Chapter 41: The Finality of the Royal Tomb Palace

"That's quite impressive, and the move was actually pretty cool."

At this, Night Feather couldn't help but give a thumbs-up, smiling at "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero."

"Cup of Wine Traps the Hero," however, didn't return the smile. He replied to Night Feather, "Compared to you, who can solo dungeon bosses, what is a feat like this? And I'm curious—is that story actually true?"

"Back then, it was just luck. I didn't have the strength you possess, and the monster AI levels weren't very high at the time."

Night Feather gave a wry smile as they continued to move forward, chatting as they walked.

"You have the skill to back it up without being arrogant. Even for you, soloing that kind of dungeon boss should have been quite difficult at the time, yet you managed to do it regardless. I have to say, I'm genuinely impressed."

Watching "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" speak with a smile, Night Feather simply shrugged and replied, "Thanks for the compliment."

However, about ten minutes into their walk, Night Feather’s expression turned grave. He raised his right hand to stop "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero." The latter paused, taken aback by the sudden solemnity on his companion's face.

"What’s wrong?"

"Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" looked around, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he felt confused. Looking at Night Feather’s expression, it was clear he wasn't joking.

Night Feather tilted his head slightly, his gaze shifting to the wall beside them. A cold glint flashed in his eyes. The very painting "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" had mentioned earlier was still there on the wall.

"Take a look for yourself."

"Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" followed the direction of Night Feather's gaze. When he saw the famous painting on the wall, his throat tightened, and his pupils constricted slightly.

"Could it just be a second, identical one?"

"Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" was, at heart, quite terrified of this kind of game design, which made him despise the development team of *God's Demise* even more.

"It’s clearly not a second identical painting. I’ve been paying attention to this issue. We’ve been moving, but the surroundings seem to loop. Every time we reach a certain distance, we end up back where we started. We’ve fallen into an infinite loop."

Night Feather shook his head, having grasped the crux of the problem, and began to contemplate what was happening.

After hearing Night Feather, "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" was puzzled. "Could there be a hidden mechanism that moves the walls to create this illusion? Or could the floor be shifting us back to the starting point?"

Night Feather pondered this as he listened.

"Our path is a straight line without any turns, so it's unlikely we're hitting anything," Night Feather said. "However, I suspect this is a special 'ghost wall'—a supernatural phenomenon similar to those in Chinese metaphysics. While its existence is debatable, it has been recorded."

"Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" shook his head slightly, a flicker of fear deep in his eyes.

Night Feather continued to scan the surroundings. "This strange, metaphysical phenomenon is better described as a closed-loop mechanism or an illusion. It symbolizes that the start is the end; once you reach the end, you are subtly returned to the beginning. The situation we are facing is similar to that—a trap based on illusion."

Immediately, Night Feather narrowed his eyes at the painting. Having guessed a potential solution, he turned to "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero." "I think there’s a way we can try to break this."

Before "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" could ask what he meant, Night Feather walked slowly up to the painting. Suddenly, he raised his right index and middle fingers, forming a sword-hand, and swiftly jabbed them into the eyes of the figure in the painting. The face of the figure in the painting twitched, as if in pain. Then, the two men clearly heard a pig-like shriek. The eyes gradually returned to a static state, no longer following their movements. Immediately after, the majestic corridor ahead began to twist like a vortex.

"It seems things have returned to normal," Night Feather said, nodding slightly before continuing forward. "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" hadn't yet recovered from the scene, and by the time he did, Night Feather was already a hundred meters ahead. He hurried to catch up, a look of faint surprise on his face as he asked, "Third, how did you know how to break that illusion trap? Did you know that method all along?"

"Actually, I didn't," Night Feather said. "But when I noticed the painting constantly following us—the moment you discovered the problem—I started keeping an eye on it, and it seemed to have a limited range." He curled his lips into a playful smile. "Of course, poking its eyes out was just my own dark sense of humor. If it were you, you probably would have just ripped the painting to shreds, right?"

Hearing this, "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" was stunned for a moment, then nodded. "True, I would have chosen to tear that piece of junk to pieces. But it’s interesting to see that you’re actually a black-bellied guy."

Night Feather wasn't offended; he just raised an eyebrow. "People said that about me back in high school, too."

Shrugging, Night Feather continued onward. Having escaped the illusion, they walked for an unknown distance until they arrived before a massive golden door. Pushing it open, they entered a room that appeared ancient, filled with the scent of dust and time. In the center of the room stood a tomb containing a suit of golden armor. It shimmered with a dazzling light that seemed to possess a purifying power, capable of cleansing all evil. In the four corners of the room stood four other suits of armor, each of a different color, etched with faint golden patterns that pulsed with dim light.

Just then, Night Feather and "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" heard a complaint from nearby.

"You two are actually slower than us. That’s a bit of a surprise."

Night Feather looked over to see the other six already in the room. They looked surprised and annoyed, clearly not expecting Night Feather and "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" to be the last ones to arrive.

"We ran into an interesting illusion trap that wasted a bit of time. But we solved it, and it didn't affect our overall progress."

Night Feather smiled, then scanned the room. It seemed this was the location of the final boss of the King's Tomb Palace.

As soon as he finished speaking, the four suits of armor in the corners began to tremble. Gold light flickered within their helmets like a pair of icy, piercing eyes.

As the armor vibrated, the golden patterns on each knight changed, each following a unique design. The golden glint in their eyes also varied.

The names of the four suits of armor were: War, Slaughter, Doom, and Death. Their names were inscribed in ancient characters at the center of each.

The War Knight was a burly figure wielding a spear and shield, surrounded by a faint red glow. On his left breastplate was a dragon-shaped emblem shimmering with golden light.

The Slaughter Knight carried a giant axe. The patterns on his armor were blood-red, a deeper, more profound color than the War Knight’s glow, and a bloody aura radiated from him. His breastplate bore the mark of a savage beast—the Taotie emblem.

The Doom Knight held a long spear; his aura was icy blue, radiating a cold, killing intent. The tip of the spear contained a shimmering crystal of extreme cold. His breastplate bore the emblem of a White Tiger.

The Death Knight wielded a greatsword and was shrouded in black light. The black mist rising from him felt like an abyss, instantly enveloping the entire suit of armor, making him look like a demon of death emerging from the underworld.

As the four knights moved, each targeted two members of Night Feather's group.

Seeing this, Night Feather frowned. "It seems the paths we took correspond to the knights we face. Each has a different attribute."

The next moment, the Slaughter Knight assumed a combat stance and charged toward Night Feather, swinging his massive axe.

"Alright, the Slaughter Knight is for me and the Witch King, since they’re targeting us." Night Feather and "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" exchanged a look and charged toward the incoming knight without another word. These four knights had stats exceeding even elite or leader-class bosses, and they were at level 58. For the current group, this was a difficult challenge, but one they could handle with their skill and coordination.

Meanwhile, Huang Hong clashed with the War Knight. The collision of their spears sent sparks flying. "I think it might be easier if we just fight in a chaotic mix," he said. "Even if they have fixed targets, our targets don't have to be."

Luo Feng nodded in agreement. "Rare for our Old Huang to have such a smart idea. Why not give it a try?"

"Fine!"

Everyone agreed, and "Cup of Wine Traps the Hero" shouted, "Come on, everyone, cover me a bit!"

The lighting in this area was dim, and it felt as if the room had been designed specifically for him. The Witch King raised his twin daggers, and a terrifying black flame swept out. Shadows expanded, turning the entire room into his domain. Black mist swarmed toward him, but the others didn't offer much cover. The Death Knight suddenly leaped, his greatsword slashing down toward his target.

Huang Hong offered a mocking smile. "We don't have time to worry about you! You're on your own!"

Huang Hong gripped his spear, clashing violently with the War Knight once more. The sound of their weapons ringing out filled the air, and a giant shield materialized on Huang Hong's left hand.

The battle erupted instantly. The eight of them and the four knights engaged in a fierce, chaotic struggle.

Night Feather’s expression turned solemn as he looked at the Slaughter Knight. "These knights don't need casting time for their skills; they’re instant. This isn't going to be easy."

"This guy is fast—faster than a level 70 elite boss."

Night Feather was stunned. He placed his zither in front of him, and a powerful shockwave pushed back the lunging Slaughter Knight. The knight slid back several meters, his axe carving a groove into the floor, before steadying himself. Above Night Feather’s head, a purple halo hovered, raining down starlight.

Night Feather looked at the Taotie emblem on the Slaughter Knight’s breastplate with interest, wondering if it held a special meaning or if it was key to clearing the dungeon.