Chapter 399: Teammate?

Although Punk and Kane had known each other since their apprentice days and had even experienced a journey and a large-scale war together, they had never been companions or comrades-in-arms from start to finish. In a way, when two equally cruel and cunning individuals fought side by side, the battle was almost destined to become a process of tripping each other up and stabbing each other in the back.

Take Kane, for example. At the beginning of the fight, this guy acted impatient and charged ahead to engage the Ancestral Spirit in combat. On the surface, the battle between Kane and the Ancestral Spirit was undoubtedly intense. The bursts of Battle Aura sent dust swirling into the sky, the Ancestral Spirit’s heavy fists compressed yellow sand into rock, the earth roared and exploded in the fight, and space twisted and shattered under the immense power. The two combatants exchanged blows in a thrilling back-and-forth, with Kane even putting on a show of being out of breath and physically exhausted.

But… in reality, Kane was completely slacking off and putting on an act!

It was important to understand that an Ancestral Spirit controlled by a Shaman was entirely different from one operating on combat instinct alone. The former, enhanced by the Shaman’s spells and precise control, could rival the most exceptional Master-Level warrior, while the latter… was hardly different from a golem. Especially the Ancestral Spirit currently fighting Kane—corrupted by Abyssal energy, this behemoth had long lost any semblance of combat discipline. Although its attack power had significantly increased, its clumsy and heavy fists couldn’t even graze the knight’s clothing against Kane’s extreme agility.

Under such circumstances, a Level 17 warrior should easily dispatch such a foolish and clumsy enemy. But look at Kane’s performance! Most of his Battle Aura strikes landed on empty air, and he even pretended not to see openings in the Ancestral Spirit’s defenses, deliberately avoiding lethal strikes.

Regarding Kane’s “combat style,” Punk could only speechlessly remark—Are you burning leaves beside a tombstone to fool the undead, you bastard?

As a Level 17 Master-Level knight, was it possible that Kane couldn’t land a hit on such a clumsy enemy? Of course not. Even a Formal-Level warrior could tell that Kane was clearly slacking off.

However… that deranged and arrogant Minotaur Shaman and the increasingly frenzied Ancestral Spirit clearly lacked even the most basic judgment. Even though they were being toyed with like monkeys, the Ancestral Spirit kept desperately attacking the evasive Kane, while the Minotaur Shaman fixed his blood-red eyes intently on Punk.

At this point, Kane’s cunning was evident. By putting on a show of being at a disadvantage while toying with the foolish Ancestral Spirit, he didn’t need to fool Punk with his acting—he only needed to keep the Minotaur Shaman in the dark. This way, the overconfident Minotaur Shaman would focus entirely on fighting Punk, while Kane could simply “watch the fight from the mountain” from the sidelines. If an opportunity arose, Kane wouldn’t hesitate to thrust his spear at Punk, after all… the Master-level Robe Punk wore was certainly valuable.It took less than a second of thought for Punk to see right through Kane’s intentions. But would Punk fall for such a petty scheme?

Impossible. Just as Kane had been greedily eyeing Punk’s Mage Robe, Punk’s peripheral vision had never left Kane’s Lance. Master-Level experts generally possessed considerable wealth, and killing a powerful Master-Level opponent was undoubtedly the fastest path to riches. Under such circumstances, Punk had no qualms about delivering a devastating blow to Kane.

As the Minotaur Shaman’s Witchcraft Swarm enveloped Punk, he cast his spell without the slightest hesitation:

“Master-Level Conjuration Spell—Kinetic Hurricane.”

A pale violet energy hurricane materialized instantly around Punk. The violent kinetic winds, powerful enough to ripple space itself, effortlessly swept up the mist-like swarm of demonic insects. In the next second, under Punk’s control, all the wind currents carrying the insect-laden hurricane shifted direction. Accompanied by spatial ripples, the terrifying gale and its cargo of demonic insects surged toward Kane.

“Damn it, Punk! Are you in cahoots with that mad shaman? I’ve got no time to deal with your bugs—can’t you see I’m being chased by this terrifying ancestral spirit?”

Seeing a massive swarm of demonic insects blown toward him by the kinetic hurricane, Kane—who had been half-heartedly engaging the ancestral spirit—hurriedly channeled his Battle Aura to erect a defense. In that sudden opening, the knight nearly took a direct hit from the ancestral spirit’s heavy fist.

Though the ancestral spirit moved clumsily, its punches packed substantial force. Even Kane would struggle to withstand a direct blow. Faced with both the unexpected insect swarm and nearly being sucker-punched, Kane’s irritation was understandable.

But after successfully sabotaging Kane, Punk felt no guilt whatsoever. He calmly ignored Kane’s protests and continued layering defensive spells on himself:

“Such a pity. My spells always lack precision—it’s only natural they might go astray, don’t you think? I accidentally killed that poor red-eared donkey the same way years ago. I thought you’d be familiar with the story.”

Unlike Kane’s furious tone, Punk’s voice remained as flat and icy as ever, effortlessly implying that Kane was the donkey.

“Damn you, you bastard!”

With no time to banter further, Kane now had to focus entirely on fending off both the demonic insects and the enraged ancestral spirit.

Just as Punk predicted, the Minotaur Shaman had indeed lost control over the insect swarm. Even under the old shaman’s commands, the demons refused to abandon the “feast” delivered to their doorstep. The frenzied insects had completely forgotten about Punk as their “primary target”—their sole obsession now was tearing the nearest knight to shreds.

Punk’s strategy of redirecting the entire swarm toward Kane proved exceptionally effective.

In an ideal scenario, the Minotaur Shaman—realizing he couldn’t recall the insects—would likely exploit the chaos to press the attack against the disoriented Kane. Should that happen, Punk could simply walk away without another word.However… in reality, Punk’s thinking was still too optimistic. Perhaps due to confidence in his insect swarm and ancestral spirits, perhaps to guard against Punk’s sneak attacks, or maybe simply because he was in a foul mood—regardless, the deranged Minotaur Shaman swiftly shifted his gaze back to Punk upon realizing he couldn’t summon the demonic insects:

“Old Kulong sees through it all, Old Kulong knows everything! You treacherous, sinister, ignorant, foolish mage are trying to escape! Old Kulong won’t let you run away. Old Kulong will offer you to the master! Your companion is destined to be devoured into bones by the demonic insects, and you… are doomed to taste despair under Old Kulong’s curse!”

(End of Chapter)