Seeing the NPC hesitate and ponder, [Howling Pothos] seemed to remember something. Feeling that her wording had been neither precise enough nor sufficiently in keeping with the setting, she hurriedly added:
"If our tactics succeed, we also hope you can briefly restrain the [Rat King] with that binding spell you used before when it falls into the pit. This is all for the restoration of order in this world. We hope you'll agree."
That binding spell from before?
Ed suddenly understood. So they had found out about him transforming both hands into Deadwood Vines and killing the "Plum Blossom" Deer a couple of days ago.
He had thought the two victims had been completely unconscious at the time, but apparently that had not been the case. They must have already been groggy, yet still caught a hazy glimpse of him in action, then exchanged information online in the real world afterward.
So that was it.
This worked out nicely. He had originally planned to find an excuse or quietly join the battle and look for a chance to kill-steal. Now, before he had even worked out his spiel, the other side had sent him a party invitation.
The corners of Ed's mouth lifted slightly as he answered:
"No need to be so polite. Helping you is part of my duty."
Inwardly, however, he imitated the tone of a certain version of the "Martial Saint" from his previous life:
I won't stand on ceremony. (Ed Adrian, Homelander form)
The night deepened, and visibility around them gradually decreased.
At this point, Ed had yet to unlock Little Green's night vision for the players. As a game designer, Ed had crossed disciplines to learn the knife skills of a certain old man in a leather jacket from another world: optimization doled out like toothpaste squeezed from a tube.
But the lack of night vision did not stop the players from seeing their enemies. Countless pairs of blood-red rat eyes glittered like scattered sparks in the darkness, drawing steadily closer to them.
"Begin the operation!"
[Howling Pothos] hastily smeared beast blood over herself, then gave the order and charged with [Great Wei Boxing Champion] toward the approaching rat tank. The remaining four split into pairs according to plan, with the diggers digging and the ambushers preparing their ambush.
The heavy smell of blood soon reached the rats' noses. Over a hundred nearby rats immediately began squealing madly. In their field of vision, two large chunks of meat were passing before them at a moderate pace. All they needed was a single charge to turn that meat into food in their bellies.
Compared with those two large chunks of meat, the faint fragrance drifting from the tree hollow nearby was practically negligible.
What were they waiting for?
"Squeak, squeak, squeak!"
The stimulated rats frantically clawed at and trampled their companions. In the [Rat King]'s collective signaling system, this movement meant they wanted to descend.
As these rats descended, the entire fleshy ball of the [Rat King] began turning and accelerating toward the pair. This movement also alerted more rats to the presence of those two large chunks of meat.
The swarm's opinions rapidly converged. Once all the rats were of one mind, the entire fleshy ball entered a charge, pursuing its two prey across the relatively flat open ground.
"They took the bait! They took the bait!"
[Great Wei Boxing Champion] shouted excitedly as he ran, venting his nervousness and excitement.
He could only handle this so comfortably because he was in a game world, and because both his agility and constitution were fairly good. In the real world, he would probably have been gasping for breath after running like this for half a minute.
"Watch your distance! Don't lose aggro!"
[Howling Pothos]'s reminder came from nearby, and only then did [Great Wei Boxing Champion] realize he seemed to be running a little too fast.
Realizing he had gotten carried away, he hurriedly slowed down, carefully gauging the distance as he began toying with the [Rat King] behind him.
Meanwhile, behind the [Rat King] as it hurtled forward at full speed, [Good Times Don't Last] and [Shit Appraisal Master] had already crept up.
[Shit Appraisal Master]: "What do we do, bro? I'm a little nervous..."
[Good Times Don't Last]: "It's fine. I was the first player to die in this game. Nothing embarrassing about it."
"Then when we attack, should we..."
"Right. Sneak up quietly. No shouting."
"OK."
Hidden on the other side of a gentle slope in the darkness, the two crouched low and gradually approached the [Rat King].
The instant the enormous fleshy ball entered attack range, [Good Times Don't Last] sprang into action. With his strength stat of a full 8 points, he hurled a short spear with tremendous force, then quickly took another short spear in hand and charged.
The iron spearhead, trailing its wooden shaft, sliced through the night sky and plunged hard into the fleshy ball.
Unexpectedly, however, this did not do much damage to the [Rat King].
This monster was not simply a fleshy ball. If the original rat was considered the center of the sphere, all the other rats existed in something like a radial arrangement. This gave them plenty of room to dodge, so the short spear, despite its tremendous force, killed only a dozen or so unlucky rats.
Although that number seemed considerable, it was rather insignificant against a total of over a thousand.
The next moment, the densely packed rats shrieked and began gnawing at the short spear, which they had already surrounded and which had sunk into the ground.
In just a few breaths, the wooden shaft, along with the portion of the iron spearhead above ground, disappeared beneath the rats' sharp teeth. Wherever the swarm passed, nothing remained, as though a plague of locusts had swept through.
Every trace of the weapon had been erased in an extremely short time. Had those dozen or so dead rats not still been dragging beneath the fleshy ball, the players might have questioned whether the short spear had ever existed.
[Shit Appraisal Master], behind him, also saw this. He tightened his grip again on the short spear he had been about to throw.
Throwing it like that was far too inefficient. Not only would it fail to kill many rats, but it would also cost him his weapon. It was a complete and utter loss.
At this thought, his strength stat of a full 7 points once again gave [Shit Appraisal Master] confidence. Standing on the gentle slope, he launched a charge toward the fleshy ball below.
Watching this from afar, Ed could not help marveling inwardly. If he ever had the chance to get this guy a mount like a horse, perhaps he could even pull off a cavalry charge.
He turned his gaze back to his side, where [Zhongde] and [Do Some Farm Work] were digging furiously.
Their hands deftly wielded iron shovels, while a Deadwood Vine still bearing fresh green growth sprouted from each of their shoulders, constantly using the thorns on its branches to help loosen the soil.
The vines transplanted onto them had all come from the seedling in the tree hollow.
At this moment, that artificially raised Deadwood Vine was carefully secreting a gum-like substance to protect the fresh wounds on its body.
Unable to think and acting entirely on instinct, it could not understand that the people outside were actually fighting to protect it. But that did not matter. Whether this Deadwood Vine lived or died had long since ceased to be its own decision.