Chapter 383: The Drama Ends
There's no denying it—Light Brain's editing was truly masterful. At this point, it began intercutting several perspectives through clever combinations of camera shots.
With a relatively gentle BGM playing, the first scene showed the top of Darkland Fortress's tower. At the moment Nyastora fell, Emperor Charles VII's expression visibly slipped out of control—he froze for a second, then quickly masked his reaction and continued the ritual as if nothing had happened.
The camera then shifted to another part of Darkland: Count Robbins, looking grim, was hurrying home in his carriage.
Next came Harrison Rivers, Archmage Lirad… after witnessing Nyastora's collapse, each of them was preparing to flee Darkland by whatever means they could.
After swiftly showing the villains' movements through sharp, dynamic cuts, the shot transitioned once again—this time to the southwest side of the trade district, where the young and beautiful Marilyn was walking along the street. Suddenly, a pillar of light descended from the sky, enveloping her completely!
With a flurry of urgent drumbeats, the players could clearly see Marilyn's body begin to swell rapidly. Her clothes tore apart, and on either side of her body sprouted four ethereal spider legs. Around her, countless phantom tendrils writhed and drifted.
An unconscious murmur escaped her lips; her eyes turned completely black, without a trace of white. The corners of her mouth slowly curved upward. Under the pillar's glow, she looked both divine and horrifying—eerily harmonious.
Then, a fierce wind rose around her, propelling her as she crawled toward the trade district plaza—the place where the stench of blood was strongest.
The screen split into three frames: on the left, Marilyn crawled toward the plaza, leaving behind a trail of fallen adventurers who transformed into small spiders; in the center, Zhou Ning lifted his head, glanced at the storm clouds above, then, as if sensing something, turned his gaze toward Marilyn's direction; on the right, the little black book's pages flipped rapidly.
The drums grew faster and faster. As Marilyn drew nearer to Zhou Ning, the left and center frames gradually merged—Zhou Ning looked calmly toward her approaching figure.
The intensity of these shots was overwhelming. Players watched, breathless, their hearts pounding in sync with the drums. Everyone knew the protagonist was powerful, but without summoned creatures, his strength was still far beneath that of a god. Although some had spoiled that Wayne Sturwell would one-punch a weak-looking spider monster, given what they were seeing now, players began to wonder—wasn't that "spider" maybe just one of the small ones?
Only a handful of players who had actually experienced this event firsthand stayed calm. To be honest, they hadn't seen the earlier part either—most players had died while facing Nyastora and were still running back as ghosts. But plenty of people had witnessed Zhou Ning one-punch Marilyn and kill Charles VII afterward.
In the next scene, Marilyn, surrounded by howling wind, charged into the crowd unhindered. Several monks who met her gaze immediately fell, their bodies transforming into swarms of crawling spiders—a terrifying display of divine power.
But when she turned her attack toward Zhou Ning, gliding toward him at breakneck speed, Wayne Sturwell's execution theme, "Gunfire," suddenly began to play. Every player watching let out a sigh of relief—because so far, Wayne Sturwell had never lost a fight with this track playing.
Light Brain then gave a close-up of Zhou Ning's face—completely calm, yet his eyes held a faint trace of anticipation, as though he was looking forward to whatever "surprise" Marilyn might bring.
The footage slowed down here. Players saw Zhou Ning pull his arm back and throw an ordinary-looking punch—tiger-like wind howling from the motion.
Then, as the playback speed snapped back to normal, Marilyn, who had been lunging forward, was blasted backward at many times her previous speed. The before-and-after contrast was so stark it hit like a thunderclap.
Even more absurdly, Marilyn's massive body began to disintegrate midair, turning into ashes scattered by the wind.
Next, the camera panned upward. What had been a thundercloud covering two or three entire cities was completely dispersed by the surging shockwave of that punch, revealing a crystal-clear, star-filled night sky.
For two or three seconds, the screen went blank. Then it was instantly covered with a flood of barrage comments—countless players spamming excitedly:
"Holy crap, what's that punch called? 'Parting the Heavens'?"
"Can't even blame Matalita for this one. Honestly, who could've guessed—"
"Wayne must be cheating! Don't tell me a real Wandering Gunslinger needs both marksmanship and fists of steel? (lol)"
On the left of the frame, Zhou Ning slowly withdrew his fist, maintaining his striking pose. On the right, inside the little dark room, the small black book had gone completely limp. Though it couldn't speak, everyone could imagine a dejected, slumped figure in their minds.
Within its pages, large chunks of text were being deleted line by line. Just as it tried to rally and begin a new plot arc, a hand suddenly closed it shut.
Players watched Count Robbins pick up the book, place it into a box, and, carrying a travel case, board a carriage heading for the steam train station.
The view returned to full screen, locking onto Zhou Ning once more. Accompanied by the stirring execution theme, he turned his gaze toward Darkland Fortress in the distance—toward Charles VII, who stood on its ramparts.
After so much buildup, every viewer's emotions were at a fever pitch. The entire drama had reached its climax. Everyone now fully understood Charles VII's cruelty, selfishness, and ambition—how millions had died miserably because of him.
The screen flickered—Zhou Ning now stood before the gates of Darkland Fortress. Ignoring the two rows of armed Bryston soldiers aiming their flintlocks at him, he threw a single, serious punch.
Boom!
With a deafening roar, the fortress's blue-violet barrier shattered, and half the stronghold was ripped apart by the force of the blow. Players saw Zhou Ning calmly retract his fist and walk past the stunned Bryston soldiers, his expression cold—almost emotionless.
The scene flashed again. Wayne Sturwell's friend John had become an undead, wandering aimlessly. Wayne paused briefly beside him, then quickened his steps up the staircase.
Atop the fortress, Zhou Ning and Charles VII faced each other from afar. After a brief exchange, the shot froze on Zhou Ning as he decisively threw another punch—Charles VII's massive body exploded midair, disintegrating into dust.
The screen went black, then a line of text appeared:
"History will forever remember this day. On December 16, 1452, over six million innocent civilians perished in Darkland City. More than 700 nobles died. On the same day, King Charles VII of Bryston also met his end. This event became known as the Darkland Massacre."
When the scene lit up again, it was inside a solemn courtroom. An elderly judge in robes and a white judicial wig was announcing the verdicts for the Darkland Massacre.
Twenty-one nobles involved were sentenced—some to hanging, others to long imprisonment. The masterminds, Karl Robbins and Harrison Rivers, had already fled.
But the last ruling left players stunned: "Wayne Sturwell, for endangering royal security, is hereby sentenced to exile, to be carried out within three days."
The camera drifted to the last row of the gallery—where a white, half-height silk top hat rested on a desk. A hand lifted it, setting it atop a head. Without a backward glance, the man at the center of the trial—Wayne Sturwell—walked out of the courtroom.
Only his departing back looked slightly lonely.
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