# 477
Chapter 477 – Sword Saint Idol
A month and a half ago, Bragi’s treatment progress had already exceeded fifty percent, giving Lin Qiye a second chance to draw an ability.
Theoretically, the second draw guaranteed a God’s Ruins—like the Darkness God’s Ruins he’d pulled from Nyx or the Illusion Demon God’s Ruins from Merlin. This time, however, he faced two deities’ God’s Ruins at once. He could only rely on luck to randomly receive one of the poetic or youth gods’ powers.
In the end, he drew the youth goddess Idun’s God’s Ruins: Eternal Secret Garden.
Like all God’s Ruins, it bore another name—Secret Burial God’s Ruins.
Of Team 009, only Huang Yuande and Shan Mei had reached the “Sea” realm besides Jiang Liu; the other four were merely “River” realm. Under Lin Qiye’s God’s Ruins, they had no power to resist.
Jiang Liu still fought amid the blooming flowers, but buds kept bursting open across his body. His mental power was nearly exhausted; total burial in this secret garden was only a matter of time.
Seeing his teammates about to lose consciousness, Lin Qiye sighed. The green glimmer at his fingertip faded.
The buds poised to swallow everyone stopped opening, withered rapidly, and the phantom girl floating above the white blossoms waved to Lin Qiye before dissolving into pale light. The lush green lawn retracted beneath his feet, exposing the muddy road once more.
Several thuds followed—every member of Team 009 except Jiang Liu collapsed, able to move nothing but their eyes.
Jiang Liu knelt, panting weakly, staring at the figure wearing Sun Wukong’s mask in terror.
In all his years as a Night Watch, he had never encountered such a bizarre, overpowering Forbidden Ruins!
Boom—!!
A series of explosions sounded in the distance. About two minutes later, Jialan returned, dragging the unconscious Shan Mei. Her dark-blue hanfu was spotless, as if she’d simply taken a stroll and casually picked someone up.
Shan Mei, by contrast, was a wreck: the ash armor on her body had shattered, her Sky-Piercer Halberd was broken in half, and she was being dragged along like a sandbag, head drooping, life or death uncertain.
“Vice-captain!!” Jiang Liu’s eyes reddened. Clenching his teeth, he somehow struggled back to his feet.
He glared at Lin Qiye, fury blazing in his eyes.
“Who… who are you people? What did Team 009 ever do to you? Why go this far?!” he roared. With a flip of his hand, a gleaming Coat of Arms appeared.
Snap!
The silver needle of the God-Drawing Talisman shot out. Without hesitation he slammed it into his palm.
“World in chaos.”
A soft voice drifted over; the Coat of Arms tore from Jiang Liu’s grasp and flew into the hands of the figure wearing Zhu Bajie’s mask, who toyed with it idly.
Jiang Liu stared, trembling uncontrollably.
Before these people, he couldn’t even risk his life.
“Fuck!!!” He threw his head back and screamed.
For the first time, he tasted true despair.
Just then someone walked up behind him and patted his shoulder.
“Relax, your vice-captain’s only unconscious. Your captain’s fine too—right now he’s drinking tea in the yard with his idol.”
Jiang Liu turned blankly. Beneath the Sun Wukong mask, a gentle voice spoke.
“Dr… drinking tea…?” His mind couldn’t keep up.
Wasn’t this a kidnapping?
A ransom demand?
A threat to kill the hostage?
“We meant to wait for you, explain things, then have a friendly spar… but you folks were so quick to draw blades.” Lin Qiye sounded resigned. “So we had to fight first.”
Jiang Liu stood frozen, still digesting the words, as Baili Pangpang strolled over clutching a Straight Blade, grinning.
“Come on, brother, all a misunderstanding! No need to stress—we’re not bad guys!”
He slid the silver needle back into the Coat of Arms and returned it to Jiang Liu, then raised another Straight Blade and headed for the prone teammates.
“Okay, I’ll read names—when you hear yours, raise a hand and I’ll give your blade back.”
“……”
“Wh… what is going on?” Jiang Liu turned to Lin Qiye. “Who are you? Why do all this?”
Behind the mask, Lin Qiye smiled without answering.
…
Factory backyard.
“Come, come, Sword Saint idol—let me toast you again!”
At a small round table, Huang Yuande—his face still bandaged—lifted his thermos, clinked it against Zhou Ping’s, eyes shining with adoration.
“If I’d known you were the Sword Saint, I’d have brought my team to visit straight away—wouldn’t have troubled you, sir…”
Being called “sir” by a man nearly forty made Zhou Ping uncomfortable. He forced a stiff smile and sipped hot water.
“For certain reasons, I couldn’t reveal my identity before the match,” Zhou Ping said.
Huang Yuande nodded thoughtfully. “Then… those outside are your students?”
Students…
Zhou Ping hesitated, then nodded. “More or less.”
“To think you’d teach them—they must be the fifth special squad, right?”
Zhou Ping blinked; Huang Yuande had guessed the truth at once.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Huang Yuande laughed. “An ordinary Night Watch team would never get personal instruction from the Sword Saint. Only something the top brass deems vital—the special squads—could make you appear. Their style and abilities don’t match any existing special team, so it’s easy to guess they’re the fifth.”
He sighed. “Running into the fifth special squad—no wonder my teammates got thrashed.”
The sounds of combat outside faded. Zhou Ping glanced up and rose.
“It ended faster than I expected.”