Journey to the West: Treasure Vase of the Great Dao

Arthur, high above, took in everyone's reactions, the corner of his eye flickering with a hint of disappointment. He urgently hoped for a formidable opponent to test the progress he had made in recent times, but unfortunately, no one dared to make a move.

Arthur's appearance greatly boosted the confidence of the people in his territory, stabilizing those who were once panicked. Thus, life in the domain resumed as usual, unaffected by the warrant for his arrest.

For several consecutive days, all was calm, so much so that Arthur himself began to doubt whether the enemy was merely using smoke bombs. After all, being a descendant of the gods of shadow and conspiracy, his ability to devise plots far exceeded that of ordinary people, and without revealing their true intentions, it was impossible for most to fathom their thoughts.

One night, seven days later, under a sky of sparse moonlight and stars with a gentle breeze, Arthur, as usual, stood at the highest point of the house. Since childhood, he had this habit—as looking at the starry sky from a high place always calmed his restless spirit.

Just then, a maid came with a wine glass and said to Arthur, "Lord, Steward Frey sends you a glass of wine."

Arthur turned and sized up the maid, noting her charming appearance and graceful, yet not frail, figure. He could feel the formidable power hidden within her seemingly delicate body, a state only achievable through extensive training.

Picking up the maid's wine glass, a faint Holy Light flashed in Arthur's eyes, and in his special state, he quickly spotted the black impurities hidden in the wine.

A slight smile curled at the corner of Arthur's mouth. The enemy probably did not expect that his body had become immune to all poisons, unless it was a Poison capable of bringing down Divine Spirit, otherwise, it was no different from plain water to him.

He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it. The Poison quickly invaded his body, spreading through his blood, but a flash of white Holy Light in his blood instantly vaporized the toxins, turning them into pure energy that nourished his body.

The maid, watching Arthur drink the wine, pulled out a sharp Dagger from beneath her tray, its blade flashing with a green light, clearly a weapon laced with deadly poison.

"Die!" The beauty's face suddenly twisted hideously, her eyes gleaming with greed and bloodlust as she brandished the Dagger towards Arthur's neck.

A strong hand grabbed her wrist, and with that tremendous force came excruciating pain, bone-deep pain, overwhelming the professionally trained Assassin, who could no longer control her emotions and cried out in agony. The Dagger slipped from her grasp, clinking against the ground.

Raising her head, the Assassin saw Arthur's stern, bright eyes. She could hardly believe it—she had clearly seen him drink the poisoned wine, so why was there no reaction? It was a poison strong enough to kill several elephants.

"Your Poison tastes good," Arthur said softly, the words echoing in the Assassin's mind, shattering her perception of her many missions.

"How can there be someone like you in this world!" she exclaimed in panic.

Arthur did not answer her question, nor did he deign to; with a gentle tug, the Assassin fell to the ground, his hand-chop to her neck rendering her unconscious in an instant.

He summoned the guards outside and handed the Assassin over before leaving, making a point to instruct, "Don't mistreat her; we'll need such good labor to help us build our castle in the future."

This woman's assassination attempt seemed to trigger a wave of attempts on Arthur's life within the domain. Over the next few days, Arthur faced dozens of assassinations, but sadly, the Assassins were of little merit and failed to pose any threat; instead, the prison became overcrowded in a short time, much to the jailers' dismay.

"What are they scheming by sending these ignorant fools to their deaths for so long? What's the point?" Arthur asked the Old Monk, puzzled.

"For now, the best strategy is to respond unchangingly to all changes; after all, being a descendant of Divine Spirit surely means they have means unknown to us, and complacency might only lead to our downfall," the Old Monk said softly, not one to handle plots well himself and lacking solutions against those who operated in the shadows.

Arthur nodded slightly, aware that his adversaries were lurking in the dark, planning something that would surely pose a threat once unleashed, though he wondered when the storm would arrive.

However, Arthur did not have to wait long before he faced their real tactics: that night, dozens of assassins infiltrated the town for a suicidal assault on him.

Each of these individuals was well-trained and fearlessly attacked Arthur. Any ordinary person would have been slain upon witnessing such a display, but for Arthur, these attacks were insignificant, and he eradicated the dozens of Assassins.

"What are these people after? Are they just coming here to die?" Arthur, wiping the blood from his hands, muttered to himself in confusion.

Having tested him for so long, they could not be unaware of his strength, and yet they continued sending people to their deaths with an unfathomable purpose.

No sooner had he spoken than the bodies of the dead underwent a sinister transformation. Black shadows slowly emerged from their corpses, eventually enveloping Arthur and forming a space made entirely of shadows.