Purgatory Artist
Chapter 550: The Death of Aland

Chapter 550: The Death of Aland

Aland swung his sword in a seamless, impenetrable defense.

The four professionals darted around, trying to bypass him to attack Liu Ping, but none could break through his guard.

"Still got some skill, huh?" Shen the Viper remarked from the sidelines, sounding almost impressed.

"Shen! Attacking my team without cause—I’ll report this to Expeditionary Command!" Arland roared.

"You’ve been underperforming for ages. You think Command gives a damn about this?" Shen sneered.

Slowly, deliberately, he drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it to his bowstring.

The bow creaked as he drew it taut.

He took aim—

At Liu Ping.

Whoosh—

The arrow loosed.

"You bastard!"

Aland bellowed, forcing two attackers back with a sweep of his blade before lunging to intercept the arrow.

But it was already too close.

His sword was extended, its edge gleaming as it drove off the other two professionists—

If he wanted to shield Liu Ping now, there was only one way.

In that split second, countless thoughts flashed through Aland’s mind.

Then he gritted his teeth—

And hurled himself headfirst toward the arrow.

Just one arrow.

And I’m wearing a dragon’s helm!

Blood sprayed.

A crisp metallic clang rang out belatedly.

The green dragon helmet went spinning through the air before clattering to the ground.

Shen blinked in surprise.

"That shot was a disarming technique—meant to knock weapons away. Never thought you’d throw your head at it."

Blood streamed down Aland’s face. The arrow had grazed his scalp, missing by a hair’s breadth.

But right now—

The wound wasn’t the real issue.

He turned to look at Liu Ping, who sat cross-legged, still seemingly asleep.

Then Liu Ping’s eyes opened.

He grinned.

"Not bad. Thanks for that."

Aland’s mind raced, replaying everything that had just happened.

From a distance, Shen called out:

"Hey, kid—the cultivator. What’s Aland paying you? Switch to my side, I’ll double it."

Liu Ping said nothing. He just kept smiling, watching Aland.

Aland slowly turned his gaze to the fallen green helmet.

"This thing... never protected me once."

He pressed a hand to his bleeding head, murmuring in confusion.

What just happened?

I was following Liu Ping’s orders.

I stood guard over him all night.

Why?

Is he some kind of illusionist?

No—he’s a cultivator!

Bewilderment clouded Arland’s thoughts.

"Aland!" Liu Ping called.

"What?" Aland snapped, instantly wary.

Liu Ping stood. "Forget the wound for now. We’ve got challengers—hey, trash over there! Listen up. I ride with Aland’s crew. Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

Having quickly scanned the Expeditionary Army’s interface messages, Liu Ping had grasped the situation. He threw Aland a reassuring line before immediately taunting Shen.

"Fine. If you won’t take the easy way—drag him here!" Shen barked.

Without the dragon helmet’s influence, Aland felt no compulsion to obey Liu Ping. He stepped back, ready to watch coldly as Shen’s men seized and tortured the kid.

Perfect chance to see what cards he’s holding.

But then—

All four attackers suddenly turned on him, unleashing lethal techniques.

"You’re seriously trying to kill me?!"

Aland’s face paled.

He twisted, lunging through the only gap in their encirclement—

Then searing pain exploded in his chest.

His vision swam.

The four attackers... weren’t there.

They hadn’t surrounded him at all!

Instead, he’d just charged headlong—

Directly into the path of a trident thrust.

And then, inexplicably, he’d kept moving, placing himself squarely in front of a spiraling fireball.

He’d taken two fatal blows—

For Liu Ping.

Silence fell.

Even the two attackers looked stunned.

Those strikes had been meant to intimidate, with power dialed back at the last instant. A little roughhousing was one thing—Command might overlook it.

But an actual death?

That changed everything.

Yet before they could pull their punches, Aland had thrown himself into the attacks.

He’d intercepted both.

"I... am a Sword Saint..."

Aland exhaled, collapsing into a pool of blood.

One wound through the chest.

One through the throat.

No saving him now.

A single thought echoed in every mind present:

We’re screwed.

This was a Sword Saint.

And he’d just died in the most pointless, absurd way imaginable.

Shen hurled his bow aside with a furious curse.

"Aland, you lunatic! You’ve ruined us!"

But Aland’s corpse lay motionless, beyond hearing.

Lines of text flickered in the air:

[ALERT]

[Second Vanguard Team has killed First Vanguard Captain Aland. Incident verified. This constitutes a severe breach of protocol. Second Team is recalled immediately for disciplinary review.]

The Second Team stood frozen, struggling to comprehend.

Liu Ping sighed.

"Life’s just full of disappointments, isn’t it?"

"I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean to kill him!" The trident-wielder trembled violently.

A Sword Saint—

A top-tier asset to the entire Expeditionary Army—

And he’d been the one to land the killing blow.

Shen’s head snapped toward Liu Ping.

Something about Aland’s actions nagged at him.

Even to save someone, no one dove onto a weapon like that.

"He died protecting you," Shen said slowly.

"Yeah. But do you know why he did?" Liu Ping countered.

"Why?"

"Because I’m about to break through. Once I do, as my sponsor, he’d have earned major merit points. Pity you all ruined that."

Shen studied Liu Ping intently.

Liu Ping turned and walked toward the wilderness.

Dark clouds churned overhead.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

The signs were unmistakable—

This cultivator was on the verge of a tribulation.

Success would mean ascending to the next major realm, with power to match.

Shen’s eyes narrowed. Against his will, the explanation made sense.

Aland helping someone out of altruism? Never.

But for merit points?

That tracked.

Damn it.

And if the logic held, it only made his team’s actions look worse.

Shen’s expression darkened.

Beams of light streaked down from the sky, engulfing the Second Team and whisking them away.

From arrival to departure—barely an hour.

They’d come swaggering in, wrecking the camp, ready to torture prisoners.

They left shaken, dreading a court-martial.

Only Liu Ping remained in the wilderness.

No—

Not quite alone.

The air rippled as Dalia materialized before him.

"Now that I know my fate... thank you. For saving me," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"What’s your plan now?" Liu Ping asked.

"All my training, my entire life’s work—just to become someone’s fruit? I want vengeance."

"Every technique you know comes from their playbook. No matter how you train, you’ll never surpass them."

"You rescued me from that. You must have a way."

"Go to my realm. Accumulate merit. When you’ve earned enough, return—I’ll create techniques not in their settings."

"And your price? After all you’ve done, what do you want?"

"The techniques I craft for you will be added to my Martial Scripture, taught to all close-combat mages. Agreed?"

"Yes. I want allies—an army to destroy those who’d consume us!"

"Then it’s settled. Rabbit."

The rabbit popped up, snapping its fuzzy fingers.

"Execute: Ultra-Cute Spirit Lord’s Deadly Summons~" it chirped.

A bird-like spirit materialized.

"Escort this formidable lady to the upper reaches of the Eternal Night Pillar—to Liu Ping’s domain. Understood?"

"At your service, Spirit Lord!" the bird replied.

It dissolved into light, enveloping Dalia.

"I’ll go earn that merit. Quickly," she said.

"Do. The Nightmare Tide comes soon. When it does, we fight—with no time left to grow stronger."

Light flared.

She was gone.

Alone again, Liu Ping murmured:

"Close-combat mages..."

Originally, he couldn’t freely use others’ signature moves.

But incorporated into the Martial Scripture?

They’d become his techniques.

And since he’d already mastered their fundamentals—

As Dalia grew stronger, so would he.

Lines of fiery text blazed across his vision:

[FINAL COUNTDOWN]

[Your Heavenly Tribulation begins in— 5

[4]

[3]

[ 2]

[1]

BOOM—

Lightning split the eternal night, hurtling down toward Liu Ping with apocalyptic fury.