Chapter 4582: Day of the Brightest (48)

Deathstroke took about a second to accept the current situation. Then he directly fired a grappling hook, which firmly grabbed the wall behind Shiler, and Shiler jumped onto the grappling hook and reached the door in three steps.

"What the hell is going on?" Deathstroke said, "After you disappeared, that magic circle wouldn't activate no matter what. I had to go back to the first pyramid and hack it open, and then I fell into a strange room and had a hard time getting out."

"Was it the room with the disks?"

"That's right." Deathstroke complained, "More characters, more patterns, it took me forever to open it. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Shiler shook his head and said.

"Who do you think made this place?" Deathstroke and Shiler moved forward together in the tomb passage. He muttered, "The real pyramids aren't like this, right?"

"Of course not. The person who designed such a puzzle could only be an ancient Egyptian."

"What do you mean?"

"If it were a modern person, what we would be facing now should be pure English puzzle-solving, an army of man-eating beetles, tomb passages with fire-breathing traps and flying hammers and axes, and a resurrected pharaoh mummy waiting for us at the end."

"Uh..."

Deathstroke thought about it; if he were to design these puzzles, it would probably really be these elements. Blame it on Hollywood for only knowing how to shoot these kinds of movies. They don't care what ancient Egyptian culture is really like, as long as the plot is thrilling, exciting, and bizarre enough.

But in reality, the puzzle-solving along the way wasn't exciting; it was more of repetitive labor. Moreover, ancient Egyptian characters and murals, dung beetles just passing by, jumping games without any trap elements—this clearly hadn't been corrupted by modern games. If anyone had played modern video games, wouldn't there be a three-dog formation behind the tomb door, pouncing, biting, and crashing, sending you back to the start with a three-hit combo?

"It wouldn't really be some resurrected pharaoh's ghost, would it?" Deathstroke examined the surroundings and said, "But why would they want to find trouble with us? Could it be because we attracted a meteorite and woke him up from his sleep?"

"First of all, we didn't necessarily attract the meteorite. Secondly, the pharaoh shouldn't have turned his tomb into an amusement park. Finally, we have work to do again."

They looked at the tomb chamber in front of them, which was simply a combination of the previous levels. A full moon hung on the dome above, casting shadows on the ground. The disks kept rotating, and the steps floated up and down. Clearly, this required them to perform some dynamic puzzle-solving.

"My God." Deathstroke patted his forehead and said, "I don't think this is something our two crabs can handle."

"It's okay, solve it." Shiler said.

Deathstroke looked at him suspiciously. Why was his temper so good? As far as he knew, this Agent hated wasting time, especially doing some meaningless repetitive work. Why was he so easy to talk to this time? Could it be that he was really interested in Egyptian culture?

But since Shiler had expressed his stance, Deathstroke couldn't shirk it anymore; he still owed the other person a favor. Solving puzzles was also quite good; at least the equipment wouldn't wear out.

Actually, the two of them worked together quite well. Because they both belong to the type whose brains turn fast, and whose instinctive reactions are even faster. As long as they grind together a little, their coordination is quite tacit. They only tried about two or three times, and the puzzle was solved.

When the puzzle was solved, all the steps fell to the ground, the disks stopped rotating, and the room became quiet. And that full moon began to bloom with light.

The moon became brighter and brighter until soft white light filled the entire room. In the white light, a figure slowly descended and hovered above the dome.

And Deathstroke watched helplessly as Shiler took out his revolver, stuffed all six bullets into it, raised the gun, and lifted his hand.

BOOM!!!!!!!!

Although Deathstroke had put on his mask and covered his ears before he fired, this loud noise was still far beyond his expectations. He could clearly feel his ears bleeding.

Now he understood why Shiler wasn't angry; this Agent had already figured out how to combine six shots into one—you can set up countless puzzles, and I only need to fire one shot.

That figure slowly condensing and taking shape above the dome was shattered again. The moon extinguished instantly. Deathstroke only heard the crisp sound of a pile of parts falling to the ground.

Because of his familiarity with killing, Deathstroke could tell that what fell to the ground didn't seem to be flesh and blood, nor was it something like a soul, but more like a pile of bones.

This made people a bit creepy. Could it really be a pharaoh resurrected?

And at this time, Shiler walked into the darkness, bent down, and picked up something. When he walked out, he gave Deathstroke a fright, because what he was holding in his hand was a falcon-like skull.

"Khonshu." Shiler called out his name, "Now you have three seconds to tell me why you appeared here..."

The big falcon head's beak moved, making a clicking sound. And Shiler pulled the barrel of the revolver out of the bird's beak, and a low voice sounded in the room.

"Mortal, why intrude into the realm of the Moon God..."

With a "click," the barrel was stuffed back in, and Shiler said: "Skip all the lines. Otherwise, you can say goodbye to your beak."

"Cough cough... take that thing away..." Khonshu roared in a low voice, "Who built such a cannon for you?!"

Deathstroke gloated on the side: "The Justice League. Is that righteous enough?"

"Cough cough cough... let me go first..."

Shiler let go, and countless bones gathered together. The moonlight turned into a silver ribbon, draping a robe over the tall figure. A staff condensed in a gust of wind. He reached out and tapped the floor lightly, and the moonlight lit up again.

That bird beak opened wide, then closed again. It seemed like it wanted to recite lines, but forgot them under tension.

"Go to the moon." Khonshu said, "The dark side of the moon."

"Let's go." Shiler turned and left with the gun. Khonshu hurriedly reached out his staff to block him, then said: "Aren't you going to ask why?"

As soon as the words fell, the barrel almost stuck into his mouth again. Khonshu hurriedly raised both hands to signal surrender. Shiler put away the gun and said: "In consideration of you skipping all the lines, I won't argue with you about the puzzle-solving process. Otherwise..."

"I have nothing more to say." Khonshu hurriedly indicated, "Let's go. Your car is at the door, and the tank is already full."

Shiler took Deathstroke and walked out. When they went out, there was no complex structure, just one road. As soon as the door opened, the car was parked at the door, and the tank was really full.

"Who is that guy?" Deathstroke asked when he got into the car.

"Khonshu. Simply put, the Moon God in African mythology."

"Why would he appear here?"

"How would I know."

"You look like you're quite familiar with him." Deathstroke said.

"Where did you see that?" This time it was Shiler driving. He stepped on the gas, and the bright moonlight began to dim. They reappeared on the road, with huge pyramids looming on the horizon, as if they were still on the way to the Giza plateau, and everything that had just happened was just a dream.

When they arrived around the Giza plateau, the police had indeed already surrounded the place. A meteorite fell between two pyramids; fortunately, it wasn't large and didn't cause much damage, completely inconsistent with the commotion it caused. And the police were also driving away the onlookers who were watching the fun.

Deathstroke took out his binoculars and took a look; the shape of the meteorite was very peculiar, just like a small moon. He immediately associated it with the Moon God Shiler mentioned. "So we were inside that just now?"

"It might just have been affected by meteorite radiation." Shiler said, "Fortunately, we gained new clues, and the effort wasn't wasted."

"What kind of new clue is this?" Deathstroke said, "He told you to go to the moon to find him. How do you plan to go? Contact NASA?"

Shiler looked at him with a look like he was looking at a fool and said: "Why, does Wonder Woman have to take a rocket to go to the moon?"

Deathstroke was choked. He said: "You plan to turn in the mission like this? Without even a voucher? Will the Justice League listen to your nonsense?"

Shiler let out a long sigh and said: "I really don't know how you became the world's number one mercenary. If I were in this business, your position would be in jeopardy."

Deathstroke snorted with great dissatisfaction, staring closely at Shiler, as if wanting to hear his high opinion. But Shiler didn't say anything, just drove back to the Egyptian Museum.

They came to the Tutankhamun exhibition hall again. That mural still stood there quietly. Shiler walked up, took out a small knife, stabbed it into the mural with one knife, and successfully pried off a piece of rock.

"Hiss..." Deathstroke gasped, "What are you doing? This is..."

What he originally wanted to say was "This is a cultural relic." But he suddenly realized that this wasn't a cultural relic; this was a fake made by Shiler. The history might not even be half a year—purely new, indisputably new.

And as the creator of the cultural relic, no one was more qualified to edit it than Shiler. Deathstroke watched helplessly as Shiler used a small knife to carve a moon pattern where the snake's eye was, and also drew some patterns similar to moonlight.

Then, he used the knife to cut the round moon open, scooped out half of it, and even dug it a bit concave. This made that piece look darker in color than other places, just like the dark side of the moon.

Immediately after, he drew some floating little people near the moon; they didn't look like humans because their heads were too big and their bodies too small, looking more like some kind of alien, praying to the moon.

"Done." Shiler clapped the debris off his hands, looked at it from a distance, and then said, "Doesn't this have evidence now?"

Deathstroke was silent. He understood that compared to a conscientious mercenary like himself, Shiler was more like the kind of killer who would create chaos himself, make the employer have to find him to solve the trouble, and then because the chaos was created by himself, he only needed to sit in the office, copy all the documents, and go to turn in the mission.

What's even more terrifying is that Shiler is not one person, but a gang. They can have one person create trouble and one person solve it; one person threaten the employer and one person protect the employer; one person create evidence and one person destroy evidence. Eating the upstream and then the downstream, by biting their own tails, creating infinite performance.

Deathstroke had to admit that if Shiler really planned to do this, his position as the number one mercenary might not really be secure. ===== CHAPTER 4583 =====