Blue blood dripped from the blade.
Deprived of energy infusion, the demonic sword Dragon Fang reverted to its original dagger form.
The crimson glow in An Yi's eyes faded, returning to their normal color.
His long silver hair also shrank back into his usual short black locks.
The Gourd Immortal, a man steeped in unspeakable sins, was finally dead.
Buried underground alongside the countless skeletons of those he had slaughtered.
An Yi clawed his way through the upper layer of soil, flipping over with great effort before collapsing onto the ground, gasping for air.
"An Yi!"
Seeing him emerge, Nie Qinglan lifted the cumbersome hem of her skirt and rushed toward him, tears welling in her eyes.
"Why the tears? I'm not dead yet!"
An Yi forced himself to stand, his body utterly drained.
After activating Berserk Mode, every muscle felt hollow, his head throbbing as if it had been emptied of all strength.
Still, Berserk Mode was undeniably exhilarating—a 200% boost to all attributes.
If he could unleash this in a fight, he’d practically be invincible!
Then, the Rogue System’s notification chimed abruptly.
Ding! System Alert: Host has used [Berserk Mode] for ten minutes! Total lifespan consumed: ten years!
An Yi:
"Ten years?!"
"What the hell?!"
He’d fought one battle and lost a decade of his life?!
An Yi felt his sanity teetering on the edge.
What kind of garbage system was this?!
No warning when he activated Berserk Mode, but now—after the fact—it drops this bombshell?!
Then again… how long was he supposed to live anyway?
How much lifespan did he even have left after losing ten years?
The thought flickered through his mind before he dismissed it just as quickly.
A 200% all-attribute boost clearly wasn’t something to use lightly.
If he wasn’t careful, he might burn through his lifespan mid-battle and just drop dead in front of his opponent. How humiliating would that be?
But against the Gourd Immortal, he’d had no choice.
That old monster fought without restraint. If An Yi hadn’t activated Berserk Mode in time, the Gourd Immortal’s vines would’ve smashed him to pulp.
Even with doubled stats, he’d barely survived. At his original power level? No chance.
Conclusion: Berserk Mode was a last resort.
One minute = one year of life. The cost was brutal.
"An Yi, are you okay?" Nie Qinglan supported him, her voice tender.
Gone was her usual tough-girl demeanor—now she was all softness and concern.
"I’m fine," An Yi muttered.
Nie Qinglan’s eyes shimmered with tears. She stepped forward and clung to him, sobbing into his chest. "Why… why would you go this far for me?"
An Yi’s brain short-circuited as her fragrant warmth pressed against him.
What was she even talking about?
Individually, her words made sense. Strung together? Pure nonsense.
Tears streaked Nie Qinglan’s cheeks as she cupped his face with delicate fingers.
Now, following the classic story trope—the brave knight rescues the princess, and the princess rewards him with a kiss, right?
Just as Nie Qinglan leaned in, An Yi’s palm smacked over her mouth.
"Cut it out. We need to leave."
This place wasn’t safe.
Lie Tao and the Gourd Immortal were dead, but that didn’t mean the people above ground could be ignored.
In his current state, he had to get out—fast.
Ding Renfeng and the others had their limits. No guarantee they could hold out much longer.
Gritting his teeth, An Yi picked up the combat knife lying on the ground.
The demonic sword Dragon Fang required energy infusion to maintain its form. Now reverted to a ring on his finger, it was far less practical than a simple blade.
Shink!
An Yi slashed through the chains of the dungeon cells. The prisoners inside stared blankly, their spirits long broken.
"I… I’m free?"
A portly middle-aged man stumbled out, muttering in disbelief.
After being imprisoned for over half a year, he’d watched too many people succumb to torture and die here.
He’d felt like livestock waiting for slaughter, his mind numbed by despair. Yet now… sunlight.
An Yi moved swiftly, the locks shattering under his knife’s edge with sparks.
One by one, the humans kept as blood slaves emerged from their cells.
Chengzi, seeing An Yi break his chains, nearly vibrated with excitement. "Night Emperor! You’re amazing! Thank you—thank you for saving us!"
An Yi glanced at him, noting the row of ear piercings.
Huh. Familiar.
Oh right—this was the kid he’d "guided" into breaking into the Night Blossom club.
And now he’d ended up in this dungeon.
What were the odds?
"Don’t mention it. Let’s go." An Yi waved him off, his tone indifferent.
The effortless coolness only deepened Chengzi’s admiration.
This was the aura of a true master! Though… there was something oddly familiar about him.
Even with the mask, Chengzi couldn’t shake the feeling.
"Can you stand?" An Yi crouched beside Zhou Jun, his movements sluggish.
Zhou Jun offered a bitter smile. "I don’t think… I’m making it back."
An Yi studied his pallor, brow furrowing.
His side profession was that of a healer, with medical skills at level 4. In the entire Xia Kingdom, few could surpass his expertise.
An Yi could naturally see the ashen pallor covering Zhou Jun's face—a clear sign of impending death.
Zhou Jun smiled faintly but said nothing as he slowly lifted his clothes.
An Yi's pupils contracted sharply. Despite having witnessed countless injuries, what he saw now was horrifying.
Zhou Jun's body was riddled with gruesome wounds, so severe that "riddled with holes" barely did them justice.
Moreover, An Yi could vaguely make out a gaping hole right through the top of Zhou Jun's skull.
How was he still alive?
An Yi's expression twisted in shock.
The underground battle had just ended.
Meanwhile, at the Night Orchid Bathhouse, the fight raged on.
Ding Renfeng had taken down four black-clad men in the sea of adversaries before a punch to his abdomen sent him crumpling to the ground, unable to rise.
The twenty or so thugs who had come with him were all down as well.
Brother Bao and his seventy-odd men, facing fewer than twenty black-clad opponents, demonstrated what it meant to be utterly outmatched.
Even with three or four men ganging up on a single black-clad fighter, two would still end up dead.
It was like cutting through melons and vegetables—no resistance whatsoever.
Brother Bao was slightly more capable, but with one arm broken, his strength was halved. He barely managed to take down three black-clad men before being captured.
"Pah! You trash actually thought you could start something?"
At the elevator entrance, the middle-aged black-clad man—whose access card An Yi had stolen earlier—stomped on Yao Ji's chest and spat on his face with disdain.
Yao Ji trembled in fear, not daring to move a muscle.
This guy wasn't like the ordinary black-clad men—he was the one who had knocked out Brother Feng with a single punch.
Ding Renfeng tried to struggle, but the blow had been too heavy; he still hadn't caught his breath.
Seeing the situation under control, Mama Liu hurried over and delivered a sharp kick to Ding Renfeng with her high heels, then beamed at the black-clad man. "Ah Hao, you're amazing!"
"Take them to Ah Tao and the others. With this many, there’s bound to be a few suitable as blood slaves. We’ve been running low on feed for that pig anyway," Ah Hao said with a grin.
Suddenly, a surge of deadly aura struck.
Ah Hao's body was sent flying as if hit by a sledgehammer, crashing violently into the bathhouse's luxurious wall, blood gushing from his mouth.
A frigid chill instantly engulfed the entire bathhouse hall.
A breathtakingly beautiful young woman in ancient attire stepped forward from the shattered entrance, her every footstep leaving a trail of frost on the ground.
"Where is An Yi? What have you done to him?!"