Chapter 122: Oh, All That Was Me Pretending

Chapter 122: Oh, All That Was Me Pretending

“Oh… no…”

Watching the white-haired, white-bearded expert Murphy get blasted away like a ragged sack, Paris nearby let out a desperate roar. She flitted like lightning through the air several times and caught Murphy before the white-haired expert could crash fiercely onto the ground from high altitude.

Two horrifying fist-shaped dents sank deep into the old man’s chest.

Each punch had dug four or five centimeters into Murphy’s ribs. Finger impressions were clearly visible. The explosive combat aura flooded straight into him without escape, nearly destroying the Sharp Metal Combat Aura expert’s heart and energy channels. Like a spring, blood gushed wildly from his mouth. Only with Paris gripping his arms could this once-feared super expert now stand trembling.

Ten meters away, the cavalryman who’d just been staggering under the Sharp Metal Combat Aura storm stood upright.

A strange smile touched his lips as he ripped off his T-shaped nasal guard helmet. Sharp chestnut short hair, a square face, a straight nose, and chiseled features entered the horrified eyes of Paris and Murphy. This warrior wasn’t tall—one could even say thin and slight. Yet he radiated an iron-hard military aura. Standing there light as air, he instantly seemed like ten thousand charging warhorses.

“P-Prince Andrew Arshavin?!”

Seeing the cavalryman’s face, Murphy and the seductive Paris blanched white. Shock flooded their expressions.

How could Zenit Empire’s crown prince and ‘Zenit War God’ appear personally?

Paris had clear reports that the prince should still be in the imperial barracks right now… Who then was the general commanding the capital’s Iron Blood Camp? Sharp-minded, she instantly grasped the truth—clearly, the prince there was a decoy all along.

This was the killing blow.

This was the hidden trump card!

Who could guess that the prince would stoop to disguise, secretly join the delegation to far-off Shampoo City, then strike at the perfect moment? With one surprise blow, he crippled their top fighter and turned the battle.

The person who shouldn’t have been there, was there.

Everything changed.

Sun Fei, floating nearby in Assassin Mode amid the dust, felt his jaw drop too. He recognized this thin chestnut-haired warrior—he’d been the carriage driver for Princess Royal Tanasha when the Zenit delegation first reached Shampoo City.

Back then, his Barbarian Character had just hit Level 16. His senses weren’t sharp. He’d only vaguely felt the driver was skilled. Never imagined he was hundreds of floors higher than expected!

From Paris and Murphy’s shock, Sun Fei learned the warrior’s other identity—Crown Prince Andrew Arshavin. The man likeliest to succeed Emperor Yassin, ruler of Zenit Empire, hailed as the “Zenit War God”.

This discovery stunned Sun Fei.

Today at the Eastern Peak Summit kept defying belief. Big figures appeared one after another. Unexpected events piled up… Sun Fei shook his head. He realized playing mind games with these greats was still beyond him.

“Paris, call them off.”

Arshavin smiled confidently at the pair.

No joy of victory showed on his face. This woman had helped his unfriendly brother cause him endless troubles and losses. He’d dreamed of killing her countless times before. Yet now, with her life firmly his? Arshavin felt an odd reluctance. Such a flawless woman…what a shame she turned against him.

Paris steadied herself fast. Bitterness touched her beautiful lips. She sighed and waved one pale hand.

The whole battlefield fell quiet instantly.

In truth, after Prince Arshavin appeared, many warriors had already halted the pointless fight. Those fist-deep dents on Murphy’s chest told everyone the battle was over. Arshavin’s arrival spelled victory.

Prince Arshavin was a legend in Zenit Empire.

Before twenty-five, he’d reached Six-Star Expert level in Fire Element Battle Qi—the pinnacle of “spirit concealed, aura sharp as blades”. He stood as Zenit’s top young talent in a century. Beyond peerless personal might, he mastered warfare, leading troops and shedding blood six years on the border. His elite Iron Blood Battalion was unstoppable—called matchless under ten thousand men. Ranked Zenit’s fiercest force, earning the title ‘Whip of the God of War’ across nations.

Normally, an old expert like Murphy might rival the prince. But caught off guard? Murphy was now crippled: meridians wrecked, near death. Arshavin only took light scratches earlier. He likely had seventy or eighty percent of his Six-Star power left. Alone, he could dominate the rest.

As dust settled over the halted clash, gore showed everywhere. Shattered limbs lay in red mud.

The once-majestic Royal Altar was flattened—an ugly ruin pile.

Around the debris, survivors’ faces varied.

More had red ribbons tied on arms. They’d held the upper hand earlier. Numbers weren’t enough. A Six-Star Expert like Arshavin could crush them solo. Representatives from Shenhua Kingdom, Luneng Kingdom, Chanba Kingdom…fear and despair filled their eyes.

The ambushed survivors—other princes, envoys, guards—now breathed relief. Some even wept in joy.

At Paris’ wave, the crowd parted orderly. Soft steps followed. The sword-wielding assassin, white-claw assassin, yellow-curved-sword fighter, and the Earth Expert who’d fled Sun Fei appeared behind Paris. Red ribbon-wearers gathered hopelessly on her side—too late for regrets. This was suicide they’d chosen. Picking wrong sides? It meant their lives and their kingdoms’ doom were sealed.

Opposite them huddled the few innocent survivors. Like chicks under a hen after an eagle’s strike, they shook as they gathered behind Prince Arshavin and the Princess Royal. Amid them was Prince Modric of Reike Kingdom—beaten up badly, but luckily alive.

Two groups now faced off.

A choking tension hung thick.

Sun Fei stumbled out then, gritting his teeth. He’d switched back to Barbarian Mode, but held heavy wounds. His grand coronation robe was rags. Below, soft leather armor gaped open, bleeding. Blood masked his face, only revealing dark eyes. Slathered head-to-toe in gore, he was a walking blood-man. Each step left dark tracks.

His injuries looked pitiful—tear-worthy stuff to see. Some wondered if this Little King might drop dead right there. Worse? Besides this unlucky king whose coronation ended in chaos…every single Shampoo City guard or officer lay dead around the altar ruins. Lampard, Drogba, Oleg, Ballack? Corpses stained their stone beds…

“Alexander! You live! Hooray!”

Prince Modric, having survived disaster himself, warmly helped Sun Fei over. Many had seen Sun Fei take Murphy’s punch earlier in the dust cloud. All thought him dead then. Who knew he was tougher—if more shredded—than rats in a sewer? He’d lived. Modric steered him behind Arshavin.

“Paris…such a pity. Looks like I win today.”

Arshavin studied Paris gently. Relief touched his heart. At last, this constant thorn would trouble him no more.

Clap-clap-clap-clap!

Paris applauded lightly.

To her credit, this sorceress calmed faster than most men even in defeat. She flashed her trademark bewitching smile. “Honestly? I’d never guess that the prince himself would stalk me to this wretched icy backwater…even pretend to be a lowly soldier for a sneak attack… Tsk, Prince Andrew, really…am I honored? Or terrified?”

Arshavin heard the sting but stayed smiling. Why mind? He was the victor here.

“But I admit—it was a beautiful move! Those dead soldiers served well…luring Murphy into lowering his guard so you could land your blow so easily… Prince, sending them so coldly to die…won’t it chill your living troops?”

“Paris, stop playing mind games. Submit. Join me. Then I spare your life tonight.”

The prince’s smile stayed bright, but his words rang like steel—no mercy offered.

“Heh…Prince, too self-assured? True, I can’t kill you or the princess today. But flee? Even now, that I can do.” Paris still chatted like with an old pal—sounding playful yet defiant. Not a hint of yielding.

“Escape might’ve worked earlier… Not now.”

Arshavin looked utterly sure. Grand Knight-Captain Pavlyuchenko had appeared near the summit’s only stone path down—surrounded by his last twenty-five horsemen. Sword Assassins could shield Paris a few seconds tops. But if Pavlyuchenko’s soldiers blocked her flight path? Arshavin could strike her dead the next instant.

A quick flicker crossed Paris’ face seeing this.

“Sister Tanasha, your fortune shines so bright…if not for this Little King bungling my plans? Dead tonight might’ve been you…”

Paris seemed resigned. A trace of bitterness touched her flawless face then. Avoiding Arshavin, she focused on the Princess Royal standing quietly behind the crowd—murmuring like a true sister, wistful.

Indeed? A demon among men. Lips bitten, eyes downcast, she tugged most men’s hearts. They longed to hold and soothe her.

Princess Tanasha just smiled softly. “True…luck favored me much today.”

That ‘Female Literary Sage’ clearly gave Sun Fei credit for the turnaround.

Like filthy muck, Sun Fei churned through all carefully laid scripts.

Without his blazing fury for his beauty cornering deadly Paris Hilton? Forcing Murphy out early? Not even Tanasha holding Arshavin backstage as final move might’ve ensured victory. Murphy too stood at Six-Star level—an old veteran whose skill nearly matched Arshavin’s. Open fight? The ‘Zenit War God’ might not win. Ambush? Deadlier still.

But hearing the princess call it just luck… Paris cracked a distorted smile. “Ah…but fortune alone doesn’t win fights.”

“You—!” Tanasha’s face twisted. She shouted—“Beware, all—!”

Too late. Suddenly! No one foresaw what happened next—

Prince Modric of Reike Kingdom, who stood beside Sun Fei, suddenly had a sharp look in his eyes. He struck like lightning, his palms blazing with scorching heat. He thrust them forward fiercely, one to the left and one to the right, accurately striking the backs of Crown Prince Arshavin and the purple-robed girl Purple Flame.

In the next moment, a surge of power erupted. The fiery, overbearing Battle Qi exploded with a series of cracking sounds.

Thump, thump—!

A sudden, shocking turn of events.

It was unbelievable.

Arshavin and Purple Flame had their attention focused on Paris and the others, always guarding against the dangerous woman’s last-ditch struggle. Who could have expected that a ‘comrade’ would launch a sneak attack from behind? The attacker stood right beside them, so close that even with their immense abilities, they had no time to react. They did not even have the chance to activate their defensive Battle Qi before Modric’s fiery palms struck them solidly. The tremendous force blasted entirely into their bodies, and both spat out a mouthful of reversed blood, forced to endure the full impact of the strike.

For a moment, their faces showed a mix of disbelief, anger, and shock.

After succeeding with his strike, Modric did not leap back. Instead, he gave a sinister laugh and backhandedly sent out a burst of Flame Battle Qi that transformed into a dragon, roaring as it flew towards the Princess Royal not far away.

The incident was so sudden that most people still hadn’t reacted.

For a moment, no one even thought to protect the Princess Royal.

Just as the brilliant Princess was about to be turned into a mist of blood under the sudden attack, a miraculous change occurred—an incredible blue circular water shield appeared in front of the Princess Royal, tightly enveloping her within it. When it collided with the fire dragon, the water shield rippled violently but actually canceled out Modric’s attack.

“Despicable scum, die!”

The Zenit War God Arshavin finally reacted at this moment. Seeing the Princess Royal in danger, he gritted his teeth and, despite his severe injuries, frantically channeled his remaining Battle Qi to unleash a world-shaking palm strike. Modric raised his palm to block it but was instantly blasted away, spilling blood like a rainbow. He flew backward and landed in front of Paris and the others, narrowly saving his life.

This turn of events was truly a shock.

It left everyone momentarily petrified.

Too unbelievable.

How could something like this happen?

No one had expected that Modric, the young prince of Reike Kingdom least likely to side with Paris and the assassins, would suddenly launch an unprovoked attack. Nor did they expect that this young prince’s strength far exceeded his previous Two-Star Level, nearly killing Arshavin and Purple Flame, the two strongest experts on the Princess Royal’s side. Even the Princess Royal would have died on the spot if not for the high-level water-based Magical Equipment protecting her.

The atmosphere at the Eastern Peak Summit instantly changed.

This unbelievable, dramatic turn of events drastically shifted the balance of power between the two sides.

Murphy, Arshavin, and Purple Flame, who were originally the strongest at the Eastern Peak Summit, were now severely injured and could hardly move. On the Princess Royal’s side, the only remaining intact combatants were Roman Pavlyuchenko, the swordswoman Susan, the twenty or so insignificant cavalry, and over ten envoys from other kingdoms. On Paris’s side, the sword assassin, the white-clawed assassin, the dual scimitar wielder, the enigmatic Modric, and the Horse-Cutting Blade assassin, although injured to varying degrees, had not lost their ability to fight. Paris herself was completely unharmed…

The balance of power had been flipped in an instant.

This reversal happened so quickly that it felt like a dream.

Originally, those like Dalei Wang of Shenhua Kingdom who wore red ribbons on their arms had been in despair. But now, their eyes lit up, unable to conceal their wild joy at escaping death. Their despondent expressions turned into sinister smirks, and one by one, they straightened their backs.

“Hehehe, Sister Tanasha, you’ve finally made a miscalculation!”

The seductive woman Paris’s charming smile returned to her peerless face. Her blood-stained white robe fluttered ethereally in the morning breeze atop the Eastern Peak Summit. Her triumphant expression was like that of a little girl who had just pulled off a mischievous prank. Only then did people realize that her earlier lamentations had all been an act.

The Princess Royal remained silent.

Although the Zenit War God Arshavin was furious, his body began to sway uncontrollably. The damage from Modric’s earlier strike was too severe. On the other side, the purple-robed girl Purple Flame closed her eyes tightly. Beads of sweat dripped from her fair, delicate cheeks, and purple flames surged wildly around her as she clearly focused on healing her injuries.

“Hehehe, speaking of which, what an unexpected surprise. Originally, I just wanted to kill Sister Tanasha and cut off one of Your Highness Arshavin’s arms. Who would have thought I could even kill the War God himself now? Haha, the Goddess of Fate is truly generous. I think Prince Domingos will be very pleased to hear this news.”

Paris approached with an enchanting smile and bone-chilling killing intent, her steps light and deliberate.

Behind her, the assassins finally removed their thick veils.

“What a pity. I would have loved to share a drink with both of you, but to avoid complications, I must kill you quickly.”

Paris’s tone was so gentle, but in the eyes of Arshavin and the others, it felt more like the approach of the God of Death.

“Haha, well played. But I’m curious: if you kill me and Tanasha, how will you explain it to Father? With so many people here, this secret can’t possibly be kept. Sooner or later, he will find out what happened here. How long can you and Domingos keep deceiving him?”

Arshavin sat on a rock, buying time as he tried to circulate his remaining Battle Qi, but the hope was slim. His injuries were too severe, and very little of his strength remained.

“Hehehe, Your Highness, are you joking to lighten the mood? You know better than I that once this plan started, there was no turning back. Do you still hope I’ll let you go? Killing and being killed—it’s a simple matter. As for Emperor Yassin, Prince Domingos will explain it clearly. We’ll say the lowly citizens of Shampoo City rebelled, and Sister Tanasha tragically died in battle. As for you, Your Highness, aren’t you safely sitting in the Commander’s Tent of the Iron Blood Battalion?”

Paris spoke lightly and cheerfully, but the implications in her words made Arshavin’s heart sink bit by bit.

The use of a double had originally been a clever decoy plan that nearly succeeded. But now, due to the sudden turn of events, it backfired and became a weapon for the enemy. Paris’s meaning was very clear: as long as his gloomy younger brother Domingos controlled his double, he could effortlessly take command of the Iron Blood Battalion through the double.

“Obina, Modric, He Shengzhen, you three immediately take the envoys and guards to slaughter Shampoo City, then burn this small town to the ground. Remember, leave no survivors. Create the illusion of a riot…”

With a graceful wave of her delicate hand, Paris gave the ruthless, blood-soaked order to the assassins behind her.

“As you command.”

The three assassins, along with Dalei Wang of Shenhua Kingdom and those from Chanba Kingdom, were overjoyed. This was a great opportunity to get rich. They could freely plunder the royal family and wealthy Nobles of Shampoo City. Based on what they knew, there was no significant resistance left in Shampoo City at this time.

But—

“Hey, wait a minute. How rude! If you want to plunder Shampoo City, you should first ask if the owner agrees!”

Sun Fei, covered in blood and unsteady on his feet, suddenly stepped forward.

“You…” Modric’s face showed a disdainful expression as he mocked, “With such severe injuries, do you think you can turn the tide? Save your strength so you don’t bleed to death for free, hahaha.”

“Huh? You mean injuries?” Sun Fei wiped the blood from his face, and his steps suddenly became steady. He stood straight and tall. “So sorry, but all of that was an act.”

At this moment, Sun Fei was lively and energetic, not looking injured in the slightest.

“Tell me, why did you help this Aunt Paris?” Sun Fei put his hands on his hips, looking confident and unfriendly. He then pointed at the two people behind Modric. “And you two, weren’t you already dead? How are you alive again?”