Chapter 202: Art Is Explosion

Not being able to harm these monks isn't the most despairing thing.

What's most despairing is that the monks guarding the wagon don't even know if they received orders; they've already spread out to encircle the battlefield, apparently intending to join the fight for a quick finish.

Eighteen monks threw them into a melee, making it impossible even to approach the wagon pulled by the white elephant; with another group coming, they're doomed to fail.

Just as everyone's morale sank, several players revived at the respawn point rushed the outer monks; they were quickly beaten to death with random sticks, but their death‑blow wounded a monk, bright crimson blood streaming down his earth‑colored robe, glaringly vivid.

"These guys aren't high level, they can be beaten!"

A sharp‑eyed player spotted the splash of red and instinctively shouted loudly.

The player sent to the respawn point saw the injured monk shielded by others and his eyes lit up instantly.

Death isn't frightening, and everyone here is at least level 15, with Lifespan generally over four hundred years, so despite heavy life consumption, no real casualties have occurred yet.

With the respawn point right behind them, this is destined to be a prolonged stalemate; as long as we can drag it until the enemy's True Essence is exhausted, victory will be ours! With that thought, the newly revived player's spirit jolted, and they split off toward the outer monks to prevent the main‑field allies from being surrounded.

However, this instantly reduced the number of players on the main battlefield; although it prevented being encircled and annihilated, casualties spiked and Lifespan consumption surged.

"We can't keep going like this,"

Song Bingyuan stepped out of the respawn point, eyeing the scorching battlefield with a bad feeling.

As acting director of the Cultural Tourism Bureau Logistics Department in C City, his level, boosted by official resources, has already surpassed Chen Shicheng's, reaching level 18 with all Skills equipped; following the proper steps, he could soon handle things on his own.

But there's no time now for him to slowly upgrade Skills; if these monks aren't dealt with today, and the Core Treasure isn't seized or destroyed, the motherland could end up just like a hundred years ago. Thinking that ordinary players outside are still fighting, possibly holding up reinforcements, while this team, bearing the hopes of fifteen hundred million people nationwide, makes no progress, his eyes instantly turned blood‑red.

This war must be won, not lost! Yet what can he do now? Level 18 is high among players, but on this battlefield he can't even hold out for a minute.

After the monks surrounded the main field, low‑power players like him could only disperse to the outskirts to deal with equally weak monks.

Even so, it's death after death, offering no help to the battle at all.

Seeing the opposing side ragged yet without any casualties, Song Bingyuan steeled himself, sheathed his weapon, discarded all attack and defense, and channeled all True Essence into his legs, indifferent even as his skin stretched, tore, and yellow‑white muscles were exposed.

"Everyone, get out of the way!"

A booming shout rang out, and the player blocking the outer monks instinctively glanced back.

A player whose legs were drenched in blood, with a manic grin, flickered like an afterimage and surged past everyone.

Before anyone could react, the player tilted his head slightly, letting a long staff aimed at his head strike his shoulder.

"Crack."

The staff hit Song Bingyuan's shoulder squarely, shattering his scapula without doubt, a large fragment collapsing into his chest cavity.

Yet he seemed oblivious to the pain; after spitting out a mouthful of blood, he opened his right hand and grabbed the attacking monk.

"Not good, save him!" Several nearby monks' faces changed; they swung their staffs behind Song Bingyuan, trying to kill him, but he showed no reaction, letting the staff strike his back.

"Die with me!" Song Bingyuan bared a blood‑red mouth, his entire True Essence reversing and surging toward his dantian.

He was about to self‑detonate! The monk he held startled, instantly unleashing True Essence to fling the madman off him.

But it was already too late.

Even though the madman's left arm was broken, his right hand still clutched him tightly; realizing his intent, he bit down on his shoulder, determined to take one down even in death.

In his desperate gaze, Song Bingyuan had finished all self‑detonation preparations; his body swelled, then—"Bang!"

Blood and flesh mixed with chaotic True Essence swept the field, instantly silencing the outer battlefield; everyone turned to the explosion's center.

The self‑detonated Song Bingyuan vanished, turned into a pile of shredded flesh, and the monk he held was barely clinging to life.

The front of his body had a layer of flesh stripped away by the chaotic True Essence, exposing his abdominal organs; the facial flesh vanished, leaving a pair of eyelid‑less eyes rotating in his skull.

If it weren't for the Buddhist arts' strong defense, he'd have met the Buddha by now; but even surviving isn't a blessing—this state is worse than death!

A fellow sect member nearby, seeing this, hurriedly took an Elixir from his Storage Bag to heal him, but as his hand entered the bag, he froze on the spot, then stared stiffly toward the players.

The players who just wore resolute faces now had oddly strange gazes, for unknown reasons.

Yet that strange look chilled every monk present.

"Heh heh heh heh"

No one knows who deliberately mimicked a villain's voice to laugh a few times; the front‑row player seemed to receive a signal, imitating Song Bingyuan's method, sheathed his weapon and lunged with open arms at the monks.

"Form formation, defend, we can't let them—"

A leading monk hadn't finished speaking when three players blocked his torso, brandishing their long staffs that had earlier shown some technique, now swinging chaotically.

"Stop struggling; even shouting your lungs out won't help!"

With a lewd remark, a player, having sacrificed an arm, grabbed the monk's legs; the other two players followed, clinging onto his body.

"Art is explosion, ha!"

With a roar, three simultaneous explosions erupted, followed by a burst of blood rain, chilling every monk's heart as they all turned toward the blast's center.

There was no surprise.

The monk's body was torn into pieces, mingling with the scattered flesh.

The team escorting the Core Treasure recorded its first death! (End of chapter)