Chapter 85: Clan-Trained Knights
The reflection revealed a mirror hanging on a corridor wall. Due to the lack of light, the field of vision was extremely limited, showing only a portion of the dark hallway and its mottled, peeling wallpaper.
Zhou Ning studied the scene outside the mirror, not moving rashly.
After observing quietly for a while and hearing no sound or movement, he hesitated for a moment before deciding to go out and take a look.
The Phoenix armor he wore had incredibly strong frontal defense, far exceeding Level 60 equipment. As long as he didn't run into a major boss, he felt he stood a fighting chance.
He had already tested the armor's features. A button on the right arm fired a grappling hook that latched tightly onto its target. Another button retracted the hook, using the reaction force to pull Zhou Ning along with it. If he couldn't win a fight, escaping would be no problem.
A truly smart person never does anything they are completely unsure of.
He pressed his hand to the mirror's surface, which rippled mysteriously. Using the effect of [Damian's Ordinary Mirror], he passed through it as if it were a thin film and entered the building.
The corridor was longer than he expected and carried a faint, musty smell, a clear sign of poor ventilation.
"Do you feel anything?" Zhou Ning asked in his mind.
"I sense a suppressed evil."
Sister, can you please speak in plain English?
The hallway floor was covered with a thick, exquisitely embroidered carpet. It was clear the owner of this house was not short of money.
After the brief exchange, Zhou Ning ignored Jasmine's cryptic warning, activated the night vision on his Phoenix armor's helmet, and moved forward in silence, calmly analyzing the situation.
The corridor ran the length of the second floor, connecting to a balcony and staircase on either end to form a W-shaped layout. Bedrooms, bathrooms, studies, and other rooms lined both sides.
After a few minutes of fruitless searching, Zhou Ning reached the stairs.
He pondered for a moment, then deliberately lightened his steps and crept carefully down. Thanks to his incredible agility and coordination, the wooden stairs didn't make a single creak.
Through the night vision goggles, he could clearly see a living room at the bottom of the stairs. Various pieces of classical furniture were arranged quite tastefully. Near the door, two statues of a human body with a lion's head flanked the entrance, with the word "Löwenmensch" inscribed on their bases.
But what first caught Zhou Ning's attention were the numerous picture frames hanging on the walls.
They weren't paintings or decorations, but portraits.
Hanging portraits of one's ancestors in the family home was a custom that dated back hundreds of years to the Kingdom of Fariq.
Mystically speaking, it was said that the portraits allowed the ancestors to bless the house.
…
Meanwhile, in a mansion not far away, a middle-aged man dressed like an aristocrat sat in an easy chair in his living room, enjoying muffins and cakes before a charcoal-burning fireplace.
Suddenly, a portrait hanging nearby blinked, as if foretelling something, warning him.
The man's leisurely expression vanished, replaced by a grim scowl. He shot up from his chair, strode to the coat rack, and snatched a black, hooded robe. He threw it on and quickly walked out the door.
…
Just as he was descending the stairs, Zhou Ning heard footsteps approaching from a distance. He quickly fired his grappling hook at the ceiling, ascended rapidly, and flattened himself against it. A moment later, a brown-haired man in a black robe appeared below, holding a candlestick. Perhaps hearing something, the man glanced around in confusion but never thought to look up.
Zhou Ning waited until the man had passed before calmly retracting the hook and dropping silently to the ground.
As he suspected, he saw the black flame emblem on the left breast of the man's robe. This was indeed a stronghold of the Curse Cult.
Zhou Ning silently followed the black-robed cultist through a porch and into a room with a crimson altar. On it stood a red statue of a ferocious-looking deity with countless tentacles growing from its shoulders and sides, each one carved with an eye—some open, some closed. Two massive goat horns grew from its head.
Around the evil statue lay more than a dozen long-dead corpses.
Three candles were placed before the statue in an inverted triangle—a symbol of black magic and corruption in Apocalypse.
In addition, several members of the Curse Cult stood praying around the altar. A red light connected each of them to the statue; they were clearly sacrificing their own life force.
"There must be an evil god sealed underground here," Jasmine said in his mind. "I saw a similar ceremony a long time ago. They're sacrificing their vitality to unseal it."
"I know," Zhou Ning said, taking a deep breath. He still had some explosives in his inventory from the previous night and felt a sudden urge to blow something up.
Suddenly, Zhou Ning felt as if someone was staring at him. Turning his head, he saw a portrait hanging on the wall.
The painting depicted a well-dressed gentleman with brown hair, ice-blue pupils, a high-bridged nose, and a large beard—a typical Braxton man. The portrait was so realistic it seemed as if the man's eyes were looking right into his.
On the frame was a name: Norman Reeve…
Before he could finish reading it, a chill swept through the room.
The gentleman in the painting suddenly winked at him.
Zhou Ning froze. ???
At that same moment, his Observation Haki screamed with an unprecedented sense of crisis. His heart pounded. Without thinking, he lunged toward a nearby window.
Bang! Bang!
All around the house, windows slammed shut and curtains were drawn.
Zhou Ning's pupils constricted. Not far ahead, the man in the black robe had appeared in front of him at some point.
The extreme malice in his eyes made Zhou Ning's heart race, and a chill rose from the depths of his soul.
"Mind Whip!" the black-robed man commanded, pointing at Zhou Ning.
An instant later, Zhou Ning felt as if a hammer had slammed into his skull. He grew dizzy, his vision blurred, and he felt a warm liquid trickling uncontrollably from his nose.
-128! A shocking damage number popped up. Half of his 270 HP had vanished in a flash.
With no time to think, Zhou Ning made the most correct choice possible. He whipped out his revolver and launched a deadly counterattack. As he retreated, a bullet wrapped in Armament Haki flew toward the man in the black robe.
[Your fatal counter-shot hit ???. Your Armament Haki weakened the target's defense, dealing 239 true damage!]
The bullet tore through the black-robed man's body, but the health bar above his head barely budged. He bent his knees slightly and chanted, "Everything is created by human will!"
Instantly, Zhou Ning felt an immense pressure from the man, and his body froze in place for a brief moment.
He stared in stunned disbelief. A clan-trained knight! This bastard is actually a clan-trained knight!
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