Chapter Fifty-Two: Battle

(1/3)

In such an uncanny scene—three living people, a corpse yet to show itself inside a golden coffin, and a circle of kneeling clay figurines with coarsely painted, exaggerated faces—everything appeared especially terrifying under the pallid light.

Ye Bai, Yao Ling, and Cao Xiaoseng stood at the entrance, gazing at the golden coffin before them, focusing inwardly on recovering their elemental power.

“It seems the golden coffin has changed since we first entered,” Yao Ling’s delicate voice rang clearly through the tomb chamber.

Following her gaze, Ye Bai noticed a large white pearl adorned with golden filigree at the top of the pharaoh’s burial chamber—something that hadn’t been there when they arrived. When they first stepped inside, Ye Bai had paid special attention to the ceiling, noting only a grand mural and no sign of any pearls.

It was also unclear where the ghostly illumination came from, as there were no luminous objects set into the tomb walls. The wisdom of the ancient Egyptians still amazed Ye Bai and the others—even today, it was astonishing that a room could be so perfectly lit without any apparent source.

The three stared up at the white pearl. Suddenly, the golden filigree radiated yellow light, and the pearl itself began to cast a soft glow around the tomb. Beneath, the golden coffin seemed to react to the stimulus of the white light, perhaps activating some internal mechanism.

A yellow radiance emanated from the coffin. Exchanging glances, Ye Bai and his companions knew the final challenge was upon them.

The white pearl at the chamber’s apex, as if drawn by the coffin, sent down white beams like wide silken ribbons, cascading onto the golden sarcophagus.

“Look, the gold filigree on the pearl is gone!” Yao Ling, ever observant, pointed it out.

“Maybe it’s there,” Cao Xiaoseng said, now near the coffin, gesturing to a barely visible golden thread woven through the center of the white ribbons, merging into the coffin.

The golden glow from within the sarcophagus was soon enveloped by the white silk. Layers upon layers of white ribbons wrapped the coffin, leaving only a faint golden glow within. From afar, it looked as if the white silk was nurturing the golden coffin, the ribbon as amniotic fluid, the coffin an unborn child.

The white ribbons pierced the coffin, dividing it into countless segments and finally exposing the withered, emaciated body of the pharaoh inside.

Despite being split into hundreds of segments, the golden coffin pieces did not fall to the ground as gravity would dictate, but instead hovered in midair, separated by three-finger-wide gaps through which one could glimpse the interior.

The three were so transfixed by these changes that they failed to notice the white pearl atop the tomb shrinking rapidly until it was nearly invisible.

Before their eyes, the golden coffin melted into a pool of liquid gold, cocooned within the white silk, and the pharaoh’s body floated serenely in the air.

When the last trace of the white pearl dissolved into the white cocoon around the golden liquid, golden threads began to wind around the pharaoh’s body, as though recreating the filigree that had once adorned the pearl.

Within the white silk, the golden liquid started to boil, dissolve, and recombine—an unthinkable feat of technology for ancient Egypt. The golden liquid reconstituted itself as a suit of golden armor, fitting itself onto the pharaoh.

Born a king, a king in death. Even after death, the pharaoh was not like the commoners whose flesh was traded for immortal souls by Anubis, god of the dead.

The pharaoh’s body was still of flesh and blood. With the nourishment of the golden threads and white pearl, it was restored—full, robust, and ruddy, indistinguishable from the living.

The golden armor he now wore was the very armor that had accompanied him in battle during life. After his death, his people had forged it into his coffin, hoping it would eternally protect him.

A guttural roar echoed.

The resurrected pharaoh conjured a golden war blade from thin air and, with a sweeping slash, sent a wave of blade energy hurtling toward the three.

Ye Bai, quick as lightning, teleported to stand protectively before Yao Ling, summoning an earth-elemental long blade.

With a resounding clash, the hastily conjured earth blade was shattered by the pharaoh’s strike, its elemental force dissipating from the fissure. Left with no alternative, Ye Bai had to burn his inner reserves of earth energy.

Empowered by this sacrifice, his blade ignited, yellow earth energy wrapping around the concentrated blade force, steadily eroding it until it dissipated completely. Only then did Ye Bai lower his weapon, the crack along its edge slowly mending.

Contrary to the usual trope where the villain, upon resurrection, delivers a lengthy monologue about their own strength and the heroes’ impending doom, there was no such indulgence here. In true warfare, no one wastes a single word; both sides strive for a killing blow, knowing every extra minute the enemy survives is another minute of danger for oneself.

Disturbed from his slumber, the pharaoh was enraged, and in his first act of movement, delivered a brutal warning to Ye Bai and his companions.

Clad in golden armor stained by the blood of countless foes, the pharaoh now wielded his war blade. His eyes—now two golden orbs in empty sockets—glittered ominously.

While Ye Bai fended off the pharaoh’s initial assault, Yao Ling and Cao Xiaoseng had already flanked him from either side, encircling their foe.

The pharaoh’s golden gaze fell upon Yao Ling—clearly perceiving her as the weakest—and he charged at her, blade raised.

In Yao Ling’s hands, wood elemental energy bloomed. Within the pyramid, where no green had grown for centuries, lush verdure suddenly appeared.

Summoning her power, thick vines, as stout as a grown man’s arm, shot forth before the pharaoh, forming a dense barrier to shield her.

(2/3)

Seeing the pharaoh charging at Yao Ling, Cao Xiaoseng’s fingers became claws, earth energy igniting at his fingertips. Realizing how hard Ye Bai had struggled just to block a single blow, he went all out.

If even a lion uses its full strength to catch a rabbit, how could they afford to show any slack against this pharaoh? His claws aflame, he lunged at the pharaoh’s back.

The pharaoh hacked through the vines with a single blow, and as the barrier split, a small elemental dagger darted through the gap, stabbing at the golden armor.

Cao Xiaoseng’s claws, burning with earth energy, tore at the pharaoh’s back like an eagle rending flesh. But as soon as he made contact with the armor, he sensed something was wrong.

“No, Yao Ling, get away!” he cried. Though usually reticent, the bond between the three had deepened with time.

Sensing danger, Cao Xiaoseng tried to warn Yao Ling, but it was already too late—she had little battle experience and couldn’t dodge in time.

He felt as if his claws, upon touching the armor, had sunk into mud, sapping all his strength. He watched helplessly as the pharaoh’s blade sliced through Yao Ling, fury contorting his face.

“No!” both Cao Xiaoseng and Ye Bai shouted.

Ye Bai, still calming the turmoil of earth energy within him after deflecting the pharaoh’s blow, was too late—Yao Ling had already been eliminated.

Having failed to land a decisive blow, Cao Xiaoseng pushed off the pharaoh’s back, leaping away to put distance between them.

Though Yao Ling was out, the fight was not yet over. This was their closest brush with victory—if all three fell again, it would crush their spirits.

Stung by Yao Ling’s defeat, Cao Xiaoseng’s elemental flames at his fingertips flared, growing several centimeters, now tipped with white.

Ye Bai had no time to restore his energy. He conjured his elemental blade anew and charged; Cao Xiaoseng attacked again as well.

Blades collided with a metallic clang. This was now a contest of raw strength rather than elemental force. Ye Bai, having just reached entry-level, could muster just over a thousand kilos of force.

The pharaoh, a veteran of wars in life and now further empowered by the pearl’s magic, was far beyond the strength of any ten men.

Ye Bai was forced back step by step, the pharaoh’s golden gaze fixed on him. At that moment, Cao Xiaoseng struck from behind.

Having learned from before, Cao Xiaoseng avoided the golden armor, instead driving his claws into the pharaoh’s neck.

Though the flesh appeared full and alive, it tore with a leathery sound under his grasp.

The pharaoh roared in animal pain, a chunk of flesh ripped from his neck.

Switching to a two-handed grip, the pharaoh hurled Ye Bai aside and spun violently to throw Cao Xiaoseng off his back.

Alone in one corner, the pharaoh’s golden eyes blazed. The torn flesh in his neck regenerated, the light in his eyes flickering and then fading, though the orbs seemed to shrink slightly.

This time, the pharaoh targeted Cao Xiaoseng, his blade whistling down to cleave him in two.

Cao Xiaoseng, just landing and still off balance, could only cross his arms in defense, claws raised.

The pharaoh abruptly switched his attack, smashing the hilt against Cao Xiaoseng’s upraised arms.

There was a sharp crack—Cao Xiaoseng’s arm broken by the blow. With Yao Ling out, there was no one left to heal such a grievous wound.

Ye Bai seized the opportunity, swinging his blade, earth energy blazing, at the pharaoh’s neck. But the pharaoh, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, dodged slightly.

The blade struck the armor at his shoulder, leaving a deep dent.

Again, the golden eyes glowed, and the dent slowly reformed.

Assailed from both sides, the pharaoh tried to draw his blade to block, only for Cao Xiaoseng to seize it with his uninjured hand.

“Hurry, Ye Bai!” Despite his broken arm, Cao Xiaoseng held on, giving Ye Bai an opening.

Ye Bai’s blade flared, determined not to let his friend’s sacrifice be in vain—he slashed hard at the pharaoh’s neck.

Once more the sound of tearing hide. The blade cut halfway through the neck before catching on the vertebrae. Ye Bai’s face fell with disbelief—he had used every ounce of strength.

Driven by fury, the pharaoh seemed to unlock hidden reserves, lifting the blade one-handed and wrenching it free. Cao Xiaoseng refused to let go, and his wrist was torn from his arm.

A scream of agony burst from Cao Xiaoseng. No iron-willed man could withstand the pain of a broken arm and a torn-off wrist—blood gushed from the wound.

Ye Bai could only try to distract the pharaoh, preventing him from eliminating Cao Xiaoseng outright.

(3/3)

Cao Xiaoseng tore a strip from his clothing with his teeth and bound his wound, slowing the bleeding. But this was his third injury—he had lost so much blood his face was ashen, his legs trembling as he sat on the ground.

The pharaoh’s blade, wreathed in light, utterly obliterated Cao Xiaoseng’s severed hand, leaving not a trace of flesh.

If three together could not overcome the pharaoh, how could Ye Bai alone hope to prevail?

He exhausted every technique he knew, yet the pharaoh forced him into a corner, barely able to parry.

When his earth-elemental blade was destroyed, he summoned a water-elemental one; when that shattered, he tried wood, then fire, cycling through every element—none could halt the pharaoh’s advance.

Calling the situation perilous would be an understatement—there was no word for such danger.

“Ye Bai, now!” Cao Xiaoseng’s voice rang out suddenly.

The pharaoh paused. Cao Xiaoseng, using his last good hand, seized the pharaoh’s leg and bit into the flesh, blood spraying anew from his wound.

With a cry, Ye Bai conjured a new blade, this time with both water and wood energies infused—its edge shimmering with water-element power.

He drove the blade into the pharaoh’s neck—this time, it severed the vertebrae.

The pharaoh grabbed the blade in his neck, wrenched it free, and hurled it away. Without Ye Bai’s power to sustain it, the elemental blade vanished. In the same motion, the pharaoh’s other hand sliced across Cao Xiaoseng’s throat, eliminating him.

Ye Bai, summoning all his strength, hurled the pharaoh aside.

“Water nourishes wood, water nourishes wood, water nourishes wood…” Ye Bai closed his eyes, chanting the cycle of the five elements.

A new blade took shape in his hand—water as the core, wood as the edge. For the first time, he wielded a dual-element blade.

The five elements—wood generates fire, fire generates earth, earth generates metal, metal generates water, water generates wood—cycle in harmony. Each pairing, through nurturing, amplifies both attack and defense severalfold.

The pharaoh’s neck had now been wounded three times, the last nearly severing his head. The golden orbs in his eye sockets flickered, working to repair the damage.

But the golden eyes now shrank to the size of a thumb, their light finally extinguished.

Ye Bai’s eyes blazed with killing intent. In less than ten minutes, he had lost both companions; his own power was nearly spent. Only one chance remained—victory or death.

The pharaoh attacked once more—no distractions, no fear of ambush.

All or nothing—both sides fighting for their lives. Ye Bai gambled everything, his energy almost gone.

The pharaoh slashed for Ye Bai’s free hand; Ye Bai did not evade, intending to catch the blade as Cao Xiaoseng had.

At the same time, he brought his own blade down on the pharaoh’s neck for a third time, confident it would not fail again.

He caught the pharaoh’s blade with his hand—blade and light shattered his hand, slicing through his arm and toward his chest.

But Ye Bai’s own blade had already bitten into the pharaoh’s neck. Abandoning all defense, he compressed his remaining elemental power and poured it into the dual-element blade.

Suddenly, the water element merged into the wood, the blade growing longer and sharper, vibrating rapidly within the pharaoh’s neck.

“Break!” Ye Bai roared, blood and spittle spraying from his mouth—he had wagered everything.

With a crash, the pharaoh’s head was finally severed. The blade poised to cleave Ye Bai’s chest halted, blood streaming from his chest and arm.

Ye Bai slumped to the ground, blood frothing from his lips, his vision swimming with golden motes.

“Congratulations, freshman, you have cleared the second level of the Ruin Relic.”