https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-133-Withered-Wraith-and-Death-Knight/13676286/
Chapter 132: Twilight Grove
Sleeping Mermaid Tavern.
A wooden signboard bore a lifelike carving of a mermaid, her scales glinting under the dim light.
This was one of the most renowned taverns within Northwind Keep—and a secret gathering spot for Pure-Blooded Serpent Spies. Their innkeeper had long since been bought with gold coins, willingly becoming a loyal servant of Ashen Hollow.
Now, the city was in chaos.
The City Defense Force was too busy repelling the invasion of the Dragon Vein Forces to spare a single glance elsewhere. As a result, the tavern had become a brazen, open meeting ground for Ashen Hollow’s forces.
The four-member party pushed through the door, greeted by a bustling crowd. Players milled about, voices rising in conversation.
“Boss lady, got any烈艳红唇?”
“听说喝了那玩意能 stack an Excited state.”
“This place charges more than Bathor City!”
Stuffed Bun sighed, eyes wide. “So many people…”
Xia Ye Qiu Yu murmured under her breath, “I thought we were the only ones who got this Special Quest.”
Singo scanned the room with a practiced eye, instantly recognizing the familiar faces.
Bazhe of Royal Power. Steel Tide of the Mechanical Cult. Charlotte of Magic Coins. Alpha of the Golden Age.
Every major guild’s elite player was here. Any Player who’d arrived at the tavern after accepting the quest had almost certainly reached the Level Cap of the Internal Test Version—Level 4. In Ailezegai, that placed them among the top-tier Adventurers, the backbone of the profession—far from ordinary.
Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang sneered at a nearby figure—The Overlord—then let out a sharp, dismissive “Tch.”
Singo lowered his voice. “War Fury Brother, don’t waste energy on Royal Power’s ego. Focus on the important Non-Player Character.”
He gestured subtly with his gaze.
There, at the center of the room, sat Alje and Meizhuolashi at a wooden table, two glasses of wine before them.
Though they’d once been at odds, now, united by a common enemy—Brad Lakanman—they had set aside their differences to plan their next move.
Facing their enemy, Alje was visibly agitated, a mix of adrenaline and unease. After a pause, he finally spoke.
“I’ve lived around here for years. I know the hidden paths into Lakanman Castle. Our only chance is to sneak in.”
“Then… we kill him.”
Meizhuolashi nodded slowly, sipping his wine. “Simple. Brutal. But you’re forgetting one thing—you’ve been away for years. Now Ashen Hollow is about to storm the city. That meticulous old vampire… would he really not prepare?”
Alje’s dragon face flickered with surprise, but he pressed on. “We have no other choice. If he completes his Ascension, the consequences will be catastrophic.”
Meizhuolashi chuckled softly. “True. These Stellarfallen are immortal. And you and I… we should’ve been dead long ago. So fear of death? Irrelevant.”
He pointed to the Internal Map of Northern Wind Keep laid out on the table.
“Given the importance of the Ascension Rite, the main roads will be heavily guarded. So we go this way—through the Dark Path, behind Lakanman’s Back Garden.”
“Good.” Meizhuolashi rose slowly, his voice echoing through the tavern.
“Warriors, it’s time to move.”
“Stop this Ascension, and Master will reward you beyond measure.”
Instantly, the eyes of over twenty elite Players burned with fervor, fixed upon him.
Meizhuolashi knew exactly how to command men.
Outside Lakanman Castle, at the edge of Twilight Grove.
The dense forest wrapped around the ancient fortress like a shroud, cutting it off from the outside world.
Towering trees stretched toward the sky, their gnarled trunks bearing bark like old, scarred wounds.
Deep darkness seeped through the undergrowth, blurring the line between day and night.
Twisted branches swayed in the wind, whispering in a language that chilled the soul.
Ancient, skeletal trees reached out like grasping hands, their thorny limbs coiling like claws.
In the heart of the woods, howls echoed—raw, desperate, and endless.
Alje stared into the shadows, his expression grim.
“No… this wasn’t like this before.”
“What has Brad Lakanman done to this place in the years I’ve been gone?”
Meizhuolashi smirked. “Maybe he’s bred a pack of loyal watchdogs to guard his home.”
“Then we’ll have to be careful.”
“Let’s go.”
Without hesitation, Alje and the others plunged into the forest.
Walking down a narrow path choked with vines, Stuffed Bun felt a faint rustling behind him. A chill ran down his spine.
“Damn… this place isn’t just creepy. There’s something out there.”
“Wait—something’s on my back!”
A cold brush against his neck sent him leaping forward with a shout.
Cold sweat poured down his face as he whirled around—only to see twisted vines dangling from a branch.
He exhaled in relief, then turned to Singo. “This place is cursed. Let’s just keep moving—no time to waste.”
Singo didn’t mock him. His face was stone.
Because just a moment ago, he’d noticed something: the bushes ahead had shifted, just slightly—like they’d moved toward them.
“Keep going,” he said, voice tight.
Stuffed Bun trudged forward, head down—but curiosity got the better of him. He glanced back.
The vines had changed position.
Now, they looked like a skeletal arm, reaching.
His breath caught in his throat.
The rustling grew louder, more insistent—like something alive, writhing in the dark.
Whispers, fragmented and terrified, filled the air.
“It’s alive…”
“Don’t leave me…”
“Grab my hand—save me…”
But no one in the group had spoken.
Xia Ye Qiu Yu’s face had gone pale. Sweat dripped from her chin. Her voice trembled.
“D-do you hear that? The voices…”
Singo’s voice was low, grim.
“I hear them too.”
“That’s not monster growl. Sounds more like… the last words of a dying victim.”
Stuffed Bun froze. “Don’t—don’t scare me like that!”
“Look around,” Singo urged.
Stuffed Bun turned.
The darkness wasn’t still.
It was moving.
The shadows writhed, pulsing like a living thing.
At the front of the group, Alje raised his Everburning Greatsword.
Flames roared to life, casting a fiery glow across the forest.
The light revealed the horrors beneath the trees.
Twisted roots, gnarled branches, and writhing vines coiled together—slowly, unnaturally—forming grotesque, shambling Ghostly Forms.
Their bodies were stitched from dead wood, thorns, and tangled vines.
Among them, remnants of human remains still clung to the roots—flesh half-digested, blood still oozing from thick, pulsing roots.
Alje clenched his teeth, roaring over the rising dread.
“Battle formation!
Damn it—this forest is alive!”
(End of Chapter)
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