First Blade: Kill the "Adoptive Father" First

Kill the "Foster Father" First

Yu Lingye opened her eyes abruptly.

A burning pain like a venomous snake's bite lingered in her chest, the aftertaste of that tragic death nailed into her bones, refusing to dissipate for a long time.

She stared at the black bed curtains overhead, motionless for a long time.

The next second, she propped herself up and sat on the bed, checking herself all over.

No injuries; had she been reborn?

In her past life, she had been forcibly dropped into a game called Fallen Realm.

Once players entered this world, the system would first determine their most suitable primary class, and then branch out into different categories from there.

Yet she was an absolute novice who knew nothing about games, not even knowing which path suited her.

The only things she had ever played much were casual games like Happy Match.

To survive in this dangerous world filled with peril, she had forced her dignity down to the lowest point, only begging others not to leave her behind when they fought monsters.

Yet here, concession could not buy goodwill; it only made the darkness of human nature reveal itself more thoroughly.

The politeness and gentleness taught to her by modern society also became utterly worthless.

Even more tragically, under the exploitation and enslavement of her "own people," she never managed to acquire true professional skills that could save her life.

It was not that she had never struggled.

Every time she wanted to climb up, someone would push her right back down to a lower place.

Before her death, the only valuable thing she had learned was how to recognize crystal ores and plants.

"Miss Isolde, you are awake."

A rigid female voice suddenly sounded beside the bed.

Yu Lingye looked up and saw a maid standing in the shadows.

The next instant, fragments of memory rushed into her mind, coming so fast and chaotically that they made her temples throb.

Isolde, the foster daughter of Count Valen.

She was a mad beauty NPC in an early dungeon of Fallen Realm who helped the count lure and kill players and passersby, toying with corpses and souls.

As for the master of this castle, Count Valen Silvien, he was once a human aristocrat.

In pursuit of divine power, he used corpses to modify himself, murdered his wife and daughter, devoured his servants, and finally turned the entire castle into a monster's nest.

After the original Isolde was adopted by him at age fourteen, not only did she not run away, but she venerated this set of dark arts as a sacred scripture.

She screened prey for Valen, lured strong people into the castle, and then extracted the remnant souls of the losers, stuffing them into puppet bodies to toy with.

The maid before her eyes was one of the original's creations.

Lia.

Isolde looked at her eyes, as withered and gray as a dead person's.

Her stomach tightened slightly.

The good news was that there were temporarily no living people around to backstab her.

The bad news was that placed on the side of the righteous camp, her current identity probably belonged to the category that should be hung from the city walls upon sight.

Even more fatally, she had heard about the aftermath of this dungeon.

Several player teams joined forces to break through the castle, besiege Valen, and dig two things out of his body.

One was a god-tier item, and the other was a top-tier skill.

Later, the teams that split the item and skill relied on these two trump cards to steamroll all the way through.

And right now, time had been advanced; Valen was still alive, and those two items were still on him.

Isolde lowered her eyes, slowly pressing down the slight tremor in her chest.

She did not know why she had been reborn, but judging from the current situation, she knew her opportunity had come.

Valen wasn't too formidable in the early stages; as long as she killed him first and obtained the god-tier item and top-tier skill, she wouldn't have to kneel and beg others anymore, nor would she have to look at anyone's expression.

Those people in her past life who pushed her out to die, those who stood high above and trampled over her—not a single one of them would get to leave with a clean slate.

Before that, however, she had to survive the hurdle right in front of her.

Although Valen was still developing in the early stages, he was not an experience monster lying in a coffin waiting for someone to open a treasure chest; she remembered that in the late period after the guild was established, he was a terrifying existence capable of sweeping away most players.

The reason players were able to win relied on numbers, items, class coordination, and terrain attrition, and even then, more than half of them died.

Wearing Isolde's shell now, her advantage was her identity, and her danger was also her identity.

The original owner was too fanatical about Valen.

As long as she showed the slightest flaw, she would be seen through.

And the consequence of being seen through would probably be turning into a fresh spare part.

Isolde sat up, lowering her gaze to look at this unfamiliar body.

Her fingers were slender, her skin pale, and there was a dark red mark of sewn stitches on the inside of her left wrist bone.

She remembered this mark; it was the proof of a Soul Stitcher's identity.

This type of witch was a group specializing in the study of corpses and evil magic. To facilitate the dismemberment of corpses at any time, they would implant "soul thread" magic into their bodies.

She stared at that mark, the expression on her face slowly sinking.

This kind of thing was very convenient for cutting and stitching corpses.

Yet wanting to use it to kill Valen was still far from enough.

"Miss."

Lia by the bed spoke once more.

"Lord Count has instructed you to go to the study after waking up, without delay."

Only then did Yu Lingye clearly see Lia's figure.

Half of her face was wrapped in yellowing bandages, the edges oozing with grayish-black stains, revealing only a single dim, gray eye.

A classic maid outfit was somewhat tattered, and withered yellow hair clung to the side of her neck. Her posture was rigid and upright, like a worn-out puppet.

Isolde asked, "Did he say what it's about?"

"Unspecified."

"Who else is in the study?"

"Only Lord Count."

Isolde got out of bed, and the instant her feet touched the ground, her knees nearly gave out.

It felt as though the original owner's residual emotions were at work.

Joy, attachment, worship, greed.

A chaotic mess, all jammed into her chest, so cloying it made one want to vomit.

"Is there a mirror?" she asked.

Lia turned, fetching a shattered mirror from beside the cabinet.

The mirror reflected an unfamiliar face.

Pale, thin, with long black hair hanging down to her waist.

Her facial features were excessively delicate, only weighed down by old gloominess between her brows and eyes.

Isolde.

The "little madwoman" in the mouths of players within the dungeon unexpectedly possessed a beauty face very suited for deception.

She pressed down the black skirt, counted her heartbeats three times, and after confirming she wouldn't give herself away upon meeting him, she stood up and pushed open the bedroom door.

"Let's go."

Lia slightly nodded, following behind her out of the room.

The lighting in the corridor was very dim, with faded portraits hanging on both sides. The eyeballs of the figures in the paintings had all been hollowed out, leaving only pitch-black cavities that tilted along with the newcomer's footsteps.

The carpet had absorbed dampness, making no sound when stepped on, and the air was mixed with the smell of medicine and old blood.

Isolde walked in front at a moderate pace; the memories in her brain were too fragmented, and she needed time to sort out some useful recollections.

Valen was usually rather "autistic" and disliked being disturbed; calling her to the study today was most likely not for casual chatter.

She remembered someone reviewing this in her past life: Valen's weakness was neither his head nor his heart, but the "silver core" embedded in the third section of his spine.

Now that the players hadn't come yet, as long as she maintained Isolde's basic persona and found an opportunity to approach that silver core, there was hope for this first wave of counter-killing.

At the end of the corridor, a heavy wooden door appeared before her eyes.

The castle's crest was carved upon the door.

A dissected crow, with spider lilies blooming within its chest cavity.

Lia stopped, raising a hand to knock on the door: "Lord Count, the Miss has arrived."

The man's deep voice came from inside the room:

"Enter."

The moment the door opened, a pungent odor rushed straight at her face.

Formaldehyde, the stench of blood, and the sour rot of dead flesh mixed together, almost jamming their way into Yu Lingye's throat.

Her stomach violently twisted, and she nearly vomited on the spot, only to forcefully swallow it back down.

The study was extremely large, with towering bookshelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, filled not only with heavy ancient tomes but also with huge glass jars.

Twisted human organs and unknown biological tissues were soaked inside the jars, emitting a cold light under the gloomy green candlelight.

And in the center of the study, a mass of things was coiled.

Isolde took an imperceptible, sharp intake of breath.