Aethelria Has No Absolute Safety

The forest was filled with a thin mist like icy dust. The temperature was low enough for frost to gather on one's eyebrows, and the woods were steeped in deep blue hues. But human hearts were colder still, and for a moment, all was abnormally silent.

"Ed, aren't you overthinking this?" someone said.

Before he could finish speaking, a feathered arrow flew from the forest and lodged in his throat.

Its white fletching still trembled. The crowd scattered in an uproar and dropped flat to the ground. Fang Heng wiped the blood from his face; a moment slower, and an arrow would have skimmed past his hair.

"Don't move." Quilod lay still in the bushes, his gray-blue eyes fixed on Fang Heng. "Which direction?" he asked over his shoulder.

Scarpe said nothing. Her pointed ears listened to the sounds around them, and after a moment, an extremely grim expression appeared on her face. "I can't find him."

No one spoke.

There was no concept of classes in the New World. Ranger was already a title obtained after investing the three branches of tracking, natural knowledge, and shooting skills to the third tier—the final rank of a lower-tier title. Scarpe had always been Dawnstar's second-strongest expert. If even she could not locate the other party, then their opponent was anything but ordinary.

Then a long cry came from the woods to the north, clear and piercing.

Everyone's faces turned incredibly ugly.

Scarpe cursed under her breath as well. What night owl could possibly be in the forest at a time like this? The sniper hidden in the dark was clearly toying with them, openly showing that he was not afraid of them discovering his location.

"To the north, at least five hundred feet away," Scarpe told the others, somewhat awkwardly.

"That far?" Everyone sucked in a breath. "Can he reach us from there?"

Scarpe gently shook her head.

That distance was at least half again beyond her own range. No wonder he was so fearless.

The gap was too great. Even the Silverwood Spear elite squad could not possibly have such an expert. The opponent's arrogance also made Scarpe think of one possibility—Silver Veil, Silverwood Spear's elite brigade.

Quilod had realized it as well. He asked in a low voice, "Who is it?"

After thinking for a moment, Scarpe replied, "Qin Zhi. Silver Veil only has one physical long-range fighter."

Fang Heng listened in confusion to this ID he had never heard before. As for Silverwood Spear's brigades, he only knew of Silver Radiance from Crown of Silverwood, reputedly the weakest link among the ten Major Guilds. And All-Seer KUN.

Atop a towering ancient tree to the north, Qin Zhi gave a flippant whistle. With a relaxed expression, he visually assessed the result of his shot, then used his hunting knife to carve a line into the bark. He had no intention of concealing his position. Though the surrounding branches and leaves were dense, his greatest reliance was distance. A battlefield nearly one hundred and fifty meters across was enough for him to kill anyone.

He wore a dark green cloak, and beneath its wing-like folds was hidden his beloved bow, Falcon. The bow was five feet long, its limbs made from Luotao Whitebone Wood, smooth and grayish-white like waxed bone. One end of the bow was fitted with a geared frame, its gemstone a Hanhui Beryl capable of drawing the steel wire bowstring. Set into the central metal box was Red Dragon's Tongue—a rare Red Crystal. It formed the core of the bow: a Grade IV Falcon component that increased its range by fifty percent.

The bow alone was worth enough to buy Dawnstar's entire adventuring party. Its market price was one and a half million Liselle, and it was impossible to buy even at that price.

Not to mention the range advantage inherent to the Night Hawk title itself.

He put down his hunting knife and picked up a crystal pendant. The crystal brightened in his palm, threads of light seeping from it and weaving into a luminous page. The faint glow reflected deep in his pupils as Qin Zhi slowly typed, character by character, with one finger: "I see them."

An ID popped up in the window.

KUN: "Did you persuade them?"

KUN: "Why aren't you talking?"

Qin Zhi: "Wait, I type slowly."

KUN: "..."

Qin Zhi: "I took one out."

KUN: "..."

KUN: "Forget it. Just stop them. Handle it yourself."

Qin Zhi: "Understood."

Qin Zhi looked up and could not help but laugh. He muttered to himself, "You think I can't find you if you hide? Interesting." He looked into the distance. The forest was pitch-black as he slowly raised his bow.

A shrill sound tore through the darkness, like the piercing cry of an eagle.

Fang Heng instinctively turned his head just in time to see a rotten log not far away explode with a bang. A warrior hiding behind it was sent flying. Wood chips and dust rained down, pelting Fang Heng's head and face.

Penetrating Shot? Fang Heng was filled with astonishment. In the past, he had often seen such brilliant techniques in high-level Chosen combat videos—blind firing, prediction, and sniping enemies behind cover. Since arrows deformed when passing through dense materials, accurately striking a target beyond them required not only a highly skilled and experienced shooter, but also excellent equipment.

This was Fang Heng's first time personally witnessing in the New World a technique he had previously only seen in videos. But what multiplied the pressure on him was that the person using it was now facing him.

In fact, Fang Heng had realized it a beat later than the others. A professional Chosen was among their opponents. Perhaps not one of the familiar names from his memories, but at least a member of a second-tier, or even first-tier, brigade. He did not know how strong the top Chosen of the First World could be. For professional Chosen of the Second World, Penetrating Shot was merely an introductory technique.

And another introductory technique was controlling two Clockwork Sprites at once.

He looked at the wounded warrior. The man sat slumped against the raised roots of an ancient tree, his head hanging low. An arrow was embedded in the upper left side of his chest, buried to the fletching. Its feathers were snowy white and softly downy. Fang Heng recognized them as expensive Pegasus Feathers, their long plumes carrying wind-element magic that increased accuracy.

That discovery lowered his estimation of the opponent. True experts generally did not use such fletching. It was a sign of insecurity.

The warrior was not dead yet. His clothes were soaked with blood and littered with wood fragments, and his chest still rose faintly. But the severe wound had rendered him unconscious and unable to move. Through the thin mist, Fang Heng saw another small figure—it was Elsa, the team's healer, a fifteen-year-old girl two years younger than him. She seemed to have noticed what was happening here as well.

Fang Heng's heart jolted. Ignoring the danger, he hurriedly waved hard in her direction, telling her to retreat.

But he was a little too late.

Elsa sprang up and rushed toward the ancient tree. At that moment, a sharp arrow pierced through the forest mist and struck her in the back of the heart. Her slender body collapsed not far from the warrior and did not move again.

A blaze of anger suddenly rose in Fang Heng's heart at the sight. He knew that man was fishing, and there was nothing wrong with that. There was no right or wrong in battlefield tactics. But the other party had deliberately waited until Elsa believed she had succeeded before striking. That was simply too vile.

Fang Heng had never imagined that there could be someone so psychologically twisted among professional Chosen. The top Chosen he knew all had their own styles, but every one of them was honorable and upright.

He instinctively wanted to rush out, but Quilod held him down. "Elsa is dead." The taciturn, towering man shook his head at him. Fang Heng could not help taking a deep breath, wishing he could drag that hidden opponent out and beat him senseless himself.

But anger could not change anything.

He was still merely a Life Profession player with no combat ability whatsoever. This was Fang Heng's first time setting foot on a battlefield, and also the first time he had felt such profound helplessness. A thought involuntarily surfaced in his mind: If only I had Magic Adaptability.

Even Fang Heng himself was startled by that thought. He had thought he did not care about it. There was a famous saying in the virtual communities related to Aethelria—weakness was the original sin in Aethelria. He did not agree with such utilitarian rhetoric, but at this moment, he could not help feeling the harsh reality behind those words.

It was not just him. The others in Dawnstar were gritting their teeth as well. They were not afraid of death, but being openly humiliated like this was not an experience they often had.

Unfortunately, sometimes that was reality.

Weakness was the original sin.

With the capabilities of this small private adventuring party, confronting Silverwood Spear's main force was already their limit. Against an elite squad, they would have no choice but to flee. Much less against opponents like Silver Veil. Even in their wildest fantasies, they had never imagined that they would one day face top-tier Chosen.

The forest fell silent again.

Their opponent did not fire another round, but that only made the sensation of a blade at their backs more unbearable. Fang Heng remained motionless, staring at Elsa's cold corpse and the warrior whose flame of life was about to go out.

Scarpe knew perfectly well that the other party was merely playing with them, but that was not necessarily a bad opportunity for Dawnstar. "We need to move," she told the others. "Brigade members do not act alone. At minimum, they operate in pairs. If we stay here, we can only wait to die. We have to break out."

Everyone present aside from Fang Heng was an experienced veteran. They understood what Scarpe meant and nodded. "We'll split up and run. Some of us will get out."

"Ed can't die," Scarpe reminded them. "As long as he lives, we can activate Jefflit's Dragon Knight, then come back and wipe out those sons of bitches."

At her reminder, everyone suddenly realized that perhaps it was not impossible. Against a Dragon Knight, anyone who was not one of the Second World's top Chosen would have virtually no hope of survival. Those Silver Veil bastards would be nothing but cannon fodder before a Dragon Knight as well.

With that thought, everyone recovered some confidence and asked, "Then what do we do?"

"We test him first." Scarpe gestured for two people not far away to probe the opponent. The two nodded, then leaped up without hesitation and sprinted in opposite directions toward the nearest cover.

Another sharp whistling sound cut through the air. The man on the right clutched his throat and fell. But the man on the left dove and rolled behind a rock, then raised a fist and waved toward them.

"Half a second." A dark glint flashed through Scarpe's eyes.

"Hm?" Qin Zhi also realized their intention. These mercenaries reacted much faster than he had expected. He clicked his tongue softly, having thought he could play with them a little longer.

He grew slightly more serious. He had not fully carried out KUN's orders. Though KUN had not held it against him, Qin Zhi knew perfectly well that if his actions caused a flaw in the plan, the club would not let him off easily.

He raised his bow again.

Scarpe clasped her thumb and little finger together, holding up three fingers to the others. "Split into three groups." Then she silently pointed in several directions. "Each group takes one cloth-armored class. I'll count, and you move according to my count. Ed goes last. You have to keep the rhythm precise."

Fang Heng nodded.

"First group, south, one."

Three or five people rose at once and ran east. A shriek came from the darkness, and the naturalist in the middle of the group collapsed without a sound. But Scarpe did not even glance his way and continued, "Two."

The second group moved in the same manner. This time, the other party did not have time to fire.

"Three."

The third group withdrew westward, but the instant they got up, one of them was struck by an arrow and fell. The opponent's attack power was extremely high, and he never chose heavily armored targets. Most of the time, one arrow was enough to kill.

That was when Scarpe shouted, "Ed, run!"

Fang Heng had been waiting for this moment. He sprang up like an agile rabbit, but instead of fleeing in the assigned direction, he took a step in reverse and rushed toward the warrior leaning against the tree.

"What are you doing!?" Only then did Scarpe realize something was wrong.

But Fang Heng neither listened nor answered. He knew Scarpe was surely furious right now, perhaps even wanting to beat him up. But he could not care about that. Rage filled his heart, and he was determined to rescue that warrior right under the opponent's nose.

Yes, he was deliberately provoking that Night Hawk Chosen from Silverwood Spear.

Qin Zhi indeed noticed Fang Heng's movement at once. At first, he did not think much of it, only assuming another idiot had appeared. Raising an eyebrow, he turned his bow and fired an arrow at Fang Heng. He had spared that "bait," but that did not mean anyone could swallow it and take it away.

But to his surprise, just before his arrow left the string, Fang Heng had already made an evasive move. He rolled forward into a patch of uneven low ground.

Qin Zhi's arrow missed for the first time.

He could not help letting out a quiet sound of surprise.

Scarpe had been about to stand and draw fire for Fang Heng, but she instinctively stopped at the sight, her mouth falling open in shock. She could naturally see what had happened. Fang Heng had judged the interval between the opponent's shots and predicted the attack in advance—then successfully dodged it.

That required not only an acute grasp of timing, but also a considerable amount of luck.

"This guy has far too much nerve..." Scarpe practically ground out the words through clenched teeth. She vowed inwardly that she would teach him a lesson later, or this brat would sooner or later become completely uncontrollable.

Qin Zhi finally understood the implied meaning behind the other party's actions.

How could someone that perceptive be an idiot? Then only one possibility remained. He could not help laughing. "You want to compete with me? Interesting..." He shook his head and directly aimed his bow at the dying warrior. He could not be bothered to argue with Fang Heng. As a true brigade member, he intended to show these small fry what real calm judgment was.

He could not even be bothered to look at the aiming assist line. He casually released the bowstring. A stationary target—he would not miss even with his eyes closed.

That was what Qin Zhi thought.

But at the same time, Fang Heng pulled down his goggles and released the Clockwork Sprite in his hand.

With a soft buzz—

The Clockwork Sprite sprang from his hand, becoming a golden streak that shot northward. With a crack, Fang Heng instinctively shut his eyes as his vision shattered into four pieces. The arrow slammed heavily into the brass shell, splitting it in two and shattering the visual-link crystal inside.

The arrow and Clockwork Sprite parts spun away in all directions, whirling through the air before striking tree trunks and falling into the bushes.

And the warrior remained unharmed.

"Fuck!"

This time, Qin Zhi was genuinely stunned. Fang Heng had already lifted his goggles, rushed out, and dragged the warrior back in one swift motion. He even had time to raise a middle finger toward the dark forest in the north before ducking back into cover.

Scarpe watched the entire process with her eyes wide in disbelief.

Then she heard someone laughing loudly beside her. Turning around, she saw Quilod coughing with laughter. She had rarely seen this man laugh so wildly. As he laughed, Quilod said, "They weren't wrong. That kid really is one of us—he fears neither heaven nor earth."

Scarpe drew in a soft breath, her eyes shining. "Ed... how did he do that?"

Even she could not have made that judgment immediately.

"Judgment." Quilod pointed at his own forehead and answered between coughs, "That kid's spatial intuition is astonishingly good."

But in the low ground, Fang Heng could not laugh at all.

He reached out to feel for the warrior's breath. The man had just taken his last breath. Perhaps it was coincidence, or perhaps that guy's damage calculation had been precise. Either way, he had ultimately failed.

Fang Heng could not help looking at Elsa's corpse nearby. The little girl's eyes were wide open, her expression one of unfinished resentment, and it made his heart feel terribly uncomfortable.

The Aethelria Fang Heng knew was the Second World filled with countless halos, glamour, and glory—the world where Chosen wrote heroic epics and legends. But at that moment, that world collapsed in his heart.

All that remained was rubble, filled with cold dust that made one retch. The exposed, cold framework of steel beneath it was even more chilling.

Fang Heng's head felt muddled when a vague sense of something being wrong suddenly flashed through his mind.

He froze for a moment before raising his head. Elsa's corpse was still there—then he turned to the other side, where the first man's corpse remained in place as well. He suddenly realized what the problem was. His face went pale as he immediately ducked back down and looked at the warrior's cold body beside him.

There was no response either—

After hesitating for a moment, Fang Heng cautiously reached out and pressed a hand against the warrior's forehead. He pulled back the man's eyelid. It was sticky, like peeling back a layer of rubber.

The whites of the man's eyes were completely bloodshot, and beads of blood had even seeped out from beneath his eyelids. A dead man's pupils were pitch-black like tunnels, with not the slightest trace of starlight within.

Fang Heng felt something explode inside his head with a buzz.

His whole body went weak, and he nearly collapsed to the ground. At that moment, he finally understood why both sides had deliberately kept far away from these ruins.

—This was a Glowstone Zone of Silence!