Chapter Seven: The Boar’s Spring Cry

The principle of "realism" that Dynasty adheres to extends to the world’s culture, geography, geomancy, monsters, items, and customs. Everything, in both appearance and substance, draws upon the logic of reality; thus, one would expect that Sword Without Words wouldn’t be unfamiliar with the habits of wild boars.

Wild boars are known for their ferocity, brute animal strength, and their headlong, unstoppable assaults. A fierce wild boar can sometimes intimidate even hungry wolves. Therefore, the boar-headed boss in Dynasty boasts a thick hide, high defense, copious health, and immense strength. Anyone with a bit of agility and inner strength can dispatch it with skill.

When the Wild Boar King charged with a roar, the ground itself trembled slightly. Sword Without Words, of course, didn’t take it head-on; twisting aside, he struck the boar king’s belly with his red energy bubble palm. The resulting damage dropped to "—51," yet the boar king’s momentum was unhindered as it crashed into a tree, showering the earth in golden maple leaves.

It was a momentary lull. Out of the corner of his eye, Sword Without Words noticed Zhang He’s nervous expression—he was desperately scrambling up an especially thick pine.

Sword Without Words felt a flash of contempt. For all his earlier show of composure, Zhang He was plainly afraid of death. A novice is a novice—never having faced any real danger.

But the thought passed in an instant. The Wild Boar King, having failed its first charge, would now enter a berserk state for its second assault, greatly increasing its speed and strength.

Zhang He saw clearly this time: Sword Without Words’ short sword gleamed with an eerie, prominent blue light, like green flames flickering in hell. Unfortunately, Zhang He couldn’t identify the technique. He racked his memory for official notes and forum guides, but was certain he’d never seen it. One thing, however, was plain—the sinister blue glow was decidedly unorthodox, likely a forbidden martial art.

As the Wild Boar King roared and charged for the second time, its speed and might indeed surged, hurtling toward Sword Without Words like a rolling boulder.

This time, Sword Without Words met the charge head-on. He thrust his red energy bubble palm at the beast’s face. What startled Zhang He was that the energy bubble didn’t explode immediately but seemed to adhere to the boar’s head like a sponge. As the boar powered forward, the football-sized bubble shrank rapidly, and both the bubble and Sword Without Words himself were shoved backward.

But in that brief moment, the sword wreathed in icy blue light stabbed the boar’s head several times in a flash. A cascade of "—81" red damage numbers appeared. The swordplay was so swift Zhang He couldn’t follow it—not that he could be blamed, since his level was still far too low.

As the bubble vanished, Sword Without Words darted aside. Despite his deft control, it was impossible to escape unscathed from such a frenzied attack. The boar’s head clipped his thigh, sending him rolling across the ground, a "—131" damage number blooming above his head.

Only now did Zhang He realize just how formidable this man’s mysterious martial art was; it must have boosted his agility, strength, and combo skills.

In that moment, Zhang He’s mind raced, making a bold and precise calculation: four rounds—at most four—and the Wild Boar King would be ruthlessly slaughtered by Sword Without Words, who was even now using pills to restore his constitution.

Sword Without Words remained unruffled, methodically repeating his tactics as the boar king again slammed into a tree.

Just then, Sword Without Words heard pig noises again—but this time, it wasn’t the Wild Boar King’s guttural, savage squeal, but a soft, almost gentle grunt:

“Oink, oink-oink, oink-oink!”

Sword Without Words looked up in astonishment, nearly coughing up blood at the sight.

Perched in the tree, Zhang He was pinching his nose and imitating pig calls with uncanny accuracy—it was so lifelike it was almost indistinguishable from a real pig. He could hardly believe a player could mimic a pig so perfectly. Stranger still, the sound resembled a sow in heat.

Sword Without Words was momentarily transfixed by Zhang He’s bizarre talent, unaware he was falling into an elaborate and deadly trap.

After Sword Without Words deftly deflected the Wild Boar King’s third attack, a thunderous crash erupted from the boar’s den. The entrance collapsed, and a yellow-maned Wild Boar King, as large as a tiger, emerged. Its sharp eyes glared at him, nostrils flaring so loudly the whole forest could hear.

A chill ran through Sword Without Words. There was no doubt—this was a savage-class Wild Boar King.

He instinctively looked up. Zhang He, perched in the tree, was now composed and resolute, as cold and unyielding as ice.

An indescribable fury and dread surged through Sword Without Words—he finally realized the trap he’d fallen into.

His opponent had read his every move, used pills to gain his fleeting trust, then lured him to the boss’s lair, knowing a second-class player would tire of killing minions, and finally brought forth an even higher-level boss to finish him off.

Such ploys weren’t unheard of in Dynasty, but to execute them convincingly required a ruthless, precise insight—players with such abilities were exceedingly rare. Of course, being intimately familiar with every inch of Azure Peak was also a crucial prerequisite for success.

Sword Without Words felt a nameless fear—for the first time, he realized that in Dynasty, it was human intelligence, not martial prowess, that was truly terrifying. In the martial world, no matter how powerful or inscrutable your adversary, all is fleeting; the most fearsome thing is the human heart.

Zhang He's pig calls hadn’t just been a random outburst—they had lured the snake from its den. By rights, the Savage Boar King’s aggro should have been on Zhang He, but as Sword Without Words was busy slaying the lesser boar king, the aggro had switched to him.

Sword Without Words wasn’t stupid. He knew that facing two bosses of different levels alone left him little chance of survival.

But there was no time for elaborate tactics now. The Savage Boar King was already barreling toward him. Even before it arrived, a nauseating stench filled Sword Without Words’ nostrils, emanating from the boss’s coarse mane. As expected of a savage-class boss, Sword Without Words immediately felt his fatigue, endurance, and agility drop sharply.

His movements, once nimble, became sluggish. The Savage Boar King crashed full force into his waist, sending him spinning through the air. When he hit the ground, Sword Without Words felt as though every bone in his body might shatter. Zhang He exhaled in relief; the blow had scored a yellow “—441” critical hit. Even with restorative items, Sword Without Words was doomed.

At level 46, even with gear and quest points, it was nearly impossible to surpass 500 constitution.

Just moments ago, he’d been dispatching the lesser boar king with ease and mastery, but now the tables had turned—he’d become meat on the chopping block.

The two giant wild boars then butted his back, and Sword Without Words collapsed limply to the ground, unmoving. He felt as though his soul had been torn from his body by unseen hands, leaving only black and white in his world. The slayer is always slain in turn; now it was his turn to experience ghost mode.

He glared venomously at Zhang He in the tree, his gaze brimming with hatred.

Zhang He, perhaps sensing the enmity from Sword Without Words’ ghostly form, looked at the corpse below and sighed quietly, “Don’t trouble yourself over me. You should know that once you’d bought all my pills, you would have killed me too. Don’t deny it; by then, taking me along would have been nothing but a burden.”

He paused, a faint smile in his eyes. “Really, you’ve only yourself to blame for your greed—greed for my ‘Garlic You Ruthless.’ Now you know who truly deserves that name, don’t you?”

Sword Without Words, in ghost mode, nearly exploded with rage. A level 46 second-class player, outwitted by a novice not yet level 20 on Azure Peak! Fortunately, no one had seen it; otherwise, by tomorrow, it would be all over the forums.

Below, the two boar kings battered the tree, trying desperately to shake Zhang He down, but it was futile. Zhang He knew this ancient tree was the only one in the area the boar kings couldn’t topple, and he’d climbed it precisely for this reason—a hard-earned lesson after dying here several times.

Fifteen minutes later, Sword Without Words’ corpse dissolved into a stream of white data, leaving behind a heap of materials and two pieces of equipment—a red and a yellow item—clearly an extraordinary and a rare piece: Sword Without Words’ boots and short sword.

By the system’s rules, he shouldn’t have dropped two items, but the loot rate for a red-named player increases with notoriety and evil points. This was the true value of Zhang He’s elaborate scheme.

“I should be thanking you all!” Zhang He looked down at the two frenzied boars and laughed. “You’re the real brothers here. Oink oink, oink-oink-oink, oink—”

Caught up in the moment, he began imitating pig calls again, and his loyal brothers only rammed the tree more enthusiastically.

Carefully noting the position of the two pieces of equipment below, Zhang He took a deep breath and leapt forward, drifting lightly toward the ground.

Whether he died from the fall or was gored by his “brothers” didn’t matter—he had no intention of leaving the mountain alive anyway. This way, he’d even save on a town-return scroll.

—Brothers, cast your votes! Urgently seeking favorites and recommendations—summon your tickets!