Game’s Dogma - Chapter 331: Sword of Man

The name “Tripurity” was derived from the three “purities” of ancient Taoism, namely heaven, earth, and man.

Taoist as a hidden class came with a secret cultivation style, True Chi of Three Purities. Tripurity came up with his player ID only because he thought it had a nice ring to it; such was fate, for he received an encounter quest befitting of his name and changed his class to Taoist.

The same could be said for Zephyrwolf. Fate worked in miraculous ways that no one could comprehend.

Tripurity had fallen from his high horse after his battle with Danting, and his battle with Mask marked his enlightenment. Not in a philosophical sense, but rather the key to combat. Becoming a Taoist was the pathway to cultivation. In the way of Tao they placed their beliefs, but it was the way of the sword which they honed.

This thrust embodied all of Tripurity. He circulated True Chi of Three Purities within him, used the Taoist skill Sword of Three Purities, and put everything into motion with his self-found technique of thrusting.

The way of man was to embrace justice and benevolence; such were the ideals of Tao. As the manifestation of all he and Tao stood for, Tripurity’s thrust was the Sword of Man.

Musashi’s feral grin beamed wider at the sight of Tripurity’s Sword of Man. His green eyes were almost burning like the ghastly flames of hell. He never expected to encounter such a powerful opponent, such a powerful thrust here on this battlefield.

It was a thrust that deserved his full strength.

Musashi entered a weird stance. With one sword aimed upwards to pierce the heavens and the other pointed towards the depths of hell beneath the ground, he slowly spun his hands. Skyward became downwards and vice versa—such was the cycle of karma.

Niten Ichi-ryu, Avici Naraka!

[Note: Avici Naraka is the lowest level of the hell realm in Buddhism.]

Tripurity’s sword dashed forwards smoothly until it finally encountered resistance. The clash of swords reverberated across the area, but Musashi’s swords were nowhere to be seen while he simply maintained that weird posture.

Everyone, be it players from the East or West, vacated the area, creating a fifty-metre wide no man’s land. They felt an instinctive urge to flee, one that reminded them of danger.

The two silhouettes overlapped momentarily.

After two final clangs, Musashi sheathed his swords and turned around. He looked at the ID of his enemy just before the person turned into a flash of white.

Tripurity, I will remember this name.

Musashi knew he had gotten off the hook with an advantage in levels. As one of the top players who had reached Level 45, he also wore a Level 35 set from the Arena. It was the best obtainable set of armour in the game before Level 40 items were circulated into the market through the Warring Wastelands. If not for his superior level and equipment, he wasn’t confident that he could effectively deal with Tripurity’s thrust.

While Musashi and Tripurity were crossing swords, the West was busy coping with an unexpected intruder.

“Dammit! A single person charging at an army? Who does he think he is? Take him out!”

Shouts and cries rang through the West’s ranks as they threw all sorts of skills at him. However, the person slipped left and right like a misty dragon and was mostly unscathed.

That person was none other than Drako Yau.

Drako Yau certainly came short of Hibiscus when comparing their kill tally. Flower Plucking Finger could easily kill a player with each shot, but its crowd control effect was far inferior to Drako Yau’s skills which were tailored towards group battles.

Decent area of effect, high damage, and all sorts of negative ailments; Drako Yau was drilling a hole in the enemy lines with his set of skills. The Feral Rage set he currently wore was one of the best sets in the game, while his Level 30 epic spear had attack that rivalled Level 40 rare counterparts. Empyreal Dragon Step, Wandering, Agility Scrolls, and his plethora of furniture further boosted his survivability on the chaotic battlefield.

Most important was the legendary equipment he received from Oda Nobunaga: Devil King’s Cloak. Its passive skill reduced all damage received from behind by thirty per cent. Whenever an attack could not be evaded, he’d turn around and let it strike his back while chugging down a bottle of potion.

Sometimes he’d cast a skill among the crowd. Then he’d charge into the line of mages and pop off Smokescreen Scrolls to blind them temporarily. His only duty was to disrupt the enemy formation; he knew that the master tactician would come up with something once he created an opening.

Formations were particularly crucial for the defending army. A standard formation consisted of warriors and paladins on the frontlines, rangers and mages providing ranged bombardment from behind, and clerics and other support classes applying heals and buffs at the very rear. Once the formation was broken, the low HP classes would be exposed and the entire formation would fail to function.

“Familiar yet cannot be befriended, wary yet cannot be considered an enemy” summed up Chau Yu’s relationship with Drako Yau. Excluding Drako Yau’s close companions like Greenstone and Zephyrwolf, he was the one who knew Drako Yau best because he investigated and learnt about the man as his rival.

Once he realised Drako Yau’s true intention, he wasn’t going to let the chance slip. He commanded the army with his feather fan. Like floodwater surging through a gap in a dam, the Eastern army charged into the opening Drako Yau had created.

As Musashi had said before the battle, the outcome was set before it even began, with the only difference being how great the victory was. A Pyrrhic victory and a decisive victory were only a word apart, yet what they entailed were heaven and hell.

The Eastern players ravaged the West’s formation after breaking through the initial opening. Those from the West tried to bring down as many enemies as possible, but their attempts were futile.

This was what a truly decisive victory looked like.

Although the Western players were well aware that they had signed up for their deaths as cannon fodder by staying behind, emotions of rage and torment still eroded their minds.

The game had been out for a year, and there was naturally a distinction between new players and veterans. The older generation of the West had experienced the era before Olympus. Back then, factions and forces divided the cities just like in the East. No one was willing to bend to another, for being dominated by others was a shameful display.

But the West was eventually united. It happened over a single battle, a City War to be exact. It was the final stand of players who rejected the authoritative rule of Olympus.

The scene before their eyes reminded them of the last City War back in the days—a single man tore through their lines. One was shrouded in wind and lightning, while the other radiated flashes of chilliness and flames. The two silhouettes gradually overlapped into one.

They lost.

Fong Sai Yuk fought more fervently as the battle went on. Six Solar Palms of Mount Heaven was undoubtedly strong, but so were his Pugilist skills. The key to becoming better in combat wasn’t to give up on the weaker skillset, but rather to incorporate both into his unique style.

He knew all Pugilist skills on the back of his hand. However, he felt somewhat distant from the Six Solar Palms of Mount Heaven, perhaps because he had only been practising it not too long ago.

And now, the rare opportunity of fighting a short-range melee fighter of similar strength showed up. He decided to think of it as a sparring session where he practised and tried out new combinations. With that in mind, he felt his comprehension of the newly obtained inheritance deepen.