Chapter 366: Come, Step Into the Jar—Pay Your Taxes! (Request Monthly Votes)

The artifact tribe’s lands, outside the Vessel Valley.

The setting sun dyed the Mirror Moon Firefly Lake into a pool of golden amber; Yang Xiu sat on a green stone by the lakeshore, his fingertips idly tracing the water’s surface, shattering the sunset’s glow into ripples.

You Ying hovered beside him, its blue-purple swordlight softened by the dusk, patiently listening to Yang Xiu’s tale.

At this moment, Yang Xiu had fully immersed himself in the story he had woven.

His voice, hoarse, gazed at the swaying moon reflection in the Firefly Lake’s center, as if seeing through the Firefly Lake’s mirror into his own “tragic” past.

“So you come from a clan called the Moonshadow Clan?”

Hearing this, Yang Xiu’s eyes flickered with nostalgia, as if awakened to long-lost beauty:

“We lived in treehouses within the Mistveil Forest; every morning we heard the elders play wooden leaf flutes, children chased after the glowing butterflies in the woods, and our hunters never took more than they needed—each hunt returned with the choicest meat shared among the old and weak…”

Here, he suddenly clenched his fist, knuckles whitening, his voice trembling:

“Until three months ago, the evil force descended.”

“A towering black spire rose from our territory; the sky was shrouded by a blood-red crescent moon, and countless evil creatures fell like rain from the churning black mist.”

“Things born from the black mist surged into the forest like mad beasts; the crackling sounds of collapsing treehouses, children’s screams everywhere, the elders detonating themselves to shield us and hold the rear… I still can’t forget.”

He lowered his head, his shoulders shaking violently:

“The clan chief ordered our young to split into twelve groups, taking the children and fleeing first, saying we’d regroup in the Emperor Tomb Mountain range. We ran and ran, into a miasma forest—when we turned back… the people beside us grew fewer and fewer, until only I remained. I failed to protect them.”

The Firefly Lake wind carried Yang Xiu’s sobs, causing the blue-purple aura of You Ying’s blade to ripple faintly.

Yang Xiu lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot but dry—no tears, only a desiccated despair:

“I once told the children we’d rebuild our home, that I’d roast them the juiciest beast meat—but now… they’re all gone.”

His voice choked abruptly.

As if an invisible hand gripped his throat, he violently wiped his Iron Face with the back of his hand—but not a single tear came out.

Yet this desiccated despair pleased You Ying more than torrents of weeping.

Perhaps he had already wept every tear dry.

At this moment, Yang Xiu slowly curled his body, his back pressed against the cold green stone, as if this could shield him from the bone-chilling memories:

“I dare not even go to the Emperor Tomb Mountains… I fear seeing empty valleys, and worse—fear facing them and not knowing how to explain.”

The Firefly Lake wind lifted Yang Xiu’s tattered robes and the black cloth beneath, revealing deliberate abrasions on his arms, glowing a grotesque red under the dying sun.

He sat there, head bowed, shoulders trembling, as if even his breath carried shattered tremors, as if the next second he’d be torn apart by memory.

You Ying, witnessing this, was utterly satisfied with its new host’s reaction.

It had already conceived a fine plan.

At this moment, the being before it was filled with despair—but like stagnant water, lacking the ripples needed to stir repeatedly.

To turn him fully into fuel for negative emotions, it must first cast a “hope” pebble into this stagnant pool.

Why not follow his story and journey to the so-called Emperor Tomb Mountains?

If no clan members appear, it proves the clan is annihilated—deepening his disappointment and despair.

But You Ying more hoped Yang Xiu would reunite with his clan at the rendezvous.

When Yang Xiu drowned in the joy of reunion, You Ying would strike silently.

It would infect the minds of Yang Xiu’s reunited clan with the Evil Sword Line’s “Mind-Deluding Curse,” making them blame and berate Yang Xiu.

Tell Yang Xiu: if he hadn’t panicked and led them the wrong way, how could the children have fallen into the miasma forest?

Call Yang Xiu a coward.

Thus, You Ying would watch Yang Xiu fall from the joy of reunion, pierced by the resentment of his former clan, riddled with wounds.

The warmth of reunion would slowly be gnawed into icy regret by guilt.

But this alone was not enough.

The corrupted clan members must press closer, stabbing his deepest wounds with the cruelest words, forcing him into a corner with no retreat—then, subtly trigger the suppressed despair within him, transforming it into uncontrolled malice.

Then, seize this chance to manipulate him into using You Ying to personally slaughter those accusing him.

During this time, You Ying would lend Yang Xiu the power to massacre his entire clan.

When he killed the last one, just before the final blade fell, You Ying would lift the “Mind-Deluding Curse.”

Let him see the last surviving clan member’s blood splatter across his Iron Face as they died, let him witness the final clan member’s terrified, despairing gaze.

Preferably, let them cry out in pleading.

You Ying would never let him stop this blade—it must fall with crushing force in utter despair.

Yang Xiu would surely shatter completely then.

You Ying imagined Yang Xiu kneeling in a pool of blood, sobbing uncontrollably; its blade trembled with excitement.

But the narrative it had woven was not yet complete.

When Yang Xiu believed all was irredeemable, You Ying would gently tell him there was still a chance to begin anew.

The secret technique You Ying possessed could resurrect those he had just slain.

When he ignited his final spark of hope and strained every ounce of will to follow this method, this phase would force him to endlessly cultivate the Evil Sword Scripture, nurturing negative emotions through extreme suffering.

Until every last drop of value was squeezed dry, then reveal the truth.

When hope shattered again, this final agony would plunge him into endless darkness.

Repeatedly pulling him between hope and despair, forcing him to destroy everything he cherished with his own hands.

Only then would the negative emotions extracted be rich, sweet enough.

At this stage, this new host would inevitably shatter mentally, losing all further value for play.

You Ying’s blade trembled faintly, emitting a barely audible hum—deeply satisfied with its imagined perfect plan.

At this moment, the blue-purple swordlight gently settled atop Yang Xiu’s head, radiating a hint of deliberate warmth:

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“Before annihilation, individual strength is insignificant; merely surviving is already a miracle.”

“Rather than languish in painful memories, Iron Face the fear in your heart.”

You Ying’s voice was gentle, as if it could cradle even the sharpest despair:

“Even if the outcome is as you fear, at least you can bring solace to your fallen clan, and closure to yourself… If you trust me, come with me to the rendezvous. Perhaps… fate will give you an answer. Perhaps, there is still a chance for reunion.”

“Really… is it possible?” Yang Xiu snapped his head up, a faint yet burning light flashing in his eyes—like a dying ember ignited by wind—but the glow quickly dimmed.

“But I’m a worthless waste—I couldn’t even protect the children. How could I Iron Face them?”

He lowered his head; his self-loathing nearly overflowed, etching into You Ying’s perception the image of “despair hiding a sliver of hope.”

You Ying sneered inwardly, yet its expression grew even more compassionate:

“All lost souls can be redeemed—especially when the situation was beyond your power to change. If you truly meet your clan, they will forgive you.”

Yang Xiu said nothing; the evening wind stirred his disheveled hair, his gaze growing more lost, as if sinking into thought.

Then, color slowly returned to his eyes, his gaze gradually sharpening.

At this moment, Yang Xiu’s livestream chat had exploded.

“My skin is crawling—this shift in expression is flawless! From rapid dimming to resurrection from ashes—every detail is perfect. Oscar-worthy acting.”

“Bro, you’re wasting your talent on pet builds. I hope they add a Soul-Hun ability that grants rule-energy through acting—that’s your true calling.”

“Screen-recorded. That self-loathing tone? Perfect. The desperation to grasp hope while feeling unworthy—I couldn’t help but clap. This scene must be enshrined in glory. Suggest submitting it to the Star Net for Best Performance Award.”

“Every gesture, every micro-expression—pure theater. Your acting isn’t just fooling You Ying—it could make the leader of the Evil Sword Line bite the hook on the spot. Too slick. No wonder the brothers voted you to blaze the trail—you’re truly legendary.”

At this moment, Yang Xiu suppressed his inner joy.

The big fish was now deeply hooked.

All prior setup had been to tell You Ying one thing: he still had clan members.

Before arriving, he had researched extensive data on the Artifact Tribe.

He discovered the Artifact Tribe loved one thing: giving hosts hope, then forcing them to destroy it themselves.

So the existence of clan members was a perfect hook.

From “twelve evacuation groups” to “reunite at the rendezvous”—each detail, seemingly carelessly revealed, precisely targeted the Evil Sword Clan’s hunting preferences.

He had even predicted You Ying would voluntarily propose accompanying him.

Directly asking You Ying to follow him to meet his clan would be the worst approach—risking suspicion.

As a hunter, the perfect method is: cast the bait.

Then let You Ying bite it willingly.

Now, the plan had succeeded.

You Ying clearly wanted the same narrative arc as the former Ba Jian—repeatedly pulling between despair and hope.

Next, having You Ying accompany him to the Emperor Tomb Mountains would be perfectly logical.

It was You Ying’s own idea—he asked for nothing.

Thinking of this, he slowly lifted his head.

“You… you really want to come with me?”

Yang Xiu’s voice still trembled with hesitation; the faint light in his eyes brightened slightly, yet remained wrapped in thick cowardice:

“But the Emperor Tomb Mountains are very far from here…”

This sounded like concern for the journey ahead—but in truth, it offered You Ying a smoother path.

Though a spatial teleportation array existed nearby.

But better not expose it—saying “let’s teleport” would be too obvious.

The Artifact Tribe already possessed space-tearing abilities; better to let You Ying voluntarily carry him.

The more he hesitated, the more he revealed fear of the unknown, the more excited You Ying would become.

He wanted to give you the illusion that you controlled everything.

Sure enough, a firm reply from You Ying echoed in his mind:

“With me here, what is there to fear on the path ahead?”

It emphasized its tone, radiating unwavering certainty:

“Even if it’s a mountain of knives and sea of fire, I will carve a path for you.”

With those words, the blue-purple swordlight surged violently, slicing a brilliant arc through the night sky gradually swallowing the earth, making the air hum with vibration.

Yang Xiu looked up at the blue-purple halo, then slowly lowered his head and said, “Thank you.”

His hair fell, obscuring his brows and eyes.

The prey had willingly jumped into the trap; now came the time to draw the net—but he would leave that timing to You Ying.

As he had anticipated, You Ying asked proactively:

“Do you remember the spatial coordinates of the agreed meeting point, or the route to reach it?”

Yang Xiu’s gaze sharpened, as if struggling to recall.

After a moment, he raised his head and recited the exact coordinates of the teleportation point in Emperor Tomb Mountain Range.

The moment Yang Xiu finished speaking, the brothers in the livestream chat began rolling up their sleeves.

Near the Emperor Tomb Mountain Range teleportation point, pet-stream players continuously summoned various types of monsters, while their teammates held potions, ready to apply buffs at a moment’s notice for the coming battle.

Some players also posted livestream recordings on the forum, drawing more non-pet-stream players to join the spectacle.

All preparations were complete; a vast net had been laid around the newly constructed teleportation point in Emperor Tomb Mountain Range.

Even to prevent You Ying from teleporting away upon arrival, Yang Xiu’s inner circle had purchased three special crystals capable of stabilizing space.

The goal was to completely sever You Ying’s escape route.

Time passed in waiting; on the livestream, Yang Xiu followed You Ying as it tore open a spatial rift.

Seeing You Ying’s mastery of spatial teleportation, players in the livestream were filled with intense envy.

In fact, top-tier players today possess sufficient combat power to tear open space and teleport.

But the problem is, it requires immense time and effort to learn.

The threshold is terrifyingly high.

First, one must fully master the fundamentals of spatial theory.

Just as a carpenter must understand wood grain, before tearing space, one must precisely sense the local spatial density, node distribution, and even how air currents affect spatial stability.

This step alone demands years of dedicated study and experimentation, until every spatial parameter is ingrained in memory.

One must also repeatedly validate this through practice; even a slight miscalculation could tear not a passage, but a spatial current capable of devouring everything.

Second is control over the release of spatial energy.

Top-tier players may have enough power to rip open space, but the difficulty lies in precision.

Like slicing paper with a knife—too light and it won’t cut, too heavy and it tears into shreds.

Spatial teleportation demands exact control over the force of the tear; if the gap is too wide, lacking a spatial barrier for protection, one risks being sucked into the void.

This too requires years of training.

There are many other concepts to comprehend.

The vast majority of players simply cannot settle down to spend years studying and mastering this.

One could accelerate progress via “brain overclocking.”

But if all evolution points are allocated to brain overclocking, one’s own combat power may still be insufficient to tear space—and even with overclocking assistance, learning still consumes considerable time and energy.

Meanwhile, the Artifact Race and other races traverse the Monster World for long distances.

Spatial knowledge is essential.

From a young age, they study spatial theory, only entering practical testing once their power is sufficient to wield it.

Throughout their growth, their spatial skills have continuously improved.

The oldest players have only been in the game for a little over two years; in pure spatial technique, they are on an entirely different level from other factions.

Yet in players’ eyes, there is one super shortcut to solve this problem.

Someday in the future, when the Miraculous Butterfly is contained, all problems will vanish.

Even without the Miraculous Butterfly, perhaps other Primordial beings with spatial abilities will emerge, allowing players to directly control spatial teleportation.

While waiting, the sky suddenly rippled like water, spreading visibly outward.

Then, a twisted, flickering black line rapidly extended across the air.

The blue-purple swordlight pierced space first; You Ying’s figure, dragging Yang Xiu, emerged from the warped spatial rift.

But as soon as You Ying saw the scene before it, the sapphire on its sword guard erupted with a dark glow.

It suddenly realized something was wrong.