"What brings you both here?"
The guard at the entrance asked.
"We heard that General Qiao was taken by a dragon, and we wondered if it might be the work of soone with malicious intent,"
Thankhun replied with a serious expression.
"Don't worry, we're guarding this area strictly under the general's orders. No one can infiltrate the detention area!"
The guard answered confidently.
"Don't be so sure. Didn't they already turn your frontline camp into rubble? This ti, they might send a skilled infiltrator without you even knowing,"
Thankhun continued, his tone grave, persuading the guard to believe him. The guard led Thankhun and Chang Long inside to inspect the area. After ensuring everything was in order, he turned to smile at them—and the lights went out as Chang Long struck him hard on the head with the torch handle.
"Chang Long!"
Thankhun exclaid, stunned.
"Let's go. We've wasted enough ti on him,"
she said curtly, leading the way. Thankhun had no choice but to follow quickly, fearing her piercing glare if he hesitated.
Click!
"Oh, you're quick to show up,"
"Shut it, old man. Let's go!"
Chang Long barked. The prisoner furrowed his brow at her urgency. As he glanced around, noticing the absence of patrolling guards, his eyes widened in realization.
"You didn't…"
"We didn't kill them. Now move so we can get out of here."
Chang Long ordered. Lifting the Sovereign Sword, she easily slashed the thick chains binding the cell door down in a single, swift motion. The prisoner laughed heartily and followed Chang Long and Thankhun out of the detention area.
While the search party had been sent out, tension in the camp increased. Guard patrols doubled in number. When they reached the entrance and saw soldiers patrolling in every direction, Chang Long and Thankhun held their heads in frustration.
"What now?"
Chang Long asked Thankhun again. He shook his head, unable to co up with a plan. Chang Long closed her eyes and began focusing.
"Little Jade, Little Jade, where are you?"
She tried to ntally communicate with the dragon, who had been tasked with distracting the camp by kidnapping General Qiao.
"I'm busy here. This general is more trouble than I expected. He's been stabbing my mouth with his sword, and now I'm in so much pain!"
Little Jade snapped back through their ntal link.
"I feel like swallowing him whole!"
"Look! That couple—those two—they're here to rescue the prisoner."
The previously unconscious guard that Chang Long had hit shouted loudly, catching the attention of every patrolling soldier. Chang Long and Thankhun froze in shock, realizing that they were at an extre disadvantage in this critical situation. Soldiers began turning toward them.
Suddenly, the hands of Chang Long and Thankhun released from each other as if by a miracle. They both understood the implication of their freedom—it always signified imminent danger.
The soldiers in the area imdiately ford ranks, surrounding Chang Long and her group, cutting off any chance of escape.
"So this is how you repay General Qiao's trust. It turns out you're spies sent to free the prisoner!"
The officer barked fiercely. Though he regretted the necessity of fighting such a beautiful woman as Chang Long, he could not spare her life since she was now deed an enemy.
"Step aside. We don't want to hurt you,"
Chang Long said in a calm voice. The officer burst out laughing at her words. A slender woman like her, harm battle-hardened soldiers like them? Perhaps the man standing beside her could be a threat, but their group was vastly outnumbered—there was no chance they could win.
"Hahaha. Don't make laugh, little girl. What could a handful of you possibly do against us!"
Chang Long exhaled sharply through her nose, frustrated by how dense these NPCs seed. Gripping her sword tightly, she stepped forward and assud a stance with her right foot forward. She swung her sword in a powerful arc, creating a gust of wind that sent the soldiers reeling. Their uniforms tore, and their stunned expressions as they looked at Chang Long mirrored those of Thankhun and the prisoner. Thankhun could not help but wonder how soone with a base level of three could unleash such devastating power.
"Will you move now? Next ti, it won't just be your clothes that get torn,"
Chang Long said sharply. The soldiers hesitated. Despite their fear, they refused to let it compromise their honor as warriors nor let them go. Chang Long sighed again at their deanor and get into the sa stance, preparing to swing her sword once more. Panic-stricken, the soldiers scattered, unknowingly opening a path for the group.
"Go!"
Chang Long grabbed the prisoner's arm and bolted, with Thankhun close behind. Passing the prisoner to Thankhun, she grabbed his wrist and activated Mystic Gust, her secret skill. The trio soared into the air, leaving the astonished soldiers far behind.
Before long, they had escaped the secret military camp, but they did not stop running. They knew they were still far from safe. Chang Long and Thankhun clung to each other tightly once more, oblivious to their closeness as they fled. Eventually, they found a rocky overhang that seed like an ideal hiding spot, far enough from the secret camp.
Thankhun laid the nearly unconscious prisoner on the ground and sat down to rest alongside Chang Long. He was still stunned by her abilities, just as she was. The strength, speed, and agility she displayed were far beyond what soone with a base level of three should possess. It was not only her base level, the skill level were also down to one. Chang Long could not find an answer to her curiosity, so she just kept it to herself, hoping that whatever was enhancing her skills would stay with her through the dangerous journey ahead.
.....
"Clown!"
The room before Aswa was filled with clowns. Hundreds of them milled about, with groups of about ten smaller clowns huddling around larger ones. The large clowns were telling jokes, and their smaller companions laughed uproariously, as if the jokes were the funniest they had ever heard. Aswa and his party stared at the bizarre scene, dumbfounded, wondering if they had sohow co to the wrong place. Was this really the secret tomb of the pirate king Roche Roger? Why were there so many clowns? Then again, when they retrieved the Infinite Whip, there had been clowns guarding it, too.
"G... Guild leader, the room is full of clowns,"
As soon as soone said, the clowns all turned to stare at them in unison. The laughter ceased abruptly. Their eyes, devoid of any discernible emotion save curiosity, bore into Aswa's party, looking like haunted doll's eyes. No one dared move under the weight of hundreds of gazes.
Aswa finally took a step forward. Imdiately, all the clowns' eyes locked onto him. Left step. Right step. When he waved his hand, the clowns smiled, and a few even waved back cheerfully. When Aswa began to speak, they started giggling.
"Um..."
The clowns mimicked his hesitation, giggling softly.
"My na is"
The clowns' laughter grew louder as though his words were a hilarious punchline.
"Aswa," he introduced himself, unsure why he was doing so. He was not certain what to do nor whether these clowns were friends or foes.
"Aswa. Hello, Aswa."
The clowns chorused in an array of voices, before bursting into uproarious laughter for no apparent reason. Covering their mouths with their hands, they whispered among themselves. Aswa heard his na uttered repeatedly in snippets like:
"Did you hear? Aswa."
or
"Look, it's Aswa. Hehehe."
and
"Aswa. Hahaha."
His na had sohow beco the hottest topic among the clowns, who began making jokes about it and laughing amongst themselves. The grand hall echoed with the na Aswa to such an extent that the guild leader felt his face heat up in embarrassnt. So of his subordinates snickered despite themselves. Even though many of the jokes fell flat, Aswa's increasingly red face was enough to make them stifle their laughter the best they could.
"Hello,"
a voice suddenly greeted them just before Aswa would lose it. He looked up to see a man in a jester's outfit, akin to sothing from a card ga, sitting on a swinging hoop suspended from the ceiling. The jester's face struck Aswa as oddly familiar, as though he had encountered this figure sowhere before.
"Making it this far is impressive. But you'll have your work cut out for you. My little ones are eager and plenty,"
the jester said, chuckling softly with an air of good humor.
"Are you the boss of this stage?"
Lost Martial Artist inquired, drawing the attention of every clown in the room.
"Of course, I am. But before you face , you'll have to deal with all my little ones first. Only then will you earn the right to challenge . And if you win..."
The boss clown lifted a large golden key, its head shaped like a clown's face, for everyone to see. He then pointed toward a distant door, signaling that victory would earn them the key to unlock the tomb of the pirate king, Roche Roger.
"Boss, it's the boss. Boss, boss. Heeheehee."
The clowns mocked as they mimicked Lost Martial Artist, who looked ready to lose his temper at their taunts. His reaction only caused them to erupt into gales of laughter. When Aswa turned to scold Lost Martial Artist for his lack of composure, the clowns gleefully echoed his words.
"Stay calm. He said to stay calm. Calm down, calm down. Hahaheehee."
"Hohoho, aren't my little ones lively? You've probably realized that my little ones stand in your way. They won't let you reach that door easily. You'll have to face each group of them one by one until they're all defeated... Not an easy task, is it?"
Aswa nodded solemnly.
"If you manage to play with my little ones to the very end, I'll co et you myself. But if it takes too long and I drift off to sleep, just shout my na. I'm Joker Jester."
With a bow, the boss clown stood on the thin tal hoop, no thicker than two inches. The other clowns roared in admiration, clapping loudly.
"Wait. You still haven't told how we're supposed to get through this,"
Aswa called after Joker Jester, who was preparing to leave.
" Oh, right. You can either face my little ones' deadly jokes and tricks, get ridiculed in turn, but you can't laugh. In short, you have to play gas with each group—or you can challenge them to battle. I'll warn you now, my little ones aren't pushovers."
With that, Joker Jester swung away into the darkness of the ceiling. anwhile, the clowns below began chanting,
"Not pushovers. Not pushovers,"
and giggling uncontrollably.
Aswa turned to his party, his face twisted in exasperation. The clowns numbered in the hundreds. Playing gas with every group could take them forever to reach the gate. That was when the ever-impulsive and foul-mouthed Lost Martial Artist yelled out boldly:
"Full-scale battle!"
Whoosh!
The guild mbers' eyes widened. At Lost Martial Artist's proclamation, the clowns switched from playful jesters to fierce warriors. Their colorful costus transford into armor, and weapons materialized in their hands: whips, spiked maces, throwing knives, two-handed swords, oversized juggling pins resembling clubs, razor-sharp playing cards, iron balls, and steel hoops edged with saw blades.
"288 Harlequin Beasts, Level 40 are preparing to attack. 16 High-Harlequin beasts, Level 66 are preparing to attack."
The announcent made everyone gulped in horror. The clowns, now ard and ready, turned their weapons toward the group in perfect unison. Lost Martial Artist, who had initiated the chaos, fell silent, his face pale, glancing at Aswa, who already knew what was happening behind him without looking back. Aswa pressed his fingers to his temple in frustration, fully aware that with this fight their chances of surviving to face Joker Jester had plumted.
"You're the one who started this. Go handle it!"
Ma thrust his right foot forward, giving the troublemaker a swift kick that sent him stumbling into the fray out of sheer irritation. Lost Martial Artist let out a terrified scream as he was shoved directly toward a group of ard clowns, all of whom stood grinning nacingly in anticipation. Realizing he had no way out, the man resorted to pleading for a truce.
"Wait, wait. I was just kidding. Let's play a ga instead!"
The clowns erupted into laughter at his word. They promptly stowed their weapons and armor, mocking him with singsong voices,
"Let's play a ga. Play a ga. Heeheeheehee."
.....
The prisoner, whom Chang Long and Thankhun had rescued from the secret military camp, slowly opened his eyes. Midnight had co, and the desert sky was crystal clear, with not a single cloud to obscure its brilliance. The stars sparkled like a velvet tapestry adorned with sequins. It had been so long since he had this feeling. His heart raced with exhilaration. The cool night breeze swept over his weathered face, and he took a deep breath, savoring the tranquility and freedom. He could feel freedom in its truest form—sothing only those who had endured the suffocating darkness of a frigid, sunless prison could truly appreciate.
The soft grains of sand beneath his feet felt delicate, almost comforting. Despite the chill of the desert night, he felt a strange warmth and comfort. The only light in the area was not the usual orange-red of a campfire but a pale blue-white glow. Turning to its source, he saw a floating orb of fla. It had an eerie, ghostly quality, like the wandering spirit of a restless soul that had co to take his life. Yet, its presence was surprisingly soothing and benevolent. Beyond the floating fla, he noticed a man and a woman, locked in an embrace as they slept. He thought of ho, of his family—those he had left behind so long ago, wondering if they could still rember him, if they would they still welco him with open arms, overjoyed to see him return safely after all this ti.
-----
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