"What do you disagree with?"
Mo Shuying landed with Mash, whose face was flushed, whether from taking on the Holy Lance directly or for some other reason.
"I disagree with it, no matter what! Mash! You need to open your eyes! From my experience, I can tell at a glance that this man is no good!!" Lancelot shouted, exasperated.
Mash's face turned even redder. She stamped her foot and exclaimed, "What are you talking about, Dad! We're not like that! I'm not talking to you anymore!"
After saying that, Mash ran to Fujimaru Ritsuka's side. It wasn't clear if it was Mash's imagination, but Fujimaru Ritsuka seemed a little disappointed.
"Lancelot, I'm not trying to criticize you, but how can you possibly use your own experience to judge me? And besides! Why am I 'no good'?" Mo Shuying looked utterly speechless. He had enough "nice guy" cards to play a game of Landlord!
"Hmph! It's a gut feeling! I just have a hunch that you'll have many women around you in the future. Tsk! How enviable! Ah, no! That's going too far!" Lancelot's forehead beaded with sweat; he almost blurted out what he was really thinking.
Mo Shuying gave him a sidelong glance, then ignored him and turned to Cursed Arm Hassan.
"Village Chief, that sword light just now must have been the attack from the First Generation, right? It was truly impressive." Mo Shuying praised sincerely. What that sword strike displayed was not merely irresistible power, but a realm of mastery.
A sword returning to nothingness—that was the realm of death.
Truly worthy of an Assassin who constantly walked the abyss of death, one who had assimilated with death itself.
"It should be. The First Generation's power has always been unfathomable." Cursed Arm Hassan said, not quite understanding but feeling profound respect. Compared to the First Generation, they, the later Hassans, simply couldn't measure up.
"Then…" Mo Shuying hinted at something, and Cursed Arm Hassan understood that Mo Shuying wanted to meet the First Generation.
Cursed Arm Hassan looked a bit troubled. As he had mentioned before, for any Hassan to meet the First Generation meant encountering death.
Just as Cursed Arm Hassan hesitated, a voice, seemingly transmitted from nothingness, resonated. It was ancient yet mysterious, carrying an indescribable feeling.
"Bring him to me."
"First Generation! Yes, as you command." With the First Generation's permission, Cursed Arm Hassan finally agreed to take Mo Shuying to meet them.
Thus, the group returned. Lancelot led his Knight Legion up the mountain, though they ultimately set up camp in the lower section of the village. The villagers' gazes weren't very friendly, so Lancelot had them wait outside the village.
Lancelot, meanwhile, followed Mash and the others into the village. He saw Mordred standing at the entrance, acting as a guard. After a nod of acknowledgment, he entered, then was dumbfounded.
"…My King!? Why?!" Lancelot had received no news about Artoria. Meeting her so suddenly completely stunned him.
"Sir Lancelot, long time no see." Artoria smiled. She had always been lenient with Lancelot.
Seeing that familiar smile, Lancelot sensed something was amiss. After a few seconds of hesitation, his eyes widened. He then knelt on one knee, his voice filled with emotion and trembling.
"My King! Your sinful servant Lancelot pays homage to the King of Knights!" Lancelot had recognized that this was the true King of Knights, not the one in the Holy City.
"What happened in the past is in the past, Lancelot. Are you still willing to fight for me now? My strongest knight." When Artoria said this, Lancelot looked up at Artoria, powerfully struck his right fist against his chest, and roared with certainty!
"I will always fight for you! My King!" Lancelot's eyes welled up. He fought back his emotion. Finally, he was back among the Knights of the Round Table!
"Then rise, Sir Lancelot. Organize your subordinates, sharpen your blades. Before long, we will launch an attack on the Holy City. At that time, you can be my vanguard!" Artoria drew her Holy Sword and tapped Lancelot on each shoulder. Lancelot then rose. Without another word, he turned and went to rally his subordinates.
Mordred saw Lancelot emerge from the room, looking invigorated.
"Father? This guy… Is he reliable? Can he be trusted?" Lancelot was the man who had dishonored the King of Knights, so Mordred couldn't fully trust him.
"If I'm to use him, I must trust him completely. I trust him. By the way, where is my Master knight? Why didn't he come back with everyone?" Artoria questioned. Mo Shuying hadn't returned with the group.
"Uh, it seems the Village Chief took Mr. Mo…" Mash began. At the same time, Mo Shuying had already entered a dimly lit secret passage.
"Since the First Generation wishes to see you, we will no longer refuse. This secret passage leads directly into the Temple. The First Generation is inside. Please, go ahead." Cursed Arm Hassan opened the Temple door for Mo Shuying, revealing a seemingly bottomless passage.
"My lord, this Temple is fraught with danger. Few have ever managed to reach the First Ancestor. Please be careful."
Smoked Drunk Hassan warned Mo Shuying, who nodded and then entered.
After only a few steps, the stone door behind them closed, and flames ignited along the walls, illuminating the path ahead.
Mo Shuying watched the flames, speechless.
"Lighting fires for illumination in a place like this—won't that lead to oxygen depletion or carbon monoxide poisoning? Wait, could that be what they meant by 'fraught with danger'?"
It made sense. If the passage was very long and the oxygen ran out, those who entered wouldn't be able to leave, eventually dying from lack of oxygen. It was a definite possibility.
With this question in mind, Mo Shuying quickened his pace, soon arriving at an underground hall. He could hear air currents, clearly ruling out oxygen depletion.
Just then, a voice spoke.
"Only by overcoming the current difficulties can one be deemed worthy to proceed. Let the trials begin."
An ancient voice echoed.
Mo Shuying instantly felt a prickling sensation on his back.
A chill spread from all directions, and within the cold, pairs of red glowing points appeared.
"Ah!!"
Piercing wails erupted as a mass of undead emerged from the cold. There were skeletons, specters, and Mo Shuying even saw a giant ghostly claw extending from within, as if some massive entity had yet to reveal itself!
"Undead, huh? Truly companions of death!"
A smile played on Mo Shuying's lips. When it came to fighting, who had he ever feared? He wasn't afraid of the living, let alone a horde of the dead!
*"Overwhelming Might!"*
Red light gathered on Mo Shuying's fists. His speed increased, and he charged directly into the multitude of undead! He slammed a punch into the first skeleton, shattering it! Bone fragments flew everywhere!
"Ah!!"
But the next one was a specter. Mo Shuying's second punch passed right through it. The specter then extended a ghostly claw, striking Mo Shuying's chest. The cold was bone-chilling! It actually ignored Mo Shuying's defense and caused him damage.
While the damage was negligible, Mo Shuying's attack had no effect, which was problematic!
*"Siphoning Strike!"*
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