Chapter Fifty-Two: A Few Enemies

The second floor of the labyrinth was even darker than the first, and far fewer people lingered here. Zhao Nan stood at the entrance, which also served as the exit of the instance. Each level of the maze allowed players to leave directly through the entrance, but entering again always meant starting from the first floor.

Around a hundred players were gathered here, sitting in small groups, scattered about. Their faces were haggard; some bore wounds, their expressions twisted with pain.

But fear was more common.

On the second floor, ordinary monsters ranged between levels fifteen and sixteen—a formidable challenge for players barely past level ten.

Few paid any attention to Zhao Nan and Phenina as they entered, accustomed as they were to such sights. After a cursory glance, the two strode away, ignoring the mocking looks cast their way.

“Look, another pair with more courage than sense.”

“We’ll see them again soon—or maybe we won’t.” Someone whistled from afar, calling, “Hey, pal, add me as a friend. Maybe I’ll be the one to collect your corpse!”

But Zhao Nan and Phenina were already gone, and the whistler chuckled awkwardly, turning back to his companions to boast about the monsters he’d defeated here, easing the oppressive mood through bravado.

“Why do these people, clearly exhausted and out of supplies, refuse to leave?” Phenina asked, puzzled by the resting players and Zhao Nan’s oddly familiar actions. There were things she chose to ask, and others she waited to be revealed.

“Experience,” Zhao Nan replied, running his hand along the wall, tapping and knocking as he spoke softly, “The monsters here are too strong for most players right now. Even if they can’t venture deep, fighting lesser creatures along the edges is still faster for leveling than doing outside quests.”

“And us?” Phenina asked.

“No need, let’s clear the second floor first,” Zhao Nan answered, still exploring the walls until they reached the end of the second floor, where he finally ceased his search, slightly disappointed.

The emblem of the “World’s End” guild was displayed here, identical to the entrance at the end of the first floor—a massive hexagram inscribed with magic, a large teleportation crystal, blood stains resembling plum blossoms, and traces of lingering magical energy.

It seemed several guilds had already cleared the second floor. Zhao Nan murmured, touching the teleportation crystal. No guardian monsters appeared, suggesting the area had only just been cleared; otherwise, monsters would have already respawned.

Zhao Nan squinted at the prominent “World’s End” guild mark, sighed, and ultimately chose to enter the third floor directly. Though reluctant to miss out on the guardians here, with the guild’s mark present, it was only a matter of time before more players arrived.

…

The sensation of teleportation, as smooth as warm milk poured over the skin, faded. Before their eyes stretched a dim crimson landscape.

It felt like blood just dried in the air, carrying a metallic tang. Phenina wrinkled her nose, quickly covering her face.

“Hey, buddy!”

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A voice, tinged with surprise, reached Zhao Nan as his vision cleared—it was Gao Mingyang.

Unlike the second floor’s entrance, more people sat here, divided into four distinct groups.

Zhao Nan’s expression remained unchanged as his gaze swept over the “Blood Shadow” guild without pause.

Then came the “Inferno” guild. Zhao Nan spotted Ximen Yu, beside whom a burly man whispered quietly in his ear. Zhao Nan had met this man twice before: once at a marketplace, and once regarding the “Darkness” affair.

Ximen Yu nodded gently toward Zhao Nan, his eyes inscrutable, his demeanor calm. Zhao Nan nodded in return, then looked to another sizeable group, likely the “Guardian Knights” guild, and finally to the smallest contingent—the “World’s End.”

Zhao Nan had anticipated meeting Gao Mingyang within the instance, but hadn’t expected it to happen under these circumstances, nor for Gao Mingyang to be the first to recognize him.

Gao Mingyang’s quick wit earned Zhao Nan’s smile. He knew well what the name “Zhao Nan” meant to “Blood Shadow,” yet chose to conceal it, greeting Zhao Nan simply as “buddy.”

“Come over here!” Gao Mingyang waved, his face bright with sunshine. Only Gao Xiang, beside him, noticed the dampness at the back of his neck—cold sweat.

Aside from Gao Mingyang, Zhao Nan saw many familiar faces: Xu Fei, Gao Xiang, Xu Feng—all present, but unexpectedly, so was Xu Yang.

The female teacher’s gaze flickered as she watched them approach, then she bowed her head, quietly chewing the elven biscuits she clutched in both hands, her expression as lifeless as chewing wax.

Gao Mingyang’s group numbered fewer than thirty, some bearing wounds, nervously eyeing the dark red path ahead. As Zhao Nan joined them, their anxiety shifted to curiosity.

“Honestly, you were hard to find!” Gao Mingyang stood and slung an arm around Zhao Nan’s shoulder, pulling him close. He whispered, “Later, if I ask you to go buy some healing potions and mail them back, you two leave immediately! I haven’t made a guild badge, so they don’t know you’re not part of our guild.”

Zhao Nan was silent for a moment, about to reply.

A sudden shout shattered the silence.

“I recognize him! He’s the one who killed the coach!!”

In the “Guardian Knights” camp, a man pointed dramatically, his face flushed with excitement, his finger trembling. “Brother Zhang, it’s him! He killed the coach! I’d never mistake him! It’s Zhao Nan!”

Zhao Nan!

That name had filled the ears of Dongyuan City’s players for the past two days. The first to react wasn’t the young man beside the accuser, but the unified voice of the “Blood Shadow” guild.

“So you’re Zhao Nan?”

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Within “Blood Shadow,” a burly man arched his brow, his eyes squinting with such force that his eyelids resembled those of a seventy-year-old.

“That’s Luo Kewen. Since Zuo Panglong died, he’s been running ‘Blood Shadow’... Hey, buddy, just between us, is that Zhao Nan merely someone who shares your name?” whispered Gao Mingyang, sweat pouring down his face as he swallowed hard.

“I am,” Zhao Nan replied calmly, looking at Luo Kewen.

“Good! Did you kill Zuo Panglong?” Luo Kewen demanded.

“No.”

His voice was as cold and still as dead water. Zhao Nan didn’t even shake his head, simply stating his answer.

Luo Kewen paused, his fist clenched, muscles bulging, his presence menacing. He gritted his teeth. “Liar! It’s obviously you!”

Zhao Nan squinted, studying Luo Kewen. The man could easily identify him—not just through the name, but likely from other features. The wanted notice had only listed the name; perhaps the guild didn’t want to miss a single “Zhao Nan.”

That, truly, was the proper approach.

Zhao Nan whistled lightly and blinked. “Please wait a moment… And you, who are you?” he asked, turning to the young man who had pointed him out.

The commotion prompted many from the “Guardian Knights” guild to stand, forming an orderly cluster around the accuser—the size of two military squad formations.

“Hmph, don’t play dumb! How long has it been—at most a month—you think I’d forget you?” The accuser sneered, his thin lips moving rapidly. “A month ago, in the zombie zone!”

A month ago.

For Zhao Nan, it had been six years and one month. Still, he found the memory.

In that moment, realization dawned on Zhao Nan.

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