---

———————————————————

[#~System Notification~#]

———————————————————

[#~Warning~#]

[A player's breath has been detected!]

[Fetching more details about the player... Failure!]

[It has been determined that the conditions for one to see other players have not been met.]

[The system is protecting everyone's identities from one another to give everyone a fair chance at survival.]

[Thus, every player, dead or alive, can not identify one another unless the protection time period has been exhausted.]

└ [Remaining protection period - 30 years]

---

The system window hung before Lucian, churning in its bright cerulean hue as he closely followed his master. With each step, they were nearing the statue of the generational hero—Shie Wusheng.

Even as he followed his master through the soft glow of the midnight mood, the inner streets of Xiouyue were still bustling with crowds. Of course, the central Xiouyue had the most intensity as people bumped into one another every second.

However, since entering the grounds of the center, Lucian could hear the sharp, loud sounds coming from around the statue. To hear such sounds within the muffled noises of the crowd, Lucian couldn't help but wonder what the sound was.

Even so, his breath, which had suddenly been aroused by the system's sudden notification, progressively calmed down as his eyes drifted through the system's message.

'It's nice knowing there won't be an unknown blade coming at me for the next 30 years. Even though I've already offended quite a lot of clans, even just a few less blades to handle is a big blessing. Especially in times like this when this so-called system has dropped a massive bomb on my head.' He thought, his eyes flickering with uneasiness.

Staring here and there as he walked, Lucian's breath grew agitated. It wasn't noticeable at first since he subconsciously ignored it, thinking that it was merely the lack of breath.

But soon, as it grew apparent, Lucian's vision wobbled, and the area around grew obscure with each passing heartbeat. The voices that could make even the laziest person grumble in spite of their intensity, began to dim.

"Child," the old man's voice rang in his mind, clear and loud as day. "I would like to know your opinion on this before deciding how to treat you in the future. Be honest and truthful, and tell me what your heart thinks of this."

Despite the constant change in Lucian's vision and body, the old man's voice sounded loud and clear. It was to the point that Lucian, for a second, thought that it was the old man's doing. If there was something wrong with his body or if it was merely some kind of illusion being put on him by the old man, he didn't know.

"This... It's getting bad." Lucian muttered under his breath, his condition visibly worsening.

Both he and his master had reached the statue, but their steps didn't seem to stop. On the contrary, the world around them both seemed to have stopped altogether. In Lucian's eyes, the people around him had long since stopped. The adults who walked with a smile and the kids who jumped playfully across the street—they all froze as they were.

The voices naturally disappeared along with that. Through the narrow gaps between the frozen humans, the old man continued to walk and bring Lucian with him towards the back of the statue.

There, the atmosphere seemed completely different. Unlike the previous, warm, and soothing environment of life and happiness, the world behind the statue seemed completely opposite. As the cold winds sent chills down Lucian's spine, his eyes widened as he noticed a different crowd gathering at one place right behind the statue.

Several people of all ages stood right beside a wooden fence that was long enough to reach an adult's waist.

"Is that... rope?" Lucian wondered as his eyes caught the image of the crowd perfectly. The image was detailed to the point that one might think they were looking at it from a hand's distance.

How was it possible? Lucian didn't know, and he most certainly didn't care to ponder any further about it. To some extent, he couldn't think straight. He merely stood intact as if something or someone was helping him do so.

"No," Focusing on their hands, Lucian noticed the sharp shape of the rope. Its body was thin and long, as the people held onto it from their handles.

It was a whip. A whip that was often used for torture since its body contained countless half-dug shards of sharp glass, knives, and even a few rusted nails. As the old man pulled him even closer to this crowd, Lucian finally noticed something lingering on the whip. A dark crimson liquid that hung onto the whip and painted it into a bright red color.

As he neared the crowd, his lungs were filled with its tangy, metallic smell—causing his small body to flare up in rebuttal. In protest, his body coughed dramatically, his eyes tearing up as he found it hard to breathe in the blood-filled air.

At the same time, his mind crackled with countless thoughts. Thoughts that only made it more difficult for him to withstand the already worsening condition of his body.

But Lucian didn't give up right then. He wanted to see what the old man wanted to show him. Since the old man hadn't said a word ever since, he simply believed that he hadn't seen the right thing.

Looking at such a miserable state of humans, he simply couldn't think. After all, what could be worse than seeing the maniacal smiles of humans as they ecstatically tortured someone?

But maybe his master truly wanted him to see the one being tortured. Or maybe he really just wanted to show him the cursed side of humans. He didn't really have an idea about what the old man was thinking. At least, not in this state.

With his body trembling, he gathered the last bit of his strength and raised his head. The world within his eyes was spinning profusely, but he still forced his eyes to focus.

"That...!"

From the corner of his struggling eyes, Lucian caught a glimpse. A frail, almost skeletal man was hung by his hands from two gigantic poles that matched the size of the statue behind. The man's hands were bound to the poles with thick, dark metal chains, lifting him into the air by several feet.

The strangling pieces of fabric—corroded with ages of dust and dirt accumulation—barely hung onto his weak body. His head hung forward, waving in the air as if he were unconscious. His pristine white, aged hair flowed down his back, reached the ground, and covered it several times.

However, what truly shocked Lucian to his bones was the blood that pooled into the small nest of his own beard. While the whips continuously hit the man, causing his body to bleed nonstop.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.