The next day, at the entrance of the Valley of Death, the fierce wind sliced through the exposed rocks like invisible blades, emitting a sharp whistle.
“Irene of the Masquerade” crouched with her companions and Serena, hidden in the shadows of the jagged stones, brows furrowed tightly.
“The guards are too vigilant,” Serena whispered, her fiery red eyes sharply scanning ahead. “The patrols overlap densely, and the sentries are placed at such tricky spots that there’s barely any gap to sneak through. Forcing our way in would make too much noise and surely trigger an ambush.”
Beneath Irene’s mask, her golden pupils mirrored the same gravity.
The emotional turmoil stirred by Serena’s words the previous night had yet to settle, and the grim reality before her pressed down once more.
The number of demons far exceeded expectations, and their organization was tight—not comparable to the petty mercenaries in Thor City.
Helga’s detection magic also revealed several powerful sources of magical energy, some especially cold and terrifying. They were undoubtedly elite demons, perhaps even high-ranking figures. The demons occupying the Valley of Death must have some scheme. What exactly lies within the tomb at the valley’s bottom?
What could be important enough to mobilize the demons on such a scale?
Just as they were at a loss, Irene suddenly noticed demon patrols passing both in front and behind them! They either retreated or faced a high probability of being discovered, which would lead to a massive battle!
While Irene was pondering what to do next—
A cold little hand suddenly reached out from behind a weathered rock and grabbed Irene’s wrist precisely!
Startled, Irene instinctively tried to pull free and counterattack, but the hand’s grip was weak, yet carried a sense of urgency. At the same time, a faint voice, barely above a whisper, sounded: “Don’t make a sound! Follow me!”
It was a girl wearing tight leather armor, dyed in colors that blended almost perfectly with the surrounding rocks, her face painted with gray-green camouflage that merged her into the environment.
Her movements were extremely agile, like a nimble lynx, pulling Irene quickly into a narrow, extremely concealed crevice barely wide enough for one person.
Lillisa and the others reacted swiftly and silently followed.
The crevice was narrow and winding but provided cover from outside view.
Only then did the girl exhale in relief, glancing outside cautiously. After confirming their safety, she turned around to reveal a pair of clear yet anxious amber eyes.
“You’re adventurers?” she asked urgently, her voice trembling slightly.
Irene nodded. “We’re adventurers from Thor City. And you are?”
“My name’s Aya. I’m an assassin guarding the tomb!” Aya said hastily. “Please, save our clan leader, Grandpa! Those black-robed cultists and terrifying demons captured him, pierced his scapula with chains, and hung him on the altar to torture him! They’ve also captured many of our people and are forcing us to disguise ourselves as tomb guardians to deceive anyone who comes from outside!”
Tears welled in her eyes. “They’re using the Holy Sword as bait to lure more adventurers and church knights to kill them! Grandpa, our clan leader, would rather die than yield, so they’re threatening him with the lives of our people! If this continues, Grandpa and our clan will all…”
Irene raised an eyebrow. “The Holy Sword?”
So that was it. No wonder the ruined clan mobilized such forces. The Holy Sword Barumuk was the legendary divine weapon wielded by heroes of old, said to possess unrivaled power with special effects against demons! Using the Holy Sword as bait would indeed attract a large number of adventurers—even if they knew it was a trap, many would still rush in!
Aya nodded. “…Maybe because it’s been so long, the world has forgotten our clan’s duty to guard the Holy Sword. That’s why the demons got there first. But they can’t touch the sword itself—it still rests on the altar!”
Irene took a deep breath, suppressing the surge of righteous impulse in her heart.
She wasn’t alone. She had to be responsible for the entire team. If the demons intended to ambush the church and adventurers, their numbers would be huge. With their current strength, rushing in would be like smashing stones with eggs!
She analyzed calmly. “Aya, we understand your situation. But there are only five of us. Our combat power is seriously insufficient. If we force a rescue, not only won’t we save your clan leader, but both our team and your people will be lost.”
Helga added solemnly, “The captain is right. The best course right now is to return to Thor City immediately, report this situation in detail to the Adventurers’ Guild and city guard, and then assemble a large team of adventurers and church knights to clear out this demon den! That’s the only way to have a chance to rescue everyone successfully.”
The light in Aya’s eyes dimmed momentarily but soon rekindled with hope.
She nodded vigorously. “I understand! You’re right! As long as Grandpa and the clan are saved, we can discuss any reward! Our tomb guardian clan has guarded the hero’s tomb for generations; we have some savings!”
She quickly pulled out several large black cloaks with hoods from her small bag. “These are spare patrol cloaks. Put them on quickly to disguise yourselves as tomb guardians. I know a relatively hidden path that avoids most patrols and can get you out!”
Irene and the others immediately took the cloaks and wore them. The large hoods concealed their faces and features, blending in seamlessly among Aya’s group. At a glance, they looked like ordinary tomb guardians.
Aya led them swiftly through the labyrinth of wind-eroded stone pillars and narrow passages. She was extremely familiar with the terrain and always found the most concealed routes.
The light at the valley’s mouth was just ahead—hope was within reach!
Suddenly—
“Hey! You lot!” A rough shout came from the side! A patrol squad of three demon warriors and two black-robed cultists blocked their path. The demon leader carried a serrated machete, his crimson eyes sweeping over them. “Not enough hands to relieve the shift! You’re coming with us! Help carry the sacrificial materials to the altar at the valley’s bottom!”
Aya’s body stiffened, and Irene and the others instantly tensed.
Lillisa’s fist clenched quietly under her cloak.
Irene’s mind raced.
Should they strike here? The moment they moved, other patrols nearby would notice, and escape would become much harder!
She made a quick decision, slightly turning her head to sternly signal Lillisa and Serena to hold back. Then, mimicking the low, numb tone of a tomb guardian, she murmured indistinctly, “… Yes.”
She restrained Helga, who was about to act, shaking her head silently.
It wasn’t time to fight yet. They had to endure.
“Stop dawdling! Move it!” the demon warrior snarled impatiently.
Irene and the others had no choice but to follow the patrol squad, walking deeper into the valley under the openly contemptuous and mocking gazes of the demons and cultists, heading toward the tomb entrance emanating an evil aura.
“Hmph, these tomb guardians are all like wooden logs. Just looking at them is annoying!”
“If the Grand Archbishop didn’t say to keep them around for the show, they’d have been slaughtered long ago!”
“Hey, shorty, walk faster! Didn’t you eat?”
Irene kept her head low, shoulders hunched, playing the role of a timid, cowardly tomb guardian, answering meekly while quietly memorizing every fork in the road, sentry post, and troop deployment along the way.
The deeper they went, the stronger the stench of blood and desecration became.
As they passed through a massive stone door engraved with twisted runes, footsteps echoed in the corridor ahead.
A cold, ethereal presence, as if capable of freezing the soul, spread through the air. The once arrogant demon patrol fell silent and respectfully parted to either side, bowing deeply.
A figure cloaked in a wide black robe slowly approached.
The hood concealed her entire face, save for a few strands of shadow-like silver hair that draped down.
It was the Grand Archbishop of the “Blasphemer” — Ayla.
She appeared uninterested in the patrol squad and walked straight past them.
However, just as she was about to pass by, her footsteps halted imperceptibly.
Beneath her hood, an invisible gaze seemed to land on Irene, disguised as a tomb guardian.
The sensation of being watched was faint but sent a chill down Irene’s spine, as if something in the abyss had glanced at her. She forced her body to remain stiff with bowed head.
“Wait.” Ayla’s ethereal voice rang out, like ice water dripping, “You,” her slender finger pointed at Irene, “and you,” she gestured toward a demon in the patrol, “come with me.”
The demon leader blinked in surprise and promptly replied, “Yes! Grand Archbishop!”
Irene’s heart sank sharply, but she had no choice and followed on resolutely.
Helga and the others clenched their weapons beneath their cloaks but could only watch helplessly as Irene was taken away.
Ayla led Irene and the demon slowly through the vast, dim underground tomb.
She appeared to be strolling casually, without a clear destination.
They passed through grand yet filthy halls, sulfur-scented corridors, and prison blocks confining more tomb guardians whose muffled sobbing could be heard.
Finally, they reached the tomb’s core — the most heavily guarded area — a massive altar plaza made of black stone.
In the center stood a stone pedestal emitting faint golden light, and embedded in it was an ancient-looking long sword, its blade shimmering with a soft starlight — the Holy Sword Barumuk!
Irene’s heart raced wildly! Not from fear, but from exhilaration! She forced herself to keep her head bowed and expression submissive, but her peripheral vision, like the most precise scanner, greedily recorded every detail: the demon deployments around the altar, several secret passages leading to the core, key energy nodes inscribed with evil runes, and even the position where Shadowfang — the towering, ferocious demon wolf — flickered in the distance!
This was a godsend! The Grand Archbishop was practically a living map guide!
Ayla paused by the altar’s edge for a moment, seemingly gazing at the Holy Sword or perhaps lost in thought. She ignored the two behind her.
Back in Ayla’s cold chamber decorated with a bizarre altar, she casually waved her hand. “You, step back.” She pointed at the demon.
The demon respectfully saluted and left.