Chapter 425: Surrender

The speed of a Master-Level powerhouse was inherently ridiculously fast, and the ranger class was renowned for its explosive bursts of velocity. When these two factors combined, they created an instantaneous killing force so extreme it was like a silent breeze.

Zola’s strike was simply too swift, compounded by the disorienting effect of a sudden ambush. Her adjutant beside her had no time to process what was happening. Even as his head separated from his neck, his face still wore the arrogant expression of someone ready to charge forward and fight Punk and the others to the death, yet his skull was already slowly descending through the air.

When death arrived so abruptly, this Formal-Level warrior hadn’t managed even a hint of resistance or a startled cry. Under the ambush attack of a Master-Level powerhouse, the adjutant’s demise occurred in mere moments.

After eliminating her Formal-Level adjutant, the remaining cultists—mostly at the Apprentice-Level—were naturally left completely vulnerable. With a gentle flick of Zola’s crimson whip, a blade’s gleam sliced through the air at extreme speed. What parted along with the breeze and sunlight were the bewildered heads of dozens of cultists.

“These folks privately like to call me the ‘Beheading Queen.’ Honestly, I’m not too fond of such an ungraceful nickname, but… thinking about it now, it suddenly feels quite fitting.”

Dodging the rain-like shower of blood with nimble, rapid footwork, Zola’s red hair traced a crimson silhouette in the scorching air.

“Alright, the troublesome trash has been dealt with. Can we have a proper talk now? Oh, and a reminder to that knight over there—we can discuss things right here. Bedtime should be reserved for more… interesting activities.”

Casually shaking her whip, the female ranger sent a few droplets of bright red blood flying onto the sand, where they vanished without a trace.

For a Master-Level powerhouse, eliminating over fifty Apprentice-Level professionals was trivial—a single casual move was enough to deliver fatal blows. The death of mere low-level professionals wasn’t particularly shocking, but Zola’s words at this moment left both Punk and Kane momentarily silent.

Of course, compared to the female ranger’s somewhat flippant remarks, the backdrop of dozens of heads neatly falling behind her added a uniquely striking effect.

“Hey, hey, hey! Did I hear that right? You’re giving up on an exciting fight to negotiate? Seriously? You Nightmare Cult folks have learned to negotiate? Come on~ Don’t tell me it’s some boring scheme. What I’m looking forward to is a good, thrilling battle!”

Planting his lance in the ground, Kane took a step forward, his gaze growing increasingly aggressive. Punk, standing beside him, showed no signs of letting his guard down either. When facing enemies at the Master-Level, no amount of caution could be considered excessive.

Seeing Punk and Kane’s thoroughly wary demeanor, Zola let out a soft sigh and reluctantly dispersed the Battle Aura fluctuations around her. Then, she tossed her whip to the ground and raised both hands, clasping them behind her head.”I surrender! So, can you two listen to me now? I’ve essentially betrayed the Nightmare Cult, and killing these cultists serves as some proof of my sincerity. Moreover, I won’t conceal any information about the Nightmare Cult from now on. Under these circumstances, could you ask that spellcaster to temporarily withdraw the spell in his hand?”

With a hint of fear as she watched the faint purple light flickering in Punk’s hand, Zola softly voiced her request with resignation.

Punk narrowed his eyes slightly as he observed the bitter smile on Zola’s face.

“Your reasons? Why surrender without a fight? Why did you come here? And finally… why betray the Nightmare Cult? Though your actions were decisive, a mere group of ants hardly counts as proof of sincerity. You understand what I mean.”

His icy tone, as always, carried an intimidating force. Combined with the azure glow in his pupils, Punk, as an eighteenth-level spellcaster, exerted an overwhelming pressure on everyone present.

On the other side, Kane remained vigilant, his gaze fixed intently on the enemy. After all, feigned surrender was something to guard against at all times, especially since Zola was still standing outside Punk’s magical traps. Merely dispersing her Battle Aura and discarding her weapons wasn’t enough to render a Master-Level combatant powerless.

Compared to Zola’s actions, her answers to Punk’s questions were far more critical. Both of them knew that if her responses showed even the slightest hint of inconsistency, Punk’s spells and Kane’s Charge would erupt instantly. Neither of them was a pushover—when it came to prioritizing interests, “better safe than sorry” was a fundamental principle.

Faced with the spellcaster and knight poised to strike at any moment, a bead of sweat slowly trickled down Zola’s forehead. Even as a fellow Master-Level expert, the pressure of confronting two monsters like Punk and Kane was immense for the female ranger.

“Well, let me answer these three questions one by one.”

Knowing how crucial her next words were, Zola quickly shed her usual flippant tone and grew serious.

“There are two main reasons why I surrendered without a fight. First, I don’t want to die. I can sense that both of your professional levels exceed mine, and this town is riddled with magical traps. If a fight broke out here, I doubt I’d even have a chance to escape!

And on the other hand…”

Here, Zola swallowed hard and spoke with gravity.

“For me, encountering two powerful individuals like you is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—one I can’t afford to miss. It’s a chance to overthrow the Nightmare Cult. With your strength, you might actually be able to topple that damned old man from his divine pedestal and bring this hateful Nightmare Cult to ruin!

As for why I came here…”

A trace of indescribable self-mockery tugged at the corner of Zola’s lips.

“On one hand, I heard about the death of Kulong—that annoying Minotaur Shaman—and came to investigate. On the other hand… I truly hoped to find the powerful individuals who killed that shaman. It seems I’m fortunate—I found you.”Finally forcing a slight polite smile, Zola did her best to smile at Punk and Kane. It had to be admitted that Zola, who always maintained a stern expression and heavy makeup, possessed a unique charm when she smiled.

However, in response to Zola’s optimistic and hopeful smile, aside from Kane’s frivolous whistle, Punk simply chose to ignore it—he had just keenly caught the key phrase in Zola’s words, and now pressing for answers was the real priority:

“You just mentioned some damned old man? Are you referring to the leader of the Nightmare Cult?”

“Yes.”

Zola nodded affirmatively. At the mention of this “damned old man,” a lingering fear surfaced in the female ranger’s expression:

“The ‘damned old man’ I spoke of is none other than the founder and ruler of the Nightmare Cult, a top-tier powerhouse who has been wreaking havoc in this desert for over three hundred years, and the mastermind directly responsible for the mysterious disappearances of several Master-Level figures who entered the Raging Wave Desert—the nineteenth-level Master-Level Mage, Sosend Jess!”

(End of Chapter)