Nobody spoke in the somber, oppressive tunnel.
The Grand Duke possessed his own pride as a ruler, and he clearly was not in a good mood. Tang Cuo had his pride as well—as a noble, valorous knight, he could hardly be seen striking up a friendship with a frivolous, carefree traveling bard.
The bard himself felt a bit wronged.
Jin Cheng hadn’t idly stood by earlier to watch the show on purpose. In truth, he had been dying to lend a hand, but his mechanical bow was locked by the system. Whenever he tried to pull out a different weapon, system warnings would chime frantically in his ear, practically screaming, “Just try moving a finger, and I dare you to see if I don’t crush you right now.”
Did Jin Cheng dare to move? No, he did not.
His current Main Mission was to wait for the opportune moment and rendezvous with the Grand Duke. The moment Tang Cuo escorted the Grand Duke away from the carriage was precisely that cue.
The tunnel itself was a mission hint. Jin Cheng had a hunch they would uncover something down here, and sure enough, after walking for about fifteen minutes, he spotted the familiar emblem of the Rose Sect carved into the tunnel wall.
A golden inverted pentagram encircling a red rose.
Gazing at the magic lamps positioned every ten meters down the passage and then at the emblem, Tang Cuo remarked, “We need to move faster. If this secret passage belongs to the Rose Sect, our pursuers won’t be far behind.”
Tang Cuo couldn’t say for certain whether the assassins targeting the Grand Duke originated from the Rose Sect. But within this mission scenario, the sect undoubtedly played the part of the primary antagonist. Even if the assassins took a roundabout path, they would inevitably be linked back to it.
The Grand Duke’s expression darkened even further. “It seems their ambitions go beyond my life. I fear this isn’t the only secret passage dug beneath the city.”
Jin Cheng shrugged. Matters of state were hardly something a humble traveling bard could voice an opinion on.
The trio pressed onward. The White Leaf District seemed remarkably distant; even after half an hour of walking, there was no sign of the exit, while the footsteps of their pursuers drew steadily closer. As the valiant knight Theodore, Tang Cuo naturally took it upon himself to guard the rear.
“You two go on ahead.”
“Alright.”
Jin Cheng ushered the Grand Duke forward without a second’s hesitation, earning a surprised side-glance from the old noble. With no time to offer an explanation, Jin Cheng spotted a turn in the passage ahead and asked as they ran, “Your Grace, do you know how much farther we have until the White Leaf District?”
Panting slightly from the sprint, the Grand Duke replied, “At least another half hour.”
Jin Cheng rested his fingers on the strings of the small lap harp, attempting once more to unleash a sonic attack, but the mechanical ding-ding warning prompts chimed right on schedule.
“Looks like we’ll have to pick up the pace.” A smile remained fixed on Jin Cheng’s lips, but his eyes turned icy cold. Without waiting for the Grand Duke’s reply, he hoisted the ruler over his shoulder and surged forward at full speed.
The Grand Duke was a ruler through and through; though caught entirely off-guard by the unceremonious posture, he clamped his lips shut and didn’t utter a single complaint. Looking back over Jin Cheng’s shoulder at Tang Cuo, who was falling behind, he urged, “That young man must not die for my sake.”
Jin Cheng replied, “Rest assured, Your Grace. As long as you remain breathing, he won’t die either.”
Tang Cuo was currently holding his ground just fine.
Only two pursuers had caught up so far—a mage and a swordsman. Tang Cuo wasn’t sure if the swordsman qualified as a knight; among the nobility, there were likely formal distinctions for such titles.
While Tang Cuo couldn’t cast complex spells while engaged in swordplay, aside from his self-taught magic, he possessed the Small Fireball spell awarded by the system. Though classified as trash-tier, it launched a fireball with a radius of 2.5 centimeters every two seconds for a duration of ten seconds.
The miniature fireball possessed virtually no offensive power, but it was more than enough to disrupt a spellcaster’s concentration.
The enemy mage had never expected Tang Cuo to wield magic. Standing casually behind his martial companion, he had been mid-incantation when a tiny fireball smacked him directly in the face.
Smack!
He recoiled instinctively, raising his staff to cast a Freezing spell, but the tiny fireball vanished before the ice could even materialize, as if mocking him.
His face turned livid.
Just then, another fireball zoomed straight at his head.
“How dare you mock me!” the mage spat, unable to contain his fury. He was convinced Tang Cuo was using these pathetic embers purely to humiliate him, as even the greenest magic apprentice could cast a proper fireball larger than this.
Tang Cuo remained expressionless, seamlessly launching another Small Fireball right on the heels of the last one.
Clang!
The swordsman intercepted Tang Cuo once more, eager to cut past him to pursue the Grand Duke, yet he approached the young knight with newfound caution. Tang Cuo’s blade looked plain, but the radiance flaring across the steel during every clash was domineering, carrying an almost unyielding power that left the swordsman’s wrists numb after just a few blows.
Tang Cuo fought with broad, sweeping strokes. Having never received formal training in refined sword techniques, he relied entirely on the fundamental basics—slashing, hacking, and thrusting. Relying on the sheer power of the Sword of Judgment in his grip, his style was wildly aggressive and unrelenting.
Attack, attack, and attack—substituting absolute offense for defense, using the weapon’s innate power to mask his own technical shortcomings, he exerted continuous psychological pressure on his opponent until—
Crack!
The enemy’s blade fractured, and the swordsman’s composure shattered right along with it.
Tang Cuo pressed his advantage, side-stepping the stunned swordsman to charge straight for the mage. Barely thirty seconds had elapsed since his first fireball. The mage, intent on obliterating Tang Cuo with a high-tier spell, had just finished his lengthy incantation when he found the tip of Tang Cuo’s blade driving toward his chest.
Pfft.
Tang Cuo’s sword ran the mage through the heart, but the fully cast spell could no longer be aborted.
Reacting instantly, Tang Cuo threw himself backward.
BOOM!
The spell detonated in front of him, the blast wave catching even the enemy swordsman. Tang Cuo executed a sharp backward roll to evade the brunt of the explosion. It was a messy dodge that tore the wound on his arm wider, but he avoided taking any new lethal damage.
Downing half a bottle of Healing Potion, Tang Cuo turned without looking back, charging sword-first back toward the direction he had come from.
More enemies were approaching.
As for the swordsman with the shattered blade, if he still insisted on chasing after Jin Cheng, he was free to try—it would be nothing short of a death wish.
Weighing his options, the swordsman gritted his teeth and sprinted down the tunnel after the Grand Duke. This passage led to the White Leaf District—a sprawling slum teeming with all walks of life, making it a far easier place to strike than the inner city. Even if he couldn’t complete the kill himself, he had to pass word of the Grand Duke’s whereabouts so the target wouldn’t reach the palace alive.
Yet before he had run for more than a few minutes, Tang Cuo ambushed him from behind.
Clang!
The swordsman scrambled to parry with his broken blade, horror surging through his chest. He had clearly seen several of his allies enter the tunnel behind him; how had this young knight managed to catch up so fast?
He had no way of knowing that the moment Tang Cuo saw the enemy reinforcements, he had turned on his heel and sprinted off.
Tang Cuo was retreating, yet he fought like a demon.
armed with a broken weapon, the swordsman was no match for the Sword of Judgment. Knocked back by a heavy blow, he could only watch in disbelief as Tang Cuo dashed past him. Enhanced by boosted physical stats and the Sprint skill, Tang Cuo moved faster than most fully trained adult knights.
Stunned for a moment, the swordsman scrambled to give chase, regrouping with the incoming reinforcements. With no time for words, the group of fifteen or sixteen pursuers surged forward together.
Tang Cuo fought a defensive retreat. Wounds accumulated across his body, but the horde behind him grew larger and larger.
Spotting a sharp bend in the passage ahead, Tang Cuo kicked off the wall, using his blade to shear off the overhead magic lamp. The moment the tunnel plunged into darkness, his figure vanished from sight.
The pursuers grew wary, but given their superior numbers and the mages in their ranks, a caster quickly cast a Light spell to dispel the shadows. Maintaining their pace, they pressed onward around the bend.
Yet the moment they rounded the corner, a blinding flare of light erupted before the lead man’s eyes.
What is that…?
It was the final thought of his life. The light expanded in his pupils until it swallowed him whole.
Like a surging tide under a moonlit night, it carried a surreal, ethereal brilliance. Wherever it washed over, everything dissolved into radiant moonlight, leaving not a speck of dust behind.
Tang Cuo stepped out from behind the bend, absently touching the bronze ring on his finger. The legendary ring Nightingale possessed the active skill Moonlight Tide, carrying a 24-hour cooldown.
A legendary item truly lived up to its name—the skill’s destructive force was absolute and overwhelming.
Twenty minutes later, Tang Cuo reunited with Jin Cheng and the Grand Duke at the tunnel’s exit. Jin Cheng had already stepped outside to scout the area, returning just as Tang Cuo arrived to coordinate their next move.
“The situation outside isn’t ideal. The exit leads directly into the storeroom of a small tavern. If I had to guess, this tavern serves as a secret contact point for the Rose Sect; otherwise, the tunnel wouldn’t terminate here. If we get spotted, we’ll be trapped like rats in a barrel.”
Tang Cuo asked, “What if we pose as patrons? They shouldn’t recognize us.”
Jin Cheng shook his head. “Unlikely to work. Even if we’re unfamiliar faces, the Grand Duke’s appearance is too distinct. Furthermore, the storeroom is poorly situated—it’s farther from the back door than the main entrance, and regular patrons don’t wander back here. Only staff frequent this area. Unless someone creates a distraction to draw them away, allowing the other two to slip out unnoticed.”
Their eyes met, reaching a silent consensus instantly: Jin Cheng would draw off the tavern staff, while Tang Cuo escorted the Grand Duke out.
The Grand Duke watched from the side, mystified by how these two young men had divided their duties with a single glance. But with his life hanging in the balance, he refrained from asking unnecessary questions, simply stating, “Head for the cathedral. Pastor Peter is one of my loyal men; he can contact the Royal Guard.”
“Understood,” Jin Cheng agreed. “We’ll meet at the cathedral in one hour.”
With time running short and pursuers potentially closing in from behind, Jin Cheng acted without delay. The storeroom was filled with barrels of liquor; he casually grabbed a bottle of rum, took several heavy swigs, and splashed some over his collar before grabbing his small lap harp and pushing through the door.
He staggered along like a drunken patron. Sure enough, after a few steps, he nearly collided with a waiter carrying a wooden bucket. Seeing him, the waiter frowned instantly, his expression brimming with suspicion.
“Who are you?” The waiter set the bucket down, sliding one hand behind his back.
“Who am I? I’m looking for the latrine!” Jin Cheng squinted, slurring his words as if too drunk to focus. Suddenly, he tripped over his own feet, stumbling forward and nearly tumbling into the bucket.
The waiter didn’t drop his guard, the blade hidden behind his back reflecting a cold glint. Little did he know that his murderous expression was clearly mirrored on the water’s surface, fully caught by Jin Cheng.
Pluck!
A single note echoed from the harp. The waiter’s hand froze on his dagger, his eyes faltering.
Pluck, pluck!
As a string of notes followed, the waiter’s gaze went completely vacant. Seizing the moment, Jin Cheng delivered a swift knife-hand strike to the back of his neck, knocking him unconscious, before shoving him into an adjacent room.
Door opened, man stashed, door closed—all in one fluid motion.
The melody he had just played was Requiem. The moment he stepped out of the tunnel to act independently, Jin Cheng had noticed his Main Mission update, unlocking his sonic attacks in the process.
His bow, however, remained sealed.
In a roleplay scenario, everything had to align with the character’s core setup. Lancelot was a magic-wielding bard whose small lap harp served as his focus; he had no proficiency with a mechanical bow.
【Current Main Mission: Cover the retreat of the Grand Duke and Theodore.】
Jin Cheng preferred missions like this—taking the initiative suited his nature far better. Strumming his harp, he strolled casually from the storeroom into the main hall, humming a light tune. By all appearances, he looked every bit the carefree traveling bard.
However, the area of effect for Requiem was limited, and as it was Jin Cheng’s first time playing it on the small lap harp, his execution was somewhat unpracticed. The suspicious staff members were hyper-vigilant, so not everyone fell under the spell.
Chaos quickly erupted inside the tavern.
Taking advantage of the commotion, Tang Cuo and the Grand Duke slipped into the storeroom. Looking at the racks of liquor, Tang Cuo initially considered setting the place ablaze, but hearing the uproar up front, he abandoned the dangerous thought.
By then, the guards stationed at the back exit had rushed toward the main hall to assist, leaving only a single guard behind.
“Let’s go.” Decisive as ever, Tang Cuo led the Grand Duke straight for the rear exit.
A single guard was no match for Tang Cuo. Unconcerned with whether the man managed to raise an alarm, Tang Cuo subdued him instantly and sprinted out. By the time the main hall’s staff realized what had happened and rushed to the back, the alley was completely deserted.
The back door opened into a narrow, dingy alleyway. Low-lying residential shacks lined one side, while the rear entrances of various shops bordered the other, cluttering the space with piled debris that gave off a foul stench in the early summer heat.
A few middle-aged women sat on small stools washing stacks of dishes and cups, casting wary glances at the two out-of-place figures who had suddenly appeared in their midst.
“Your Grace, I believe you need a change of clothes,” Tang Cuo said.
Fifteen minutes later, Tang Cuo and the Grand Duke—now dressed in commoner’s attire—appeared three streets away from the tavern. Tang Cuo hadn’t changed his outfit, merely donning an outer cloak matching his style to conceal his bloodstains and wounds. He had to keep his longsword ready for self-defense, and a commoner could hardly justify carrying a knight’s longsword—nor could he stash it into his inventory right in front of the Grand Duke.
Thus, their cover was that of a wealthy noble youth out seeking entertainment in the slums, accompanied by his pitiful old servant.
【Current Main Mission: Head to the Cathedral.】
Posing as an arrogant noble youth, Tang Cuo surveyed his surroundings with blatant disdain, easily spotting suspicious individuals lurking within the crowds.
The closer they got to the cathedral, the more numerous these spotters became.
“Your Grace, do you place absolute trust in this pastor?” Tang Cuo asked.
“Human hearts are ever prone to change.” The Grand Duke gazed toward the cathedral spire, his expression solemn. Despite his commoner clothes, his authoritative air remained intact. Glancing at Tang Cuo, he added, “Yet I trust him. He is an upright and benevolent man, and his steadfast commitment has always earned my admiration.”
“Steadfast in what?”
“Steadfast in remaining within this soil where suffering breeds.”
“This soil is also your realm, Your Grace.”
“Young man, you must understand that certain things cannot be altered so easily. God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and light came to be; yet light and darkness are destined to coexist.”
Tang Cuo wanted to shrug off the philosophical speech like Jin Cheng would, but ultimately decided his usual expressionless demeanor suited him better. He couldn’t be sure if word of the Grand Duke’s escape to the White Leaf District had reached the enemy. If they knew, and were aware of the Grand Duke’s connection to the pastor, they would almost certainly lay a trap here.
Reality proved the cathedral was indeed being watched. Tang Cuo could only pray the pastor hadn’t turned traitor—because turning back wasn’t an option.
The system was continuously adjusting his path, blasting frantic warning prompts whenever he veered off the trajectory toward the cathedral. Tang Cuo doubted Theodore was the sort of fool to walk blindly into an obvious trap; thus, in the original narrative, there had to be an overriding reason to reach the building.
Perhaps the cathedral held some power or defense that guaranteed the Grand Duke’s safety once inside.
And then there was the Greenvines Alliance.
Was Theodore’s rescue of the Grand Duke a personal act, or was it sanctioned by the Alliance? If it was the latter, why hadn’t any other members shown up yet?
The narrative hints were far too sparse. Tang Cuo pondered the pieces as he walked, still unable to grasp the full picture. But just as the cathedral’s spire came into view in the distance, he sensed a surge of magic radiating from it like a rippling wave, expanding outward at breakneck speed.
Not good.
Ignoring the system prompts, he grabbed the Grand Duke and surged backward. But human speed was no match for the spreading pulse of magic, which reached them in the blink of an eye.
Tang Cuo shielded the Grand Duke behind him, raising his blade to fully channel the Sacred Radiance of Judgment, hoping it would provide some defense. Yet the expected impact never came; instead, a translucent barrier of light descended from above, enveloping them both.
HUMMM!
The ripple of magic collided with the barrier, setting off a low harmonic hum. Tang Cuo felt his mind rattle from the shockwave, but he sustained no actual harm.
Looking up, he spotted a figure suspended in midair. The man wore a black double-breasted long coat and carried a black cane. His back was turned toward Tang Cuo, obscuring his face, though a black eyepatch over his right eye was faintly visible. The cane appeared to serve as his wand; raising it horizontally, the black gemstone at its tip burst into a brilliant glow.
An instant cast without a single spoken incantation.
The Grand Duke exhaled a long breath of relief. “Overseer Roger Reeds.”
