Chapter 259: Illusions
"It was actually just a coincidence that I ran into you." As a true Northerner who knew when to yield, Richie Burke spilled everything under Zhou Ning's oppressive presence—his purpose and his mission. His captain, Sidney, was the son of "Storm" Wilt and "Overalls" Jaquin. While searching for the legendary grand treasure, Sidney had lost control. Richie came here to search for a hoard of treasure that his captain claimed had been left behind by his parents.
And of course, if he had to suffer, he had to make sure his enemies suffered more. Richie Burke also revealed another potential pursuer—Aaron Ingersoll—in painstaking detail.
In his view, even if his captain somehow survived, he would never stand a chance against this beast of a man before him. As for Aaron, merely a first mate, he was even less of a threat.
The thought made Richie Burke feel much lighter at heart, and he sincerely hoped Aaron would walk right into the trap.
"There's such a thing?"
Zhou Ning was genuinely surprised. When John had told him stories about "Storm" Wilt, he had never imagined he was this close to the legend. According to Richie Burke, the treasure was from when "Storm" Wilt plundered a massive Lavender merchant ship and brought the loot into the swamp—goods worth some 800,000 Lavender gold coins, roughly 650,000 Vecktas.
The treasure was said to be hidden in a cave deep within the swamp, southeast by south.
650,000 Vecktas! That was 650,000 Vecktas! As for the so-called rival Richie mentioned, what was that in the face of 650,000 Veckta? Even if the Grim Reaper himself came, Zhou Ning would blow him to pieces.
His heart raced, his hands trembled. Zhou Ning turned toward Richie Burke, smiling warmly. "Good. From now on, you and your companions are my prisoners. Of course, you can refuse or try to escape. Let's see if I'll show you any mercy."
Richie Burke desperately wanted to say no, but under that overwhelming pressure, the words died in his throat. Hanging his head, he answered gloomily, "Alright, as you wish. But I demand a share. If not, you might as well kill me now."
Zhou Ning considered it. The demand wasn't unreasonable. After a brief silence, he said, "Fair enough. You can take twenty percent."
"Thirty, or kill me now." Bargaining at last! Richie straightened his back, seizing the chance.
Without another word, Zhou Ning raised the ebony gun, aimed it at Richie Burke, and clicked the safety off.
"No—twenty, twenty is fine!" The sweat instantly streamed down Richie's forehead. He raised his hands, forcing a dry laugh.
This bastard might be ruthless, but at least he wasn't unreasonable. Twenty percent was better than nothing.
When it came to life-or-death choices, Northerners never needed help deciding. The rest of his crew followed suit, swallowing their pride to survive.
Richie Burke's group numbered seventeen in all, tall and brawny, stronger than Zhou Ning expected. They weren't just well-armed; among them were even a fire mage and a meteorologist. To be honest, if it came to a fight, Zhou Ning would have had to spend real effort.
With the Northern pirates forced into the party, the journey became far easier. Minor monsters didn't even require Zhou Ning to lift a finger—his new companions swarmed and tore them apart. Compared to the players at his side, who could only chip away from afar while shouting "666," the difference was heaven and earth. They were so useful that Zhou Ning almost felt reluctant to let them go.
As they pressed deeper into the swamp, the fog grew thicker, visibility dropping. Water pooled more and more, forcing them to wade. Zhou Ning's boots were already damp at the soles.
Suddenly, the neigh of a warhorse and the clatter of hooves echoed in the mist. When Zhou Ning looked over, he saw indistinct visions forming within the fog.
It was an ancient battlefield. On one side stood elves with long ears, pale skin, and blue or green markings painted across their faces. At their head, an elf clad in golden armor, wearing a crown, raised a staff high and chanted in a tongue Zhou Ning could not understand. On the other side were humans, and behind them a figure shrouded in blinding light—its form impossible to discern. The clash of blades, the roar of thunder, all resounded faintly, like an echo of the past, unreal and haunting.
Just then, Molly's cold voice cut in urgently: "Lower your head, don't look over there!"
He didn't know why, but Zhou Ning had always been quick to heed good advice. Instinctively, he lowered his head and stared at his boots, then shouted a warning to the others.
Moments later, a breeze swept through, and the ancient vision dissolved into the fog.
Glancing sideways, Zhou Ning noticed that one Northern pirate standing close by had silently vanished—gone as if he had never existed.
"I didn't expect the swamp to really hold such phenomena." Molly exhaled deeply, explaining, "Hundreds of years ago—oh, in your reckoning, over a thousand—this was high elf territory. Elf King Alfred led his arcane legion to conquer the Black Iron Dwarves, forcing them to forge countless transcendent weapons. That gave him the confidence to wage war against humanity. And he nearly succeeded. His arcane legion won battle after battle, hanging every human they captured. But in the end, the gods themselves intervened. He failed, and the kingdom he built vanished from history. Most elves retreated to the Misty Sea and the Forbidden Sea islands."
"According to the records, that illusion was conjured by Elf King Alfred himself, born of his overwhelming unwillingness. It was his final defeat, replayed as a mirage. It rarely appears, but anyone who dares to look straight at it will be absorbed into it."
That illusion… it reminded Zhou Ning of his own Stand ability. The elven ruins pirates once explored out at sea must have been remnants of that kingdom. Without Molly's warning, they might have been wiped out just now… The Apocalypse World was truly strange. Zhou Ning shivered, shaken, and sighed aloud.
Facing the group's puzzled looks, Zhou Ning repeated Molly's tale. The players, always fascinated by in-game lore, listened in awe.
The next stretch of the journey passed peacefully. No boss monsters appeared, though they gathered plenty of Life Cores—enough for Zhou Ning to report back to Mr. Turing.
The compass needle still pointed southeast, though it had begun to waver. Anyone used to compasses knew what that meant—the target was near.
As they pressed on, Zhou Ning saw not only flora brimming with life energy and trees with long-legged roots, but also giant lizards spitting venom and clouds of writhing black mist—swarms of poisonous insects dense enough to make anyone with trypophobia faint.