Chapter 217: All or Nothing!

Dammit! Dammit! What the hell is that thing?!

Since when did the Ten Kings Office brat become so wicked?!

Stop the nonsense! Quickly! Use the Backdoor! Get out of this cursed place!

The three, still trembling with shock, felt their hearts pound as if about to burst from their throats, and they scrambled up the stairs with hands and feet, charging into the desolate, ruined first‑floor hall.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the broken windows, forming murky Light Pillars, and the swirling dust made their nerves quiver.

The main entrance of the hall was right before them!

If they could burst out, the streets would be outside, they could blend into the crowd, they could…

The scar‑faced strongman at the front seized the vermilion door, which Huo Huo had kicked open and now hung ajar, and he pulled it outward with force—

Ho!!!

The three simultaneously inhaled a gasp of cold air, as if their throats were being strangled; every movement froze instantly, their pupils shrinking to needle points from sheer terror!

The door… was blocked.

No, it wasn't blocked by an object.

It was a face.

A colossal face, almost entirely covering the doorway, cut from coarse yellow paper!

Distorted features, an exaggerated grin stretching to the ears, and eyes painted with cinnabar that stared straight at them!

The paper face was slapped onto the door, sealing every exit; bathed in the outside light, it exuded a chillingly eerie aura.

Ghost… ghost!!!

The member with the wandering eyes, the most timid, was terrified beyond comprehension, let out a shriek, his legs gave way, he staggered backward and collapsed, his crotch instantly soaked.

The scar‑faced strongman and the middle‑aged man were also petrified, instinctively retreating, their backs slamming into the cold wall, with nowhere to fall back.

At that moment, from behind them, the stairwell leading to the Basement emitted slow, steady footsteps.

Tap… tap… tap…

Each step felt like stepping on their wildly beating hearts.

The three, like rusted machines, strained to turn their stiff necks and look toward the source.

The petite Fox Maiden Judge, wearing black sunglasses, stepped out of the dim stairwell, re‑entering the hall's dim light.

She showed little expression, merely looking at them with Calm eyes, as if watching three mice with no escape.

Despair and fear gave rise to a mad thought.

Let's… go all out against her!

The scar‑faced strongman's eyes reddened, he gasped, drew another dagger from his boot, and roared, "She's alone! The three of us! At worst we die together!"

A hard glint flashed in the middle‑aged man's eyes; knowing there was no escape, he slipped several poisoned darts from his sleeve.

The wandering‑eyed one, still trembling on the ground, fumbled out a handful of powder.

The three exchanged a glance, mustered their last ferocity, howled, and lunged at the seemingly defenseless Huo Huo!

Goal clear—subdue this bizarre Judge first, then find a way to break the door!

Facing the three charging forward, Huo Huo halted.

She didn't even make any defensive or evasive move.

Just as the scar‑faced strongman at the front, the dagger's cold glint about to graze her hem—

Bzz—

A low, soul‑shaking hum resonated through the hall without warning.

Behind Huo Huo, the air suddenly expanded!

Green Flame erupted, like a Nether Spring blasting from void, booming!

It instantly coalesced and took shape!

It was no longer a mere flame, but a massive form entirely composed of leaping Green Fire… a fox!

It nearly filled most of the vast, ruined hall, its lithe and imposing form outlined by burning flames that traced sleek lines and a fluffy tail; its eyes, made entirely of denser golden Flame, hovered like molten suns, devoid of emotion, exuding a disdainful, ant‑like superiority as it gazed down at the three members who had abruptly halted.

Time seemed frozen at that moment by those golden eyes.

The scar‑faced strongman's dagger clanged to the floor; he opened his mouth, tilted his head back, stared at the Giant Fox whose head nearly brushed the rotten beams, his mind blank, his knees gave way, and with a 'thud' he fell to his knees.

The middle‑aged man's poisoned darts had vanished into some corner; his face turned ashen, lips trembling, unable to utter a sound, he could only futilely brace against the wall to keep himself from collapsing.

The one on the ground who had wet his pants now forgot even to tremble, rolling his eyes white, a wheezing 'hoho' escaping his throat, on the brink of fainting.

The burning Giant Fox tilted its massive flaming head slightly; the indifference in its golden eyes seemed to flicker with a hint of oddly human… mockery?

Then it opened its mouth—the entirely flame‑formed maw—but no sound emerged.

Instead, a chill that pierced to the soul, like the harshest north wind, swept over the three sprawled on the ground.

They finally understood, in full, what kind of being they had provoked.

This was no ordinary Junior Judge of Ten Kings Office that could be handled at will.

This damn thing is a living ancestor wielding Netherfire, capable of summoning a divine beast (?), descending to the mortal realm!

It's over.

All over.

Siberia's cold wind, laden with fine snow, scraped the exposed skin like icy sandpaper, over and over.

Du Ya knocked out the last Destiny Valkyrie attempting to trigger the alarm with a deft strike, then steadied her collapsing body, gently placing her beside a snow‑laden supply crate, the motion as practiced as handling a fragile item.

She straightened, rubbed her nearly frozen hands, and couldn't help letting out a sharp shiver, her teeth chattering.

Sss—this cursed place…

She muttered softly, her gaze sweeping over the now‑silent small outpost.

The Valkyries sprawled haphazardly formed irregular mounds in the snow; distant tents rustled in the wind, and beyond that, only the whimper of wind and snow.

This is already the second similar camp they have dealt with.

Du Ya's sense of pride and professionalism as a World Snake elite is quickly being worn down by this aimless assault and Siberia's harsh cold.

She looks toward Chang Ye Yue, who is holding a Black Umbrella not far away, as if the wind and snow were merely a backdrop; Chang Ye Yue tilts her head slightly, her crimson eyes scanning a patch of seemingly ordinary snow at the camp's edge, where a thin layer of snow has already accumulated on the umbrella rim.

"Miss Chang Yeyue,"

Du Ya walks over, her voice sounding a bit hoarse from the cold and fatigue, "What on earth… are we here for? There must be some objective, right?"

She tries to make her tone sound like simple curiosity rather than questioning.

Heaven knows what plans are brewing in those two heads: one is taciturn, subsisting on Bubble Noodles and fighting, the other is inscrutable, laughing in a way that makes one's skin crawl.

Du Ya has long realized that this Siberia Mission has nothing to do with Grey Snake Half Money; it was purely concocted by the two of them.

As for the Le Tu disappearance case that was previously billed under an alien name?

Du Ya's vague suspicion becomes clearer, most likely also tied to them.

But what can she do?

Run? Where to run?

With her short arms and legs, it's safer to honestly stay a "guide"—at least for now they don't seem to intend to silence anyone.

Just as Du Ya's inner monologue turns into a comic strip, Chang Ye Yue finally seems to have discovered something.

She strolls to a relatively open patch of snow at the camp's edge, stops, and then—makes a movement that makes Du Ya's eyelids twitch.