It was a dark and windy night fit for murder.
Half of a bright moon was obscured by thick dark clouds, and all around there was only the rustling of leaves blown by the wind and the tireless chirping of summer insects in the grass.
Two barbarians draped in tattered animal skins were holding rusted spears, patrolling perfunctorily on the outskirts of this so-called camp.
“This dump doesn’t even have a clean sip of wine.
How long does the leader plan to stay in this godforsaken place?” Barbarian A, walking in front, let out a huge yawn and scratched his messy, flea-ridden hair.
“Who knows?
Just say less.
If Boss Bulimu hears you, he’ll definitely skin you and hang you on a tree.” Barbarian B, following behind, curled his lip and prepared to shift his spear to the other shoulder.
Suddenly, Barbarian B felt a tightening at the back of his neck, and a gloved hand gripped his neck tightly like an iron vise.
Before he could even utter half a syllable, accompanied by a crisp crunch of breaking cervical vertebrae, his vision went black, and he very cleanly went to meet God.
Hearing the muffled thud from behind, Barbarian A stopped alertly, tightened his grip on his spear, and turned his head.
“Hey?
What’s wrong?
What happened?”
The dark grass was silent for two seconds.
Then, Barbarian B’s familiar, slightly hoarse voice came from the shadows:
“Oh, it’s nothing.
I didn’t see the road clearly just now and took a fall.”
Barbarian A let out a sigh of relief and mocked, “You’re too careless.
Hurry up, let’s go, let’s go.”
“Coming.”
Just as Barbarian A turned his head back, he suddenly noticed a feather emitting a golden luster fluttering down before his eyes.
That feather appeared incomparably brilliant in the dark night.
He instinctively reached out to catch it, but the moment his fingertips touched it, his eyes abruptly lost focus, and his whole body stood frozen in place like a puppet.
“Using something like Fenghuang Down for assassinations is simply dimensionality reduction.”
Otto walked slowly out of the grass behind and clapped his hands.
The earlier reply was naturally made by him altering his vocal cords using the false face gloves.
This ability combined with the simulated Fenghuang Down was simply unbeatable.
“Come on, tell me, what is the personnel composition of your village?” Otto looked at the fully hypnotized Barbarian A, his tone as gentle as someone asking for directions.
Barbarian A’s eyes were hollow, resembling an old repeater as he woodenly opened his mouth.
“There is a squad leader…
plus me and the guy from just now, there are thirty patrol personnel in total on the perimeter, all wandering around the edge of the village…”
Otto mentally summarized: one patrol squad leader, plus a dozen or so patrol personnel scattered everywhere, the defense line could be said to be full of loopholes.
He glanced at the wooden captive, a mischievous smile curling at the corner of his lips.
“Mn, go call all your teammates over, and say you found a box of unopened ale over here.
Remember to tell them this is good stuff kept in private, don’t make a fuss, and come quietly.”
Barbarian A nodded blankly, turned around, and walked into the shadows of the village as if nothing had happened.
Not long after, a stealthy sound of footsteps came over.
Barbarian C rubbed his hands with full greed on his face and followed.
“Where’s the wine?
Where’s the wine?”
Greeting him was a golden feather.
Otto followed suit, having A and C split up to call people.
In the next quarter of an hour, this patch of grass practically became a magical pyramid scheme den.
C called D, D dragged in E and F…
These barbarians were just like the Calabash Brothers saving their grandfather, lining up and silently crawling into the trap of Fenghuang Down set by Otto.
Until finally, that fierce-looking squad leader also walked over cursing.
“What are you idiots gathering here for in the middle of the night!
Are there no other patrol personnel?
If the boss finds out…
Uh?”
The golden feather fell without suspense, the squad leader rolled his eyes, and he also became a puppet under Otto’s command.
Otto looked at the twenty-nine barbarians standing neatly in three rows with hollow eyes before him, nodding in satisfaction.
“Very well, let’s confirm, are there no other people wandering outside?”
The squad leader shook his head dully.
“Gone, they’re all here.”
“Perfect.”
Otto cleared his throat, took two steps back, and spoke like a referee announcing the rules of a game:
“So everyone, listen well to the following instructions.
From now on, except for yourselves, everyone standing around you is your irreconcilable mortal enemy.
You must use all means to kill each other until only the last person remains.”
Saying this, Otto raised one finger and added a very crucial condition: “Oh right, disturbing the peace in the middle of the night is not good, so remember not to speak.
No one is allowed to make screams or roars, understand?”
The twenty-nine barbarians nodded woodenly.
“Very well, the match begins.”
At Otto’s command, the previously sluggish barbarians moved instantly.
This was a bizarre melee comparable to Silent Hill or a silent pantomime.
Twenty-nine burly men wrestled frantically in the dark; some stabbed with spears, some smashed with stones, and some even directly bit the enemy’s ears.
Blood splattered, and bones broke.
But bizarrely, aside from the dull sounds of flesh colliding and the squelch of weapons entering flesh, not a single person let out a scream or roar.
Even when their arms were severed, those barbarians gritted their teeth tightly and continued throwing punches without uttering a sound.
Otto sat on a large rock a few meters away, watching this good show with great relish.
After all, what could be more interesting than watching a group of bad guys kill each other?
This muted cold-weapon Chicken Dinner match lasted for about ten or so minutes.
Accompanied by the last barbarian fiercely stabbing a short blade into the squad leader’s chest, this absurd battle finally came to an end.
The sole survivor was covered in blood, his arm twisted at a strange angle, gasping heavily.
But because of Otto’s command, he still kept his mouth tightly shut, his face turning purple from holding back.
Otto clapped his hands, stood up from the large rock, and walked up to this survivor.
“Congratulations on becoming tonight’s ultimate survivor,” Otto said with a smile.
“As a prize for winning, I shall bestow upon you an incomparably precious souvenir.”
Finished speaking, Otto flicked his wrist, and a tarot card with edges as sharp as a knife appeared between his fingers.
Swish!
The tarot card turned into an afterimage, slicing into the heart of this final survivor.
The man let out a muffled groan, rolled his eyes, and collapsed with a thud amidst the corpses all over the ground.
Otto walked forward slowly, bent down to pinch a corner of that card, and pulled the tarot card out from the opponent’s chest.
He wiped the blood clean on the animal skin clothing nearby and casually put it back into the system space.
Having resolved the outer patrol team, Otto cast his gaze toward the barbarian party right in the center of the village.
At this moment, under the reflection of the bonfire, a group of barbarians draped in tattered animal skins were surrounding the fire, eating meat in big mouthfuls and drinking wine in big gulps.
The atmosphere could be called scorching hot.
Bulimu, sitting in the main seat, had a physique practically like an upright-walking black bear.
While tearing apart the half-cooked beast meat in his hand, he listened to the wild flattery of his underlings.
“Boss!
It has to be your brilliance!
Stationed in this place, those lord knights can’t even catch a shadow of us!” A skinny-monkey-like barbarian raised a wooden cup and shouted obsequiously.
“That’s right!
Who is our boss?
Even if that so-called King Arthur from Britain came personally, she’d still suffer under our boss’s axe!” Another underling chimed in, bragging without drafting a speech.
Bulimu was flattered to a glowing flush, laughing heartily as his greasy fat bunched up on his face.
“All of you eat to your heart’s content!
When tomorrow breaks, we’ll head to the front and pull off a big job!”
However, this gang of barbarians who were dreaming of getting rich had no idea that Death had not only knocked on the door, but had even taken off its shoes and prepared to move in permanently.
Just as Bulimu raised the wineskin in his hand to have a hearty drink, a dazzling flash of golden light suddenly streaked across the sky above.
“What the heck is that?” The skinny lackey froze for a moment and rubbed his eyes.
It might not seem tempting right now but who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”