Beneath the grand columns of the Opas Memorial Grand Theater, the gilded bas-relief doors remained tightly shut.
A solitary lamp illuminated a hanging bronze plaque, etched with neat lettering:
“Closed for internal maintenance. No visitors.”
However, deep within the subterranean Golden Hall, the air was fermenting with heat. The scents of wine and incense coiled around every spinning figure. Crystal chandeliers poured down an overly generous light, illuminating men and women adorned in exquisite masks and opulent attire as they glided and swayed across a floor as polished as a mirror.
Then, a lady in a dark green gown suddenly froze mid-step, her movement snapping like a broken string. She collapsed silently, like a puppet whose bones had been removed.
The dance floor did not pause for even a second.
Trombones and trumpets continued their spirited blare through brass, and the piano’s melody rose and fell amidst the footsteps. Gentlemen in Oxford shoes and ladies in high heels maintained their unchanging rhythm, calmly stepping past the limp body—until the first smear of dark red bloomed silently from beneath a sole.
They danced, and they celebrated.
They stepped over their fallen companion, treading upon the deepening color of blood.
They continued until every single sole was soaked in a fresh, warm crimson.
At the highest point of the hall, a Noble Woman looked out the window with a smile playing on her lips, paying no heed to anything happening below.
***
A net woven of blade-light fell, sealing off all room for maneuver.
Jiang Ming did not attempt to find a gap within that lethal dance.
He did something simpler and far more insane: he took a sharp half-step back, his spine crashing through the rusted iron railing at the edge of the rooftop, and threw himself toward the dark street four stories below.
The wind shrieked instantly in his ears.
Inside the room, a flicker of expected derision crossed Samuel’s peach-colored eyes.
“Stupid… Under the Void Domain, where could you possibly jump…”
With a slight shift of his will, he controlled the two Dream Puppets to leap from the rooftop without a moment’s hesitation. They followed like two pale meteors pulled by silk threads, hurtling toward the rapidly falling dark shadow below. The prey’s death struggle was also part of the play, and he enjoyed the spectacle.
However, in the next second, the trajectory of that rapidly descending figure suddenly changed.
In mid-air, Jiang Ming came to a violent halt and pivoted.
A violent gust of air exploded beneath Jiang Ming’s feet, creating a brief but powerful lift. Although he could not fly yet at the Glimmer stage, using the wind to alter his position was no problem.
The next moment, a gale surged behind Jiang Ming, and his body became like a cannonball launched from a catapult. He traced a sharp arc, slamming toward a third-floor window on the side of the hotel!
“What?!” The sneer on Samuel’s face froze instantly.
He saw it—his puppets were plummeting down, while the prey, carrying the full kinetic energy of the fall and the sharp whistling air currents around him, was flying toward the room where he stood like a human battering ram!
“Bang—Crash!!!”
The sound of the explosion was deafening.
The soles of his hard leather boots slammed firmly against the glass. The entire window, along with part of the wooden frame, buckled inward under the horrific force of the impact. Shards sprayed into the dim room like a rainstorm.
Jiang Ming followed closely behind, enveloped in the night wind and glass fragments as he landed heavily on the floor in front of Samuel, dropping to one knee.
Crushed crystals leaped off his shoulders like rain.
He slowly raised his head, his black hair slightly disheveled by the turbulence, with several fine bloody streaks from the glass crossing his cheek. Through the whirling, settling dust, his eyes accurately locked onto Samuel in the depths of the room.
“Good evening,” Jiang Ming said, shaking out his numbed ankle as he pulled a cold smile. His voice was exceptionally clear in the suddenly deathly quiet room. “Mr. Puppeteer.”
“I’ve come to listen to your story.”
Samuel was utterly astonished. He could not understand at all how Jiang Ming knew he would be here. From their brief exchange just now, Samuel knew clearly that Jiang Ming’s ability belonged to the School of Myriad Constructs, specializing in wind manipulation.
Theoretically, Jiang Ming had no means of knowing his location.
But judging by Jiang Ming’s performance, he had clearly come straight for him.
Jiang Ming wasted no words and threw a punch at the man in front of him.
The strengths of the Path of Fiction were prominent, but their weaknesses were equally obvious. Just as all mages feared an assassin’s close-quarter approach, their own bodies were their greatest vulnerability.
Suddenly, a torrential amount of mana erupted with Samuel at its center, like an invisible suit of heavy armor or a sudden, formless tsunami!
“Ugh!” Jiang Ming’s forward momentum was forcibly halted. His fist felt as if it had struck an invisible steel wall. Not only could he not advance an inch further, but he was pushed back by that arrogant burst of mana, staggering two steps before steadying himself.
His expression turned extremely grim.
It was common knowledge that within the same rank, the physical bodies of those of the Path of Fiction were weak. But that explosion of mana just now—devoid of technique and purely crushing in its sheer volume—announced a cruel reality.
The Beyonder before him was not at the same Glimmer rank as he was.
It was Holy Spear!
“I admit, I did underestimate you a bit.” Samuel smiled. If he had unleashed the power of the Holy Spear rank when the puppets first engaged, Jiang Ming would never have had the chance to stand before him.
“However,” he snapped his fingers lightly, “it’s not too late… now.”
The moment the words fell, the dim moonlight behind Jiang Ming was completely swallowed by two suddenly descending shadows.
The two Dream Puppets, which should have fallen to the street, defied the laws of physics. They rose from below like ghosts flying backward, appearing silently outside the broken window before gliding into the room as gracefully as predatory owls, landing right behind Jiang Ming.
The ornate long blades in their hands did not pause for a second. Bolstered by the power of the Holy Spear rank, they thrust toward Jiang Ming’s heart from both sides with a desolate, cold glint.
And just as the blade tips were about to bite into flesh—
Clang!
A pair of Giant Scissors plunged vertically from the shadows of the ceiling, interposing themselves between Jiang Ming’s back and those two flashes of cold light.
The scissors hovered, their blades slightly ajar.
The puppets’ blades slashed down fiercely—
Only to strike the cold metal of the scissors, producing a dull, strange clatter.
In the next second, The Girl appeared behind Jiang Ming.
Inside the theater,
“I hope you don’t disappoint me,” the woman looking out the window whispered softly to herself.