Chapter 423: Facing

The Master-Level powerhouse from the Nightmare Cult was a rather beautiful woman. Her light makeup and slightly sinister eyeshadow gave her an indescribable charm. Beneath her black robe, she wore tight-fitting clothing that unabashedly showcased her slender and seductive figure. Her extremely revealing attire made her look more like a woman of the night than a powerful Master-Level expert.

However… when this woman approached Hazelwood Town with elegant cat-like steps, both the perpetually expressionless Punk and the usually lustful Kane remained highly vigilant, carefully assessing their enemy’s strength.

“Master-Level, level sixteen. I can sense the fluctuations of Battle Aura. She appears to be a combat profession user,” Punk remarked casually as he scanned the enemy with his soul perception, quickly gathering sufficient information. With the help of his System, he could always learn an enemy’s detailed level immediately—a feat most divination-specialized mages couldn’t accomplish.

Kane had less information than Punk, but as a fellow combat profession user, he clearly possessed unique judgment experience: “No doubt she’s a combat profession user. She looks like a ranger—I’ve seen plenty of that walking posture and muscle adjustment. Most rangers trained through standard methods carry themselves like that.”

Shifting his gaze from the woman’s prominent chest, Kane began sharing intelligence with Punk. Regardless of whatever schemes they might harbor, at least for now, when facing the Nightmare Cult’s expert, Kane and Punk could maintain superficial cooperation. After all, their opponent was undeniably a Master-Level powerhouse. Though she was two levels lower than Punk and one level lower than Kane, anyone at the Master-Level should never be underestimated.

As the female ranger approached gracefully, Punk and Kane remained fully alert. However, the expression of this Nightmare Cult expert seemed… somewhat peculiar.

“Hey!” she shouted, stopping just half a step before entering the magical traps Punk had laid around the town’s periphery. From a considerable distance, she directly pointed at the unconcealed Punk and Kane and loudly demanded, “Who are you people? Are you the ones who destroyed this town and our great cult’s gnoll army? Are you certain you want to make enemies of the mighty Nightmare Cult?”

Though her questioning sounded like typical pre-battle threats, Punk detected no anger in her voice. Instead, he found her tone strangely peculiar, almost as if… she was anticipating something.

Yet regardless of what schemes or cunning plots the enemy might harbor, Punk had no intention of entertaining them. After three days of preparation, the ruins of Hazelwood Town had become his domain. In this Battlefield saturated with magical traps, Punk felt confident he couldn’t lose against any Master-Level opponent. After all, these traps were originally designed to deal with a monster like Ovakain—handling a level sixteen ranger should be effortless.Facing the female ranger’s halted steps and peculiar questioning, Punk didn’t hesitate to provoke her. For a mage, there was no enemy easier to deal with than one driven mad with rage.

With this consideration in mind, the moment the female ranger finished her questioning, Punk immediately responded in a cold, mocking tone:

“Minotaur army?” Are you referring to those gathered ants? I must say, if the Nightmare Cult’s forces are all of such poor quality, it’s truly regrettable. Crushing ants underfoot isn’t the least bit interesting. However… you actually take pride in associating with a bunch of minotaurs? It seems the Nightmare Cult’s caliber is rather limited.”

Punk’s icy mockery proved remarkably effective. Unlike meaningless insults, he always pinpointed the truth his enemies least wanted to face, presenting it in an emotionless, matter-of-fact tone that struck at their very hearts.

With salt rubbed into their wounds, most enemies would inevitably flare up with rage. The Nightmare Cult members were no exception—the low-ranking cultists in black robes were already gnashing their teeth, clearly deeply resentful about the “association with minotaurs” remark.

After Punk finished speaking, Kane immediately grasped his companion’s intent. Equally disappointed that the enemies had stopped just short of the magic trap, he eagerly followed up with his own distinctive style of verbal strike:

“Kekekeke, what’s a bunch of minotaurs worth? I slaughtered their Boss myself. Remember that guy? A hopelessly weak, utterly useless, stinking Minotaur Shaman named… Kulong? Yeah, that sounds right. Whatever—I can’t be bothered remembering such stupid enemies. Is the Nightmare Cult some kind of garbage production base? Nothing but worthless trash! Though… little lady, you’re not bad looking. If you get defeated, we’ll have some real fun in bed.”

Kane’s voice dripped with disdain, mockery, and contempt. Compared to Punk’s cold “stating of facts,” the knight’s taunts represented the opposite extreme.

At this stage, both Punk and Kane treated “mockery” as a skill to be mastered. After all… there were many situations where verbal provocation proved more effective than a cast of “Rage.” Enemies driven to fury would see their intelligence drop to levels comparable to being hit by “Feeblemind”—particularly when dealing with irrational religious fanatics, where insulting taunts could achieve unexpectedly potent enraging effects! This was precisely why pre-battle “verbal warfare” remained a crucial component of combat preparations.Now Punk and Kane’s taunts were having some effect. The followers of the Nightmare Cult trailing behind the female ranger began to look like ravenous wolves ready to devour their prey. The energy of the Abyss had already twisted their fear of the strong, and now the forces of frenzy and chaos made them completely forget their own power levels. At this moment, even the Formal-Level warrior aide beside the female ranger started gnashing his teeth and shouting threats. Had the female ranger not used her Battle Aura to restrain the most impulsive ones, these overconfident cult members would likely have launched a fearless Charge.

However… neither Punk nor Kane cared in the slightest about the threats from these “ants” who posed no real threat. In fact, from the moment they discovered the enemies, both had kept their gaze and perception firmly fixed on this female Master-Level ranger. This female ranger, who seemed utterly out of place among the lunatics of this Cult, had been staring at Punk and Kane with an intensely complex expression.

“…So, you’re saying that Minotaur Shaman was truly killed by you?”

After maintaining this complicated stare for a long while, the female ranger finally spoke slowly in a meaningful, peculiar tone.

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(End of Chapter)