Chapter Ninety: The Prison of Earth Spikes-Age of Martial Arts(Cool nights come and go.)

At this moment, all eyes were fixed on Ye Yu, who seemed every bit a sage descended from the heavens. His arms stretched wide, the ancient zither floated before him. Streams of violet energy surged ceaselessly into his body, and he resembled an invisible vortex, absorbing the incoming waves of power.

Old Hu narrowed his eyes, subtly shifting his stance backward. A peculiar smile played at the corner of his lips, half mirth, half mystery.

“It seems ‘Liang Ye’ is unleashing one of his unique techniques—must be from that custom skill talent tree. Such a display is truly unmatched. I wonder what his ranking really is; if not S-tier, he can’t be far from it,” Old Hu murmured. The others wore looks of surprise, but considering it was Ye Yu, they weren’t overly shocked.

“You all don’t seem particularly surprised by his skill set,” Old Hu remarked.

“We’ve grown numb to it,” Huang Hong replied, arms crossed before his chest, feeling the wind gusting toward them. “Our third brother is prone to conjure up unimaginable surprises for us. In short, the real show is still to come, isn’t it?” One after another, the group retreated, bracing against the powerful winds.

“I see. Seems I’ve underestimated him,” Old Hu chuckled with a shrug, inwardly astounded at how highly they regarded ‘Liang Ye.’

Since that’s the case, let me see for myself just how far you’ve taken this game, ‘Liang Ye.’

…

At the very same time, within the headquarters of Mythos Technologies, Feng Ling, clad in a sleek black suit, stood tall in the technical department. He watched as Ye Yu’s instance was magnified on the screen before him—a spectacle that had drawn the entire department into rapt attention.

“This could be mistaken for a real martial arts film. The clash that’s coming promises to be thrilling,” someone whispered.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait.”

“And this is the Xuantian server. That string master must be the new player everyone’s been raving about on the forums recently.”

“I’ve read some of his guides—brilliantly written. He even marks bosses with difficulty ratings and suggests formations for civilian-level teams.”

“All right, enough chatter.” At that, Guo Yuan, who stood behind the technical staff, spoke in a low voice. The team immediately quieted, tension making their shoulders stiffen.

Guo Yuan turned to the raised platform behind them where Feng Ling stood. “President Feng, is it really necessary for you to watch personally?”

“I want to see for myself whether the player who unlocked the Ancient World map and achieved an S-rank rating on the custom talent tree is merely lucky—or truly skilled.”

…

Suddenly, Mo Soul’s form was enveloped in a blaze of green fire. His hand reached through the flames, seizing the returning spear, which was now sheathed in fire, transforming into a slender, majestic halberd. As the flames receded, Mo Soul’s visage became clear: striking features, heroic and imposing, his right hand gripping the long, domineering halberd, eyes blazing with fury as he stared at Ye Yu.

He wore a golden crown atop his tied hair, a battle robe adorned with a hundred flowers, Tang-style armor, and a lion’s belt. The green flames coalesced into a steed of fire, upon which he mounted and rode forth, halberd at the ready.

In an instant, Mo Soul plummeted toward the ground. A violent vortex formed around him, the impact of his halberd sending shockwaves rippling outward from the point of impact. The winds roared like primordial beasts, unstoppable and fierce.

Old Hu’s expression changed drastically. “Fall back—now!” he shouted.

The group snapped to their senses and, galvanized by his lion’s roar, sprang back just in time to evade the raging storm.

Boom—

Old Hu darted forward, massive shield in hand, positioning himself before the retreating group. The shield gleamed and expanded to several yards in size, splitting the storm and shielding his companions from harm.

“That was close! How can Mo Soul’s skill cover such a massive area? Anyone caught in that would be grievously wounded,” Qu Zheng exclaimed, still shaken.

Old Hu exhaled heavily, but just as they thought themselves safe, the ground began to tremble violently beneath their feet. The tremors intensified, and then, from the path of the shockwave, jagged earthen spikes erupted, dust swirling in the air.

In the blink of an eye, the spikes formed a colossal prison, encasing the area the shockwave had swept through. Old Hu and the others found themselves outside the barrier, while Mo Soul and Ye Yu remained trapped within.

“What’s going on? Third Brother!” Huang Hong cried in alarm, while Luo Feng’s face twisted in shock and anger. “He’s still in there! I’m going in!” he declared.

Fear gripped the group, and only Old Hu managed to keep calm. He reached out, restraining Luo Feng with a firm hand. “If you go in now, you’ll only make things worse for him!”

“The damage of a skill can often be gauged by its visual effect. ‘Divine Lament’ offers new players plenty of clues in this aspect. This move is clearly deadly—just look at how it’s encased the area in a prison of spikes. Mo Soul’s technique is devastating, and if anyone rushes in now, it won’t help ‘Liang Ye’—it will only doom him!” Old Hu’s words, though laced with anger, were meant to steady the group and bring them to their senses.

“Will… will he be all right?” Luo Feng asked, his worry plain upon his face.

Old Hu remained silent, his expression grim, brows knitted in deep thought. Meanwhile, within the earthen prison, Ye Yu’s form began to emerge, his entire body shrouded in a violet aura. His eyes, aglow with profound purple light, were as cold as ice.

…