Chương 8: Infiltrating the Stronghold

Beyond the western border of the Xuanyuan Empire, an unbroken chain of towering mountains stretched for thousands of miles, collectively known as the Western Mountain Range. Layer upon layer of massive peaks extended outward, their waists wrapped in drifting mist. Ancient forests covered the slopes, wild and deep, with barely a trace of human presence. Spirit Spring Mountain was a famous peak within this range.

Ancient legends claimed that a miraculous spring lay hidden deep within the mountain, its waters so pure that drinking them could cleanse the body, extend one's lifespan, and even grant the power of rejuvenation. Later, the Queen Mother of the West heard of its wonders and descended upon the Western Mountains herself, taking the spring's source and relocating it to the Kunlun domain, leaving behind only the mountain and its enduring legend.

The mountain rose over two hundred and seventy zhang in height, its two faces starkly different. The sunlit southern slope was lush and vibrant, with towering ancient trees forming a dense canopy, wildflowers carpeting the ground, and birds and beasts thriving in abundance. Their calls and cries echoed through the woods, a scene of vibrant life. The northern slope, however, was perpetually shadowed, its wild grasses growing waist-high in the cold, damp gloom.

The humid environment was ideal for snakes, and countless serpents coiled within the darkness, lending the area a chilling, oppressive air. The peak of Spirit Spring Mountain was unusual. The entire summit had been flattened into a broad, open platform, its surface smooth and angular, clearly the work of human hands. The formidable Black Snake stronghold was built upon this easily defensible summit.

From the foot of the mountain to its peak, only a single narrow, winding path existed, barely wide enough for one person to pass in places. It spiraled upward along the mountain's contour, flanked on both sides by steep cliffs. There was no second route. The Black Snake bandits had exploited this natural chokepoint to the fullest, setting up layered defenses starting from the midway point. Ten checkpoints were established along the path, each manned and patrolled in shifts.

Security was so tight that even a fly would struggle to pass unnoticed. Yang Fan made his way through the dense forest at the mountain's base. The trail was rough, covered in dead branches and fallen leaves, with ancient trees blocking out the sky overhead and chilly winds sweeping through the woods. Along the way, he encountered waves of level 5 and 6 wild beasts. His sword flashed again and again, his movements sharp and precise.

Using his newly learned Grass Running technique for mobility, he cut down over a dozen monsters, steadily gaining experience and pushing his level from 5 to 6. He crept to the outer edge of the Black Snake stronghold's first checkpoint, hiding behind a thick tree trunk, his body low and his breath controlled. Through the gaps in the leaves, he observed the mountain path's sentries. After careful reconnaissance, he confirmed that this single path was the only way to reach the summit. There was no alternative route.

Yang Fan frowned slightly, muttering under his breath.

"These bandits are way too cautious. They start setting up defenses from the midway point?" His gaze fell on the checkpoint entrance. Only two bandit sentries were stationed there, their stances relaxed, apparently average fighters. Yang Fan calculated silently: a stealthy approach, followed by a surprise attack, could take them out quietly. But just as he tensed his muscles and prepared to strike, one of the sentries suddenly turned his head, his sharp gaze sweeping toward Yang Fan's hiding spot.

His hand clamped onto his sword hilt as he barked, "Who is skulking behind that tree? Come out now, or I will cut you down!" Yang Fan's heart jolted. This NPC's perception range was far beyond that of ordinary monsters. His ambush plan was a bust. Dropping his hostile intent, he quickly shifted to a different approach, feigning confusion and trying to gather information before making his move.

He straightened up, pushed aside the branches, and stepped out of the forest with a panicked expression, playing the part of a simple hunter.

"Please, do not attack! I am just a hunter who got lost chasing after some game. I have no ill intentions."

"Lost?" One of the sentries scoffed, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He stepped closer, his tone sharp.

"There is only one path up this mountain, straight and clear. How could you possibly get lost? Turn around. We are searching you. You look like a scout sent from Baishi County!" Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Yang Fan sighed inwardly. These NPCs were sharp and not easily fooled. Smooth talk would not work; he would have to find another way.

He continued to stammer denials while slowly edging closer, pretending to comply, but every muscle in his body remained coiled, his hand poised for a sudden strike. However, when he got close enough to see the floating level markers above their heads, he froze in his tracks. Level 10. These two ordinary-looking thugs were actually level 10. Yang Fan's composure shattered. At level 6, with weaker stats and gear, he stood no chance in a direct fight. He would be killed instantly. His mind raced with complaints.

He was certain the magistrate had set him up. This was not a beginner's scouting mission; this was a suicide mission! But then a flash of insight struck him. The magistrate had given him a reconnaissance mission, not an extermination one. The goal was to gather information, not to fight. If he could not beat them, he could join them. Blend into the stronghold, and the information would come naturally. His mindset shifted instantly. The panic on his face faded, replaced by a look of humble respect.

He clasped his hands together and spoke with utmost sincerity.

"With such imposing presence, you two must be the legendary heroes of the Black Snake stronghold!"

"Humph, you know that already." The two sentries remained wary.

"What is your real purpose?" Yang Fan launched into a flurry of flattery.

"I have long heard that the lord of Black Snake stronghold is unmatched in martial prowess, and his men are the most fearsome warriors in the Western Mountains! Now that I see you two in person, I know the tales were not exaggerated. The sheer aura you carry is overwhelming. I felt it from over ten meters away, nearly dropping to my knees in awe!" The barrage of praise hit its mark. The sentries' guarded expressions softened, the tension in their shoulders easing.

Seeing the hostility fade from their faces, Yang Fan finally allowed himself to relax. A wave of quiet triumph washed over him. As expected, a little flattery had done the trick. No wonder the village chief and the magistrate were so fond of this approach. It turned out praise really did work wonders. One of them asked, "You came all this way just to see us? No other purpose?" Yang Fan breathed a silent sigh of relief.

He remained outwardly deferential, but internally, he had already activated his Grass Running technique. With his speed boost ready, he was poised to bolt at the first sign of danger. Now that the hostility had faded, he pressed his advantage.

"I came not only to admire your prowess, but also to join your ranks! I wish to follow you, to stand alongside the heroes of this stronghold!"

"You?" The sentries looked him up and down. His plain attire and unremarkable demeanor drew a sneer.

"The Black Snake stronghold does not take in trash. You do not have the qualifications." Yang Fan was speechless. A mere common mob had just insulted him. He could not afford to lose his temper, though; his infiltration plan was at stake. He quickly weighed his options, and his mind landed on the trump card in his backpack: the Bronze Abyssal Spring Armguard. Its glowing blue quality was far beyond any Gray or Black Iron gear currently available.

He never wore it openly, fearing other players might target him for it, but now it could serve as his ticket in. His expression turned earnest.

"I am not here empty-handed, gentlemen. I carry a family heirloom treasure, which I wish to present to the lord of the stronghold, as proof of my sincerity!" With that, he opened his backpack. A brilliant blue light burst forth, its glow rich and radiant, far surpassing any common equipment. The two level 10 sentries stepped back, eyes widening in shock. One of them seemed about to speak but stopped himself, exchanging a meaningful glance with his companion.

The other sentry nodded in understanding, turned, and sprinted up the mountain path without a word to report the news. Yang Fan knew then that his gamble had paid off. Getting into the stronghold was now all but guaranteed. Once inside, uncovering the collusion with the Mianzhu Rong tribe would be a matter of time. A short while later, the messenger returned. His gaze toward Yang Fan had changed, and his tone was noticeably more respectful.

"Put the treasure away. Do not let anyone else see it. Stay quiet and do not look around. Follow me up the mountain." Yang Fan's heart soared. He stowed the glowing armguard and followed the sentry obediently, head down, as they climbed the winding path toward the summit. As they ascended, he silently thanked his lucky stars he had not attacked impulsively. The stronghold's defenses were far more extensive than he had imagined.

Every hundred meters along the path, a two-man checkpoint stood guard, seamlessly integrated into the terrain. Each sentry carried signal flares at their belts, ready to alert the entire garrison at the first sign of intrusion. If he had started a fight, he would have faced not just two guards, but the full force of the stronghold's hundreds of bandits.