Chapter 262 The Scam
“Yang Yi? What did you do, you brat!”
Some people, still unclear about the situation, questioned him loudly.
When Li Wen saw the door open, she immediately felt a sense of alarm. She quietly retreated, putting a considerable distance between herself and the spire. She didn’t believe that the Soul Lord would be freed from his seal so smoothly. Even if he were to appear, someone who had already died once wouldn’t pose much of a threat, otherwise, he wouldn’t have had to depend on players to survive. However, this didn’t mean there was no danger behind the door; whatever was inside might be even more terrifying than the deceased Soul Lord.
Amidst the gazes of vigilance, jubilation, confusion, and disbelief from everyone, the ancient spire began to disintegrate in a slow yet irreversible manner.
The complex and profound magic runes carved onto the tower’s surface, which had flowed for ages, were now being erased from the stone bit by bit as if by an invisible hand. Starting from the base, their light gradually dimmed, extinguished, and finally vanished as if they had never existed. As the runes disappeared, the iridescent magic barrier enveloping the entire spire let out a crisp, mournful cry like shattering glass, then it fractured into countless brilliant motes of light, slowly dissipating in the dark underwater space.
The scattered mana roamed freely within the ruins, mixing with the existing aether to form a powerful surge of magical turbulence.
Deprived of the magic’s support, the green stone that formed the tower began to weather and peel. Huge blocks of stone fell from the top of the tower but turned to dust before they even hit the ground. The entire spire seemed to have its skeleton removed, disintegrating layer by layer from top to bottom, finally collapsing into inconspicuous debris and powder amidst a sky full of dust.
The plaza fell into a deathly silence. As the dust slowly dispersed, a solitary figure became clearly visible to everyone.
It was a figure in white robes, sitting cross-legged. He was seated on the central foundation of the former spire, his body emaciated, as if all his flesh and moisture had been drained by the years. He wore a simple, almost worn-out white mage’s robe, devoid of any ornate patterns. Only the cuffs and collar were embroidered with faded crescent moons and morning stars in silver thread. His hands rested flat on his knees, his eyes closed, and his wrinkled face showed no expression. If not for the extremely faint rise and fall of his chest, one might have mistaken him for a well-preserved mummy.
This appearance was vastly different from the ferocious and terrifying image of the Soul Lord, who wielded death, as described in legends.
“Who are you? Where is my great master?” Seeing the figure in white robes, Joseph’s ecstatic joy and anticipation instantly froze, replaced by extreme shock and disbelief. His scarlet eyes stared intently at the withered figure on the pedestal, the flesh and skin on his face wriggling and changing due to the violent emotional fluctuation.
He had schemed for decades and suffered endless curses and pain for an unknown period, all for the sake of welcoming his master’s return. Yet now, as the cage collapsed, what awaited him was not the great monarch he had longed for day and night, but a dying, seemingly harmless old mage.
This drastic drop from heaven to abyss almost shattered his sanity.
Yang Yi, who had caused all this, initially watched the old man with excitement, thinking he had finally accomplished something significant. Even though it was in a game, it was enough to brag about for a long time.
But soon, this brief and illusory sense of achievement was shattered by the cold reality. He suddenly realized something was wrong. The voice that had constantly echoed in his mind, the voice that had guided him and promised him supreme power and glory, seemed to have vanished without a trace the moment the spire collapsed. Now, only a deathly, heart-pounding silence remained.
“Hello? Are you there? Answer me quickly!”
“Come out! Didn’t you say you would give me power once this was done? Where are my mission rewards?”
No matter how anxiously Yang Yi inquired, called out, or even pleaded with a hint of tears, the voice in his mind offered no further response. The fervor and excitement on his face quickly faded, replaced by a bone-chilling coldness and panic, his face as pale as a corpse.
Amidst the chaos of the spire’s collapse, only one person’s goal remained unwavering.
Spade K’s gaze swept quickly over the old mage, his eyes filled with greed undiminished by this sudden turn of events. He cared not for any Soul Lord, nor for who this old man was. In his eyes, this was nothing more than an elite monster or NPC guarding a treasure chest. He only cared about the sole objective of his journey.
“Hey! Old man!” he shouted loudly towards the figure on the pedestal, his voice filled with impatience and a sense of entitlement, “Where is the divine artifact used for the seal? The one that’s very powerful, hand it over quickly!”
Upon hearing this, the withered figure, who had been sitting there for who knows how many years, finally moved. His eyelids, like withered bark, trembled slightly, and then, slowly, he opened his eyes.
They were eyes that were cloudy and tired, yet so profound as to seem to contain the entire night sky and endless eons of time.
The moment he opened his eyes, the magical turbulence caused by the spire’s collapse around them strangely subsided. His calm gaze swept over everyone in the plaza, over the frenzied Joseph, the extremely anxious and pale Yang Yi, the greedy Spade K, and the ever-vigilant Li Wen and Moria. Finally, his gaze fell upon the boisterous Spade K. On his face, which was as still as a placid lake, a faint, mocking, and weary smile finally formed its curve.
“Seal? Divine artifact?”
His voice carried a peculiar rhythm. Although dry and weak, it could be clearly heard by everyone.
“There has never been such a thing.”
The aged mage slowly stood up. His emaciated body seemed to sway precariously beneath the loose white robes, as if he could be blown over by a gust of wind at any moment. However, the profound, sea-like aura of magic that gradually emanated from him made it impossible for anyone to underestimate him. It was a pure, awe-inspiring power belonging to a spellcaster.
“For the past century, I have been the seal, and this place has been the prison.”
He raised his withered, branch-like hand and pointed to the ruins beneath his feet. The mocking curve of his lips deepened.
“Let me guess, you people managed to get here by naively believing that lying woman, Sivell?”
