Welt, still skeptical, asked, "She's an Emanator of Destruction. Are you sure you're prepared?"
Pei Guang pondered for a moment. "As I am now? I can't handle a full-blown background-level enemy. But she's just a boss—a beatable one. My online friends always say: if it's a fusion-style game or fully integrated mechanics, it means that bosses are designed to be taken down. When we encounter her next, it'll be her defeat flag. I'm guessing the Xianzhou's Emanator—probably one of their generals—is prepared for this. When we meet up with them, we'll work together to defeat her. The only concern is if she's left herself an escape mechanism... but if she's just an energy form…"
Pei Guang glanced at his upgraded trash can. The proud receptacle, now imbued with the power of Preservation, puffed out its nonexistent chest in pride. It seemed to declare: "No matter if it's dry trash, wet trash, or hazardous waste, I'll take it all. I'm a trash can. And trash belongs in me."
This absurd thought spread among the team, with March 7th unable to resist suggesting, "If she turns into an energy form again, we can just grab her and shove her into the trash can!"
Pei Guang shook his head. "Let's not force it. As a boss, she's probably here to taunt us or at most try to kill a few of us to provoke some dramatic player reaction. But since we're not following a strict story path, just a broad outline, I say we focus on keeping everyone safe. If things get too dicey, we use our skills and run. As long as we all leave intact, that's our victory!"
Stelle glanced at the recovering Dan Shu and asked, "What about them?"
Pei Guang thought for a moment before responding, "Leave the leader. Let the ones who surrender live, but give the stubborn ones a swift end. We're players, after all—we can afford a bit of humanity. As for the mastermind... she looks like she'll drop loot. Stelle, go beat her up and make sure we get the drops."
Stelle smirked. "You got it! Dan Shu, oh Dan Shu... You gave me a mission before, and now you've fallen into my hands. Time to hand over the loot!"
March 7th stepped forward with a determined expression. "I'll help!"
Seele chimed in, scythe in hand. "Count me in!"
Stelle, eager for action, cracked her knuckles and let the others join in. At this point, Dan Shu was a shell of her former self. Having already been injured by Pei Guang's Preservation Trash Can and witnessing the Emanator Phantylia being casually slapped away by March 7th, she realized that all her plans and promises had crumbled.
The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus had lost completely.
The remaining disciples were no better off. Their faith shattered, their comrades dead or incapacitated, and the source of their Stellaron gifts gone—what was left to fight for? Surrender seemed their only option. But they didn't realize that surrender could be worse than death.
Pei Guang, in his "mercy," offered them two choices: a swift death or surrender to Xianzhou. As Dan Heng had pointed out, the Xianzhou authorities had their own ways of dealing with traitors. While not as brutal as Pei Guang's methods, they would ensure these disciples truly understood what it meant to live a fate worse than death.
The player's concept of "mercy" often had little to do with actual compassion.
While Stelle and March 7th tidied up the battlefield, Welt remained on high alert, scanning the surroundings for any remaining threats. Though not as powerful as an Emanator, his ability to teleport the group to safety at a moment's notice made him invaluable.
Bailu, meanwhile, peeked out from her trash can, only to find Silver Wolf engrossed in a game. With a giggle, she joined her, happily playing alongside her newfound companion.
Dan Heng, however, gazed silently in the direction of the Ambrosial Arbor, sensing a familiar yet unsettling power emanating from its depths. Seele moved with Phantom Illusions, casually scouting the area and ready to provide support as needed.
As for Pei Guang? After assigning tasks to Stelle and the others, he quietly slipped away. What he planned to do next was, in his own words, too shady and inhumane to show in front of his "precious little darlings." Alone, he began collecting the corpses of the mara-struck soldiers from the battlefield.
The carnage left behind by their battle was intense, with many of the bodies barely intact. Yet Pei Guang showed no hesitation. As a player, he had harvested stranger things before. Compared to eating zombie flesh in survival games or experimenting with dismembered NPC parts, this was just another day at work.
He carefully separated body parts into organized piles: limbs here, torsos there, and finally, a box full of mara-struck heads. Once he had gathered everything, he set up a small ritual space. He placed food offerings, drinks, and a random furnace he'd picked up along the way. Inside the furnace, he inserted three lollipops, positioning them like ceremonial incense sticks.
Pei Guang stood before the gruesome display, nodding with satisfaction. "Over a hundred mara-struck heads. If this offering doesn't get a response, there's no point in sacrificing more. But if I get even the smallest sign of acknowledgment, I'll find the Abundance's nest and prepare the greatest offering for our 'Generous Reignbow Arbiter.'"
He cleared his throat and began the ritual.
"Reignbow Arbiter, I, the player Pei Guang, offer you these sacrifices. Don't take this lightly—give me some rewards now!"
After finishing his plea, Pei Guang bowed deeply three times, holding the lollipops with reverence. His demeanor was so solemn that it could have been mistaken for genuine piety—if not for the absurdity of the scene.
Pei Guang's actions weren't random. His extensive gaming experience told him that offering items to deities in certain games often resulted in rewards. Sometimes it was powerful equipment; other times, it was good luck or stat bonuses. Either way, he felt it was worth the effort. Now, he waited to see if the Aeon would accept his tribute.
After completing his offering ritual, Pei Guang waited expectantly for something—anything—to happen. Yet, to his disappointment, no skills, equipment, or attribute changes appeared in his system notifications.
Frustrated, he grumbled under his breath, "Seriously? They said multiple games were mashed up together! So why isn't there any reward for the tribute? I'm offering the heads of Abominations of abundance, something the Hunt's Aeon supposedly loves! A pile of heads should've been a perfect tribute. And yet, nothing?! Guess this whole ritual thing is useless."
With a shrug of annoyance, Pei Guang casually reclaimed the food and drinks he'd laid out, leaving the lollipops jammed into the incense burner as a parting gesture. Muttering curses about the inefficacy of worship, he turned and walked away.
Since divine offerings weren't yielding results, Pei Guang decided to rely on something far more dependable: himself. As he wandered back, his mind was already racing with contingency plans. If the Hunt's Aeon wasn't going to help him, maybe later he'd figure out how to kill the Aeon entirely—one severed head at a time. He could already imagine the loot!
Originally, Pei Guang had fantasized about building a fully automated guillotine—an efficient, endless loop of capturing Abominations of Abundance, chopping off their heads, and offering them as sacrifices. But now that his dream of ritual farming had been dashed, he moved on. If the gods wouldn't cooperate, then his focus would shift toward preparing his planet-destroying starship, which was already equipped for the most extreme situations.
He activated the ship's fire control systems, calibrated for total annihilation, and prepared for warp jumps if necessary. If the situation became too dangerous or an unavoidable narrative trap tried to force his hand, he wouldn't hesitate.
Just blow everything up!
If a mission demanded sacrificing his teammates to achieve victory, Pei Guang had already made his decision: blow up Xianzhou first, before letting Phantylia, the Emanator of Destruction, claim the upper hand. It was a ruthless strategy, but one he saw as the only way to protect the people he cared about.
After all, his ship could scavenge the wreckage of Xianzhou for resources afterward. He'd simply blame the destruction on the Emanator. If no one bought that story? Well, he could always fight the other Xianzhou ships too. For Pei Guang, the notion that a player could be intimidated into submission by game factions was the ultimate joke.
To him, his companions mattered more than any NPC or faction. If that meant burning bridges and earning the enmity of entire star systems during his first playthrough, so be it. The freedom of a sandbox game wasn't worth it if he couldn't protect the NPCs he cherished. If it came down to losing them, he'd rather throw himself into a corner and rage-quit entirely.
But these dire measures were only contingency plans for the worst-case scenario. Pei Guang was optimistic that things wouldn't escalate to such extremes. In fact, he suspected the real outcome of this conflict would involve standing by and watching Jing Yuan go toe-to-toe with Phantylia. Maybe they'd throw in a bit of support—distract Phantylia long enough for Jing Yuan to deliver a decisive blow.
After all, Lord Ravager Phantylia wasn't the type of enemy a "fresh out of the tutorial" team like theirs was meant to defeat. She was probably just there to give players a future goal. A proper showdown against her—or any Emanator—was likely reserved for the mid-to-late game.
As Pei Guang muttered curses under his breath and meticulously prepared for any worst-case scenarios, far away, Jing Yuan stood in the thick of battle. He had been dueling Phantylia in her true form when an inexplicable chill ran down his spine.
This chill wasn't from his opponent. It came from somewhere deeper, an ominous forewarning. Even the Reignbow Arbiter, who had been commanding the frontlines, suddenly turned to focus on him, hovering silently nearby.
It was as if the very heavens had decided to weigh in on his fate.