Chapter Eighteen: Don't Call Me Little Qu

Compared to our last visit to the mine to excavate quartz jade, the place was far livelier this time. From the very entrance, both sides of the cavern were crowded with miners hard at work. Men and women, humans and dwarves, warriors and mages alike—every chunk of ore was attended by a diligent figure wielding a pickaxe. The sharp clanging of metal striking stone echoed throughout, weaving a proud melody of laborers and painting a scene of mass production and feverish steel-making.

The bats and wild dogs that used to harass me at the entrance had all but disappeared. Occasionally, a half-starved bat would flutter out from the depths, but before it could launch an attack, it was impatiently knocked aside by miners momentarily without ore to dig, searching for new veins.

“You said there wouldn’t be many people here,” Niu Million grumbled, looking around with disappointment.

“I... I don’t know either... Last time I came, there really wasn’t a single soul here.” I was equally taken aback by the bustling scene.

“Since we’re already here, let’s head in. Maybe there’ll be fewer people deeper inside.” The gnome bard, named Nocturne in B-flat Minor, though visibly let down, showed little displeasure and instead consoled Niu Million with cheerful pragmatism, “...At times like these, every place is crowded.”

Just as Nocturne in B-flat Minor predicted, the further we ventured, the more the ore along the cave walls changed. The dull-colored stone grew scarce, replaced by precious minerals radiating strange, luminous hues. Not only did the quality of the ore improve, but the bats lurking in the cave grew larger and fiercer; only a few skilled miners dared excavate in these depths.

By the time we rounded the ninth bend deep within the cave, miners were all but gone, and the only obstacles before us were level eight and nine “Vampire Bats.”

These winged vampires were formidable foes: their massive bodies, fur tinged red from drinking countless beasts’ blood. Compared to the bats at the entrance, Vampire Bats possessed greater strength and speed, capable not only of draining life but also emitting a piercing, discordant sound that left one dizzy and feeble, making it difficult to fight at full force.

“Help! I’m surrounded again!” Niu Million’s performance was as abysmal as ever; the grotesque, terrifying bats clearly rattled him. Each time these monstrous beasts appeared, the minotaur warrior shrieked like a hysterical woman. Yet while his words did little to inspire confidence, his actions told a different story:

A massive tree stump spun fiercely in his hands, like an unstoppable whirlwind. The Vampire Bats struck wailed miserably, sent flying with blood spraying in arcs; the stump crushed all who dared block his path, turning them to pulp. For these bloodthirsty beasts, the misery of their fellows didn’t frighten them—they screeched and lunged, biting with sharp teeth and battering with huge wings, using the most savage methods to halt Niu Million’s advance, but it was all futile. The Niu Million before me now was nothing like the clumsy brute I once knew; his destructive power left me dumbfounded.

“Help? Surely you jest. Such a fierce warrior could sweep the entire cave single-handedly, exterminating every last bat. If anyone needs saving, it’s his enemies.”

“Niu Million, how did you get so powerful?” I asked in shock after witnessing him hurl a bat aside with brutal force.

“It’s all thanks to you...” He smashed another bat to the ground, then turned to me, “...Ever since I wore that magic crystal, my attack speed has soared, and my accuracy’s improved a lot. If you hadn’t given it to me, I’d still be struggling with level five and six beasts. Oh my goodness...” As he spoke, another Vampire Bat darted out from the side. Niu Million shrieked in terror, yet effortlessly knocked it down.

They say there’s no “strongest equipment,” only the “right equipment,” and Niu Million embodied this perfectly. The same agility-boosting magic crystal would have scarcely helped me; and if equipped by the elven ranger Lyric Elegance, with his lightning-fast shots and atrocious aim, its effect would be negligible.

But on Niu Million, it was as if he’d been reborn. Previously, his slow speed severely limited his combat power, his immense brute strength wasted without a target; now, his strength found purpose, and his movements lost their former clumsiness.

In battle, often only the smallest changes separate the powerful from the weak.

Now, a mere ten percent increase in attack speed had transformed Niu Million from a second-rate warrior fleeing in panic into a champion capable of standing against a horde of ferocious beasts.

“If I’d known how useful this was, I never should have given it to you.” I stabbed a bat’s wing with my sword, then said to Niu Million in a half-joking, half-sour tone.

“Don’t even think about getting it back!” Niu Million immediately sidled away, clutching the crystal to his chest with his left hand, feigning a pitiful look.

“Don’t make that long-faced, resentful expression—look at all those lice in your shaggy hair, I’m not interested in anything you’ve rubbed up against.” Taking advantage of a pause in the battle, I kicked Niu Million’s rear in indignation.

“Long hair? What’s wrong with long hair? It’s sexy!” Niu Million glared in protest at my remark about his appearance, puffing up with conviction. “Haven’t you heard? Real men are hairy, real women are plump.”

I was left speechless, my mind conjuring the image of a minotaur “beauty”—voluptuous, ample-breasted, thick-waisted like a barrel, covered in black and white patches.

Perhaps this was the minotaur’s unique aesthetic...

Despite the ferocity of the Vampire Bats, they posed little real threat to us; the battle was thrilling but never truly perilous. Niu Million’s astonishing performance made things much easier, but my new weapon, acquired from the Sabertooth Bandits, was also soaked in blood.

This was my first time wielding the “Sabertooth Ripper” in combat. Compared to my previous standard longsword, it was lighter, sharper, and more resilient. It sliced effortlessly through the bats’ tough hides, plunging deep into their soft bodies, dancing between bone and muscle, inflicting great damage. But what I liked most was the feeling of pulling it out: the blade’s serrated edges scraping against flesh, the exquisite sensation coursing through the hilt into my palm, intoxicating as running my hands over a summer shoreline.

It was a dangerous temptation—one that made you love the feeling of slaughter.

The “Sabertooth Ripper” made fighting easier. As serrated teeth tore through flesh, minor wounds became hideous gashes. Crimson blood pulsed from the unhealing wounds; even if I stopped attacking, the bats continued to lose life. The continuous damage from the torn wounds often surpassed a direct thrust, and more than once, before I could strike again, these filthy creatures bled out and collapsed.

...

At some point along the tunnel, we seemed to cross an invisible threshold, entering the deeper reaches of the mine. The bats attacking us were still Vampire Bats, but now most were level ten and above, and their numbers swelled. Their bites and shrieks grew more powerful.

The change in foes made our battle tougher. I relied more on my shield, no longer recklessly hacking away. The bats’ frantic attacks put unprecedented pressure on me, and Niu Million began quaffing his plentiful health potions.

“Minor, don’t just stand there—lend us a hand!” Amid the chaos, a bat pounced on Niu Million from the left, biting his arm. He cried out, finally shook it off, then turned and shouted at the gnome bard, Nocturne in B-flat Minor.

“Don’t call me Minor!” The bard took offense at Niu Million’s casual nickname, protesting sharply.

“Well, your name’s so awkward. What should I call you then? Maybe B-flat?”

“...”

“...Just call me Minor, I suppose...” After a moment of speechlessness, Nocturne in B-flat Minor resigned himself to the abbreviated name.

Bards are a unique breed: hopeless romantics, elegant warriors who fight with music, battlefield musicians who inspire hearts with song. Though adept with daggers and shortswords, their greatest power lies in stirring souls with battle songs and dances, strengthening allies or weakening foes.

Just as warriors rely on fighting spirit and mages on mana, bards draw their power from “musical intuition.” This comes from deep within, reflecting their understanding and sensitivity to art, shaping the effect and duration of their battle songs.

Despite the banter, Nocturne in B-flat Minor realized that swordplay alone offered little aid. So, while still brandishing his blade, he began to sing a rousing battle song.

Under the song’s inspiration, a surge of passionate energy rose within me. I felt a palpable strength swelling through my arms and body, banishing fatigue and giving birth to valor. With every heartbeat, it seemed that what pulsed from my heart was no longer blood, but pure power and courage—a burning desire to vanquish my enemies.

It was a wondrous thing: a good song could directly affect the soul, spark strength, and ignite courage. Perhaps this was the power of art—its value reaching far beyond the song itself, planting a spiritual seed deep within.

I still remember that stirring melody, solemn and majestic, filled with indescribable grandeur:

“...Little cabbage... leaves turning yellow... Just two or three years old... and already lost her mother...”

“Pfft...” At the sound of that song, Niu Million nearly choked, spraying half a bottle of health potion before he could swallow. Coughing violently, he gestured angrily at the bard:

“...Casting the Mighty Battle Song with that tune—you’re truly a master of dark humor!”

He was met with a mischievous grin.

In Nocturne’s quirky, melodic song, the negative effects of the bats’ screeches were reduced to nearly nothing. Their howls became mere noise—irritating but powerless.

“Attack!” I swung my sword with ease, and a vivid crimson glow marked “-55” above a bat’s head. Normally, even when using skills, I’d never dealt such a heavy blow in a single strike. The unfortunate bat vanished without a cry, dissolving into white light and merging with my being.

Not only had my damage increased, but my attack speed had also risen. My sword flashed, creating a curtain of blood-red brilliance, the blade slicing through air with a deadly hiss, sending one bat after another to their doom.

Niu Million was equally unstoppable. His massive club thundered against the ground, sounding like a relentless war drum. Against such swift and mighty blows, no bat lasted more than five seconds before him.

Even the bard, while bolstering us with song, was dealing his own damage with his shortsword. His small stature allowed him to strike low as bats swooped down, and with me and Niu Million shielding him, not a single bat could fly low enough to threaten him.

Advancing steadily, we soon traversed the entire tunnel and arrived at a spacious hall. The chamber was thirty paces square—I could hardly imagine the effort required to carve such a vast room so deep underground. More astonishing, at the center, occupying nearly half the diameter, was a large vertical pit. Wooden walkways spiraled down along the pit’s walls, suspended for passage.

Peering into the pit, I saw only darkness. A plume of black mist seemed to billow outward; I couldn't tell if it was real, or if the abyssal gloom was playing tricks on my eyes.

Where could this pit lead?

Could it be... the legendary entrance to hell?