment’s thought. “If all has gone according to plan, my people should already have your targets. Since you want the girl and the boy, we expect our share in return: the voluptuous female mercenary goes to the Fangs Mercenary Group. Do we have a deal?”

Barnard saw that neither Dark Abyss nor the Mo Clan were to be trifled with. The leaders, the Moon Envoy and Mo Zhaoge, both stood at the Hundred Tribulations level, their strength matching his own. Since they had already struck a private agreement, Barnard knew he could not match the combined might of these two forces and chose to yield.

Mo Zhaoge did not answer, instead glancing at the Moon Envoy.

A cold gleam flashed in the Envoy’s eyes; he nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

“Very well, let’s go retrieve them,” Barnard said, relieved. He had just witnessed their ruthlessness and had no desire to cross these two.

…

Mu Yudie crouched down, carefully bandaging Shi Yan’s wound. Shi Yan sat in silence, face grim, focusing intently on the changes in his shoulder and the purification of Tu Mu’s essence within his acupoints. He paid no heed to Mu Yudie.

“This man is so strange—sometimes he’s utterly shameless, sometimes more upright than a saint…” Mu Yudie mused. Usually, Shi Yan’s gaze was brazen, unrestrained whenever he looked at her. But now, with her so close, their scents mingling, his eyes did not so much as flicker; not a trace of impropriety showed. She found this difficult to understand.

Mu Yudie’s mind was troubled, unable to grasp Shi Yan’s true nature.

Shi Yan narrowed his eyes, his mind turning inward. The cells around his wound were exceedingly active, and even without any effort, he could feel the injury beginning to heal under the influence of the Immortal Martial Soul. The essence from Tu Mu was being purified in his acupoints, and strange negative emotions quietly arose within him.

After unleashing Berserk, his limbs felt powerless, aching fiercely; his strength seemed sapped, a familiar aftereffect that left him uncomfortable but helpless.

Not far away, Di Yalan, having rested for a moment, began searching Tu Mu’s body. After a minute, she brought a small pouch to Mu Yudie and Shi Yan. “He had some food, a few materials from demon beasts, and three Star Thunder bombs. We may not need the beast materials, but these Star Thunder bombs are truly vicious.”

“Star Thunder?” Shi Yan’s eyes lit up as he stared at the fist-sized lumps of blue-black iron. “What do they do?”

“If jarred, they explode, sending razor-sharp shards in all directions—like a burst of stars. The fragments are so sharp and powerful they can pierce even the energy shields of warriors at the Human Realm. These are cruel secret weapons and quite valuable—just these three would fetch at least four or five thousand black crystal coins,” Di Yalan explained.

“Truly vicious! Let me have them.” Shi Yan reached out to take them as if it were only natural.

Heavy footsteps sounded abruptly. Di Yalan tensed, gripping her short sword warily. Shi Yan pushed Mu Yudie aside a bit roughly and, with a cold snort, stood, dagger in hand, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

Hu Long, his chest soaked with blood, eyes red, staggered toward them. Seeing Di Yalan, he burst into tears, choking out, “Uncle Luo and Zhao Xin are dead, Miss Mu—they died so terribly! You must avenge them!”

…