Chapter 1639: 549. Damn! Mice! All mice! Ah, I’m gonna die!_3
“Then let’s begin.”
Murphy reached out his hand toward Babro. The Bloody Captain, with his peculiar mustache and manly full beard, revealed a sinister smile. His lips curled back to expose bared teeth, and his eyes glowed crimson like a ravenous beast.
Their hands clasped together, signifying the start of a small but fateful wager.
Behind him, the seductive and alluring Deputy Claire pulled out a peculiar silver long-barreled hunting rifle and handed it over to her captain with both hands. With a teasing glance, she rolled her eyes at Murphy and whispered:
“It’s been years since anyone dared to gamble with Babro—such a rare sight! You probably don’t know my Babro’s other nickna on the Misty Sea…”
“Haha, don’t frighten these two young n, my love.”
The Bloody Captain shrugged, caressing the barrel of the silver, long-cylinder revolver rifle slung behind his back. His gaze flitted to Murphy and Andre, and he said aningfully:
“Although many people do say I’m the luckiest man on the Misty Sea, I suspect tonight’s wager won’t just rely on luck. What I an is, perhaps the Transia People and their young Governor may have a real surprise waiting for us.”
Faced with this provocation, neither Murphy nor Andre responded.
Count Bai of White Mountain glanced at the ground, and the hilt of Grey Claw silently slid from its sheath. He spoke to Murphy:
“They’re here!”
—
“The Heretics’ defenses are pitiful—just a single tall wall standing there. Including the people on the Watchtower, they won’t number more than fifty.”
In the war fog on the valley’s outskirts, Old Qu, tasked with reconnaissance, crouched low with his hunting rifle as he returned to the group’s temporary halt point. He reported to Reconnaissance Officer Lord Qin:
“I don’t get it. Mummy Girl said there are over two thousand people in this valley, all Blood Fear Clan elites. Why are they pinned down by so few? Are they slacking off? Or engaging in so bizarre performance art?
The developnt team couldn’t have written such a lousy plot, right?”
“We can’t rule out that the Blood Fear Vampires are passively avoiding conflict, but if they are truly elites, it ans the adversary they’re facing is absolutely more than just this asly bunch of people,”
Old Qin said, frowning:
“It might be so sort of cloaking Psychic Spell, obstructing deeper reconnaissance of the valley’s enemies. There’s strange magic here, making things that should be certain utterly ambiguous. The scene before us definitely seems odd…
Hmm?”
Just as the veteran was about to issue an order, he suddenly seed to sense sothing unusual. He imdiately removed his leather gauntlets and pressed his hand firmly to the ground.
A few seconds later, Lord Qin said in a deep voice:
“Sothing’s wrong. There’s movent underground! A large number of them. There are hollow spaces beneath us!”
“Huh?”
The scouting expert Yan Song, who had co along, said nothing and imdiately channeled a unique spiritual energy pulse into the ground. The disturbance seeped beneath the earth, echoing back with information about the hollow spaces below.
This was an advanced Reconnaissance Magic he had learned from He Lu, capable of revealing hidden entities without using his eyes.
But in the very next instant, Yan Song’s expression turned to one of sheer terror. Ignoring the principles of stealth, he leapt up and shouted:
“Run! The ground here is going to collapse—sothing’s digging below!”
“Boom!”
A thunderous crash erupted from behind the group, akin to the shuddering of a collapsing building. Lord Qin shot to his feet and ran toward the edge of the mist.
The reconnaissance team themselves hadn’t fallen into the trap, but the main forces behind them were caught in an “underground ambush.”
When Old Qu burst out of the war fog, the sight that greeted him was two massive sinkholes, each the size of a football field, gaping where Stick Brother’s position had been. Over a hundred players had already fallen in, though luckily, since this was a vampire storyline, the airborne allies were desperately trying to pull teammates out of the collapsing depths.
Cheche and Gebao from the student faction were still attempting to stabilize the spreading fissure using Psychic Spells, but the act imdiately drew the first wave of counterattacks upon them.
“Thud!”
Dozens of rocks shot out from the chaotic cavern below, slamming into Cheche’s hovering shield. Though the barrier held, the impact disrupted his flight trajectory, hurling him screaming into the chasm below.
Cheche, covered in dust, clawed his way upright with his Magic Wand. Yet as he gazed ahead, he saw countless glowing green dots floating in the dim tunnel before him, accompanied by the hair-raising sound of skittering movents and claw scratches.
There were also the anguished cries of other players who had fallen into the tunnels and the Blood Covenant knights coming to their aid.
Sothing was biting them!
“Damn it! What the hell are these things?! Get away!”
Clutching his Magic Wand, Cheche struck the ground in a forceful motion. Crimson spiritual energy erupted like a miniature storm, spinning and blasting the oncoming shadows away. Yet in the next instant, more shadows screeched as they surged from all directions.
When Cheche finally got a clear look at the creatures swarming him, his body trembled involuntarily.
Large ratn clad in black fur stood upright, baring their fangs and snarling at him with venomous, beady eyes, as if he were a delectable piece of at.
These creatures wielded an assortnt of bizarre weapons in their claws, resembling ferocious little demons. Their cacophony filled the cavern, combined with relentless scratching noises echoing from unseen corners, driving anyone mad.
Poor Cheche felt a chill run from his scalp down to his tailbone in that instant.
One of the oldest veteran players, he now scread into the team chat system like a frightened girl:
“Damn these rats! They’re everywhere! Holy crap! They’re swarming ! I’m about to puke! HELP! Use fire! Burn them with fire! Damn it, my fear of swarms is kicking in!”
No one had ti to help Cheche amidst his screaming, and the sheer number of rats before him was imasurable.
Thousands?
Tens of thousands?
No, the entire tunnel was swarming with these accursed creatures. They surged forward like rolling tides, pouring in from every direction. Their numbers ceased to matter—what remained was the unbridled malice of the Dark Mountain Range, revealed to the players for the first ti in all its terrifying clarity.
It was as if a slap had struck their faces, grabbing them by the hair and screaming at them:
“Hey there, tender young Prince and Princesses from Transylvania! Welco to the Dark Mountain Range…”
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