Chapter 37: No Honor in Combat, Resorting to Ambush!

Within the magic circle, the aura surged violently, though it seemed more time was needed to amass a truly devastating blow. Wang Chen felt his heart tighten with apprehension. Magic scrolls were powerful, and their use was scarcely limited by one's level, but when it came to seizing the perfect moment to strike, they could never match the mastery one had over their own skills—unless, of course, he could wield the same scroll four or five times over, perhaps then he would wield it with greater ease.

As Wang Chen waited for the incantation's wind-up to conclude, the luminous threads gleaming atop Forest Gale snapped, as delicate as strands of silk.

A sharp twang rang out.

With that crisp rupture, the skeletal giant python regained its freedom of movement, coiling its massive body to lunge at Wang Chen. He had anticipated this, and the moment the serpent stirred, he moved as well, darting between the temple's stone pillars. The giant python, though agile, could not maneuver its colossal form with the serpentine grace of a smaller snake.

Its tail lashed repeatedly, striking pillar after pillar, sending tremors through the temple. Dust rained down from the arches overhead. As Wang Chen darted aside once more, his stride swift as a meteor, and concealed himself behind another pillar, a black radiance flared at the serpent’s underbelly and tail.

In that instant, its form seemed to flicker and fade—so swiftly that even Wang Chen’s trained eyes nearly lost track of it. Suddenly, it reappeared not far ahead, prompting Wang Chen to retreat in alarm. He feared the serpent might abruptly halt and whip its tail at him with lethal force.

Yet this time, the giant python seemed uninterested in him; its huge white skull crashed straight into a stone pillar.

A thunderous boom erupted.

The pillar shattered instantly, stone fragments scattering through the air, one of which sliced a shallow cut across Wang Chen’s cheek, drawing blood. Without hesitation, Wang Chen dashed behind another pillar.

The black afterimage at the serpent’s tail still lingered as it twisted and accelerated again, charging straight for him. Another mighty pillar crashed down like a falling mountain.

Each time the giant python lunged, its speed reached blurring extremes, yet every impact with a pillar forced its body to jolt to a halt. Wang Chen found this curious.

In battle, if you cannot decipher your enemy’s strategy, they are either a flailing fledgling or their tactics simply elude your understanding. When their plan comes to fruition, disaster will descend like an avalanche. In such moments, it is best to assume the latter, remain vigilant, and devise countermeasures without delay.

Another pillar collapsed with a deafening crash as Wang Chen slipped behind yet another refuge.

Is this creature trying to destroy every pillar and leave me nowhere to hide? The thought flashed through Wang Chen’s mind.

Does it not fear the temple losing its support and collapsing entirely? He looked up, and realization struck him. Of course! The temple had only half its roof remaining. Even if the ceiling fell, the giant python could easily dart to safety with its speed, while he would likely be crushed beneath the debris.

Wang Chen glanced at the serpent, which was busy toppling yet another pillar. Truly a cunning beast, he mused. But does it not realize that the longer this drags on, the better it is for me?

His gaze shifted to the magic sigil suspended in the air—the glow now growing ever more brilliant.

No, perhaps it seeks mutual destruction. Even if the final moment brings death by magic, its aim is to pin me here and ensure my demise as well. Wang Chen shuddered at the narrow escape; fortunately, he had caught on in time.

But is all this orchestrated by its so-called master? Where is he lurking? Wang Chen’s brows knitted tightly, the lines of worry etching deep—did this mean yet another adversary awaited him?

He continued the deadly dance with the skeletal python, watching as it demolished the temple’s columns. Since the situation was as it was, he resolved to deal with the immediate threat first.

Darting from behind a pillar, Wang Chen sprinted toward the center of the hall. The giant python, seeing him abandon their game of cat and mouse, gave chase without hesitation. With no pillars left to dodge behind, the serpent’s speed became terrifying, closing the distance rapidly.

Wang Chen lunged forward, then spun around to face his pursuer, shouting, “Giant python, your trick has been exposed! Farewell!”

As his shout rang out, every line of the magic sigil above blazed with searing flame. The light flared, the sigil spun violently, and a barrage of fire meteors shot forth!

The distance between the magic circle and the serpent vanished in seconds as blazing meteors, trailing waves of heat, slammed into the python’s skull.

The skeletal serpent, once poised to crush Wang Chen, was forced to the stone floor by the impact, marble tiles fracturing into spiderweb cracks. Its massive body became a lever—its head pressed down, its tail whipped high, and though it did not attack deliberately, its tail still crashed toward Wang Chen.

Another fire meteor struck.

The serpent’s tail and skull were smashed together, contorting its massive form into an impossible arc, as though performing a feat of acrobatic prowess.

At the same moment, each meteor exploded upon impact, shattering into fragments like a shotgun blast of iron pellets, scattering with deadly force. Every inch of the skeletal python’s frame was riddled with these impacts, the bones pocking and cracking until the fractures ran together—its skeleton now as brittle as porcelain.

The inferno of the meteors, though not as unquenchable as a dragon’s flame vortex, burned hot enough to make the serpent’s ivory bones gleam with a dazzling sheen.

At first, the skeletal python thrashed and roared in defiance as it was pinned to the ground, but with each successive bombardment, its furious bellows faded into silence.

Wang Chen quickly checked his own condition, ready to finish the beast off if the meteor storm proved insufficient.

Just then, as his attention was fixed on the inferno engulfing the python, a blade flashed toward his back!

He was too late to evade.

Fortunately, an aura of bubbling protection—bestowed during his earlier battle with the python—still enveloped him, the rippling water shield guarding his body. The blade struck, swift but lacking power, and the water shimmered, rippling before dissolving the attack entirely.

“Well, well—resorting to sneak attacks now? So much for honor!” Wang Chen pushed off with his toes, darting aside to put distance between himself and his assailant.

He looked up and recognized his attacker—it was none other than Bald Biao!

Behind him, at the temple’s entrance, several figures rushed forward, emboldened by Bald Biao’s failed ambush.

Wang Chen frowned. He’d known they were tailing him, but had paid little mind—after all, even outnumbered, in this suppressed realm he could simply blast them all with scrolls if necessary.

But how had this bald brute managed to approach so silently?

The thought unsettled him. If he hadn’t made a habit of shielding himself in this strange, dark plateau, that blade might well have landed true—not fatal, perhaps, but certainly painful.

One of the newcomers grinned at Bald Biao. “How was that, Old Biao? My ‘Silent Step’ skill isn’t bad, eh?”

He turned to Wang Chen, his voice cold. “Too bad my strike wasn’t heavy enough. Let’s see how long you can keep dodging death.”

Wang Chen studied the man, finding something familiar in his features. A moment’s recollection brought clarity—they had met before at ‘The Exotic Den of Delights,’ and the encounter had ended on a sour note. The man had left with a threat on his lips.

“You’re… Huang Ba?”

After a brief search of memory, Wang Chen spoke his name aloud.