49. The Festival of Vengeance

With the reopening of the Daoist gates, all the major sects were thrown into a state of high alert, an unprecedented sense of crisis enveloping them entirely.

The murder that had occurred in the cemetery was soon determined not to be the work of the Midnight Headsman; it was most likely a copycat attempting to shift suspicion. This meant, however, that the theory of the Midnight Headsman hiding among the Daoists could not be dismissed.

Even so, the Daoist sect insisted on reopening its doors, lifting the soft lockdown on all disciples. Despite ongoing protests from the other sects, the Daoists paid them no heed. Left with no other choice, the major sects could only strengthen their guard, wary of the possible appearance of the Midnight Headsman at any moment.

Tourists who had come to the Kunlun district for the autumn holiday clearly noticed that the level of security at each sect’s scenic area had increased significantly, with disciples patrolling armed at all hours.

This state of tension persisted until the weekend of the second week, just as the autumn holiday was drawing to a close.

Today was Night Pivot City’s traditional festival—the Autumn Festival.

Fireworks would be set off across the region for people to admire, and couples and families would stroll together, enjoying the splendid night views illuminated by bursts of fireworks.

In the Confucian sect’s security room, a disciple yawned helplessly, stretching as he complained, “I’m exhausted... It’s been eight days of overtime already…”

The other disciples in the monitoring room, all with dark circles under their eyes and haggard expressions, stared wearily at the surveillance screens. Stacks of military-grade stimulants were piled beside them, and the floor was littered with empty vials.

In such a peak tourist season, who could tell if the Midnight Headsman might be lurking among the crowds? But even so, the Confucian sect could not afford to give up the holiday influx of visitors.

So, they could only allow tourists to continue entering while working overtime to monitor every critical entrance.

“It’s all because of those damned Daoist bastards!” one disciple cursed, unable to hold back.

Although the Confucian leadership provided them with unlimited stimulants, days spent holed up in the monitoring room took a toll that no drug could relieve. Their nerves were fraying.

“Just… just a short nap…” The disciple monitoring the cameras closed his eyes for a brief rest.

And at that very moment, three figures leapt across a corner of the camera’s view, vaulting over the perimeter wall.

……

Night had fallen. The scenic spots managed by the various sects were long closed, while the streets of Kunlun district’s city center were packed with people.

Dressed in casual clothes, tourists strolled with friends and family, waiting for the fireworks to begin amid the cries of street vendors and the hubbub of the crowd.

When night had fully settled, festival cannons prepared by the major sects would light up the sky.

Though the festive atmosphere filled the streets, the major sects could not share in the joy.

It was supposed to be a cheerful holiday, yet a ghost hovered above their heads—a phantom called “Chu Sect.”

The mounting pressure of the past days had left them physically and mentally exhausted, and now, with the added responsibilities of the Autumn Festival, their defenses were stretched dangerously thin.

“Are we making a move tonight?” Chen Shang opened his phone to find a message from the Midnight Headsman.

“Yes, tonight’s likely to be their weakest defense,” Chen Shang replied.

“What’s the plan?” asked the Midnight Headsman.

“We hit the Confucian sect first. You break through the front; we’ll cover you.”

“Alright!” the Midnight Headsman responded, and his avatar faded gray.

Meanwhile, Chen Shang and his companions had already infiltrated the Confucian sect with the help of a map.

“What exactly is your plan?” Yashuang Yiqian gripped a fox mask in her hand, whispering.

“It’s not as complicated as it sounds,” Chen Shang replied calmly, slipping on his black-rimmed glasses. “We break them one by one.”

Within the Midnight Headsman was an engine known as the “Core of the Earth,” which elevated his abilities far beyond human limits.

[Base Attributes: Strength 9, Constitution 8, Dexterity 8, Intelligence 1, Inspiration 8, Charisma 3]

This was the Midnight Headsman’s stat panel.

Its purpose was twofold:

1. Most of his attributes, including Inspiration, were above 5. In other words, he could see things ordinary people could not.

2. Facing the sects whose disciples averaged attributes of 3–4, the Midnight Headsman could charge in and sweep through them unhindered.

The reason the Midnight Headsman failed before was that his identity had been uncovered by Xu Qing, and in a reactive position, he’d been hunted by a coalition of the sects.

In other words, if the Midnight Headsman decided to attack a sect alone, that sect would suffer catastrophic losses in a single night—perhaps even face annihilation.

The only reason he hadn’t launched a frontal assault before, instead choosing to kill from the shadows, was simply that he hadn’t truly made up his mind.

“Can I really defeat them alone? What will I do after vengeance is done? If I kill them all, will my family truly rest in peace?”

These were not the thoughts of a saint or a coward, but the natural hesitations of any person.

Chen Shang’s task was simply to give him that final push.

Soon, alarms blared throughout the Confucian sect.

“Get ready—there’s a masked swordsman charging up from the foot of the mountain!”

“Could it be the Midnight Headsman? Of all times…”

“Wait, let me put my pants on!”

Red warning lights flashed throughout the Confucian sect as disciples sprang into action.

Before long, a black-clad swordsman wearing a bronze skull mask broke through the main gate and stormed into the heart of the Confucian household.

The Midnight Headsman flicked blood from his sword, his bloodshot eyes scanning the surroundings.

Clearly, the underlings at the foot of the mountain were no match for him.

But as he cut through the gate, he found himself facing a vast, empty plaza.

The plaza, covering an area the size of three football fields, was devoid of cover and offered nowhere to hide.

To reach the upper-level munitions factory, he would have to cross this open ground.

The Midnight Headsman snorted and strode quickly toward the exit on the far side.

But halfway across, something strange occurred.

Lights began to flicker throughout the plaza, and the air itself shimmered with distortion.

Then, the Midnight Headsman faintly heard the chanting of many voices:

“With this object, I teleport five miles!”

In the next instant, dozens of tanks appeared across the plaza as if by teleportation, lined up in neat rows.

Beside each tank stood a Confucian disciple clutching a Haoran scripture scroll.

“What a sight! Teleporting an entire army onto the battlefield—it’s just too cool…” Watching through an aerial camera, Black Kalis’s eyes shone with excitement, and she couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration.

Within the Haoran scriptures of the Confucian sect was a skill called “Quantum Teleportation.” Its basic principle was to disassemble molecules and reassemble them elsewhere in space.

Due to its extreme instability, it required constant adjustment. During its development, the Confucian sect had sacrificed countless resources in testing.

At the pinnacle of mastery, a disciple could teleport with lifeless objects as large as a tank.

In the regular course of the game’s story, the Midnight Headsman was caught off guard by the Confucian sect’s “air-dropped army.”

Realizing he’d fallen into a trap, the Midnight Headsman’s expression shifted; he tried to retreat.

But the Confucian sect would not give him that chance.

Boom!

With a thunderous roar, the tank barrels spat fire one after another, launching a dazzling bombardment at the Midnight Headsman.

Instantly, the plaza was engulfed in smoke and flying debris.

As the dust cleared, the Midnight Headsman’s clothes were in tatters, half his body a mangled mass of flesh and exposed bone.

New flesh soon began to knit over his wounds, struggling to repair him.

But the tanks weren’t about to wait. Before he could finish regenerating, they loaded a second volley and fired again.

“Hey! Planner, what the hell is going on?” The Midnight Headsman pulled out his phone, furious, and called Chen Shang.

Of course, Chen Shang hadn’t given him his real name—he was simply known as “the Planner.”

“You charged in too fast, swordsman,” Chen Shang replied coolly. “We’re almost ready on our end. Right, Miss Hacker?”

“These third-rate firewalls are a piece of cake~” Black Kalis replied cheerfully.

At that moment, Chen Shang and the others were standing in a room filled with control consoles, the floor strewn with the bodies of Confucian disciples.

Most had been cut down by a katana, while a few bore burns from energy rounds.

This was the Confucian sect’s tactical command room, responsible for monitoring the battle and issuing orders.

It also controlled the remote-operated weapons—like the tanks just teleported onto the plaza.

Black Kalis’s metallic fingers danced across the consoles. Finding the pace too slow, she drew a data cable from the back of her head and plugged it into a port.

Not long after, she snapped her fingers with delight and laughed, “Zi-ha-ha! I’m in—just as expected of me!”

Chen Shang nodded and asked over the phone, “How’s it going on your end?”

“…”

A long silence, then:

“I think… the tanks… have started firing on their own people?”