Chapter 122
Killing was not an outlet for hatred—it was to save the children who would soon become Guardians of the Island and monsters.
Burning ancestral graves and the ancestral hall was not an act of rage—it was to sever the root of this evil.
Jiang Jitang remained calm.
He could have blood on his hands, but those children could grow up normally, remain innocent, the girls wouldn’t become lambs for sacrifice, the boys wouldn’t become butchers—they could all remain human. If he were a Guardian of the Island, that’s how he would think.
“I’ll do it.” Old Zhang stepped forward and took the engineer’s shovel from Jiang Jitang’s hands. The rules about not harming the weak or elderly didn’t apply in the dungeon. If he refused, would Jiang Jitang have to get his hands bloody?
“No need. You’re military police. Why risk it? I’ll handle it.” Jiang Jitang shook his head, taking the shovel, and with a single swing, struck the elderly woman on the ground.
Old Zhang and the others had faith—they couldn’t touch this. The Guardian on the tall building wasn’t yet eighteen, a minor. Thus, an adult like Jiang Jitang, operating outside such constraints, was suitable.
Killing was just killing. He had long passed the stage of guilt over life.
Besides, this was a dungeon; there were only humanoid monsters. There was no psychological burden at all.
“I have some smoke bombs.” Wei He produced his stock. Light them and throw them inside—anyone emerging would be taken out. Even a cunning rabbit with three burrows couldn’t escape this trick.
Having been a member of overseas peacekeeping forces, he had witnessed too much war and slaughter. If he wasn’t ruthless, others would be ruthless toward him and those under him.
“I’ll burn the mountain and smash the ancestral hall.” Shi Xiuming still couldn’t bring himself to harm ordinary humans—even guilty ones, even paper-thin NPCs. So he chose the mountain—the village graves were on the rear hills.
“Can I have another?” Old Zhang suddenly resolved himself. Dungeon rules applied within dungeons, but this was a savage world. Even modern civilized society allowed for “emergency exceptions,” a buffer for human and moral conflict. He had been naïve.
“I’ll help too. Can’t let Manager Jiang have all the fun.” Wu Gou removed his glasses, revealing sharp, clever light-brown eyes.
As for Song Hechuan, he had been itching to act for a while.
Perhaps those who stayed too long in the Cube World ceased to be entirely normal.
A few killing gods set aside morality. Hundreds of villagers in the village couldn’t stop them.
Yet when it came to the Guardian’s family, they hesitated slightly.
“Since these are the ones who drove the Guardian mad, should we let her handle them herself?” Shi Xiuming analyzed the situation from a task-success perspective.
The ones restrained were the Guardian’s father and brother, both of whom had been to the high tower and intended to send the Guardian’s niece in next.
They were not the poorest on the island, but the most inhumane.
They continually exchanged the lives of family daughters for supplies, without objection. From top to bottom, the clan was poisoned.
“Isn’t that too cruel? What if she can’t overcome the ‘kill kin’ trial? Perhaps better to kill them now.” Jiang Jitang analyzed from the perspective of the boss’s emotional needs.
Even he hadn’t been able to bring himself to kill the old duke. Killing one’s kin is a difficult hurdle for any normal person. Why give that unfortunate girl more trouble?
One should act perfectly.
In the end, Jiang Jitang convinced them. The adult male family members of the Guardian died immediately. The elders who turned a blind eye and aided evil also died. Women and children who had observed or cursed but done nothing were loaded onto a boat and pushed into the sea.
Only the Guardian’s mother had her eyes gouged out.
Since she couldn’t see before, she would never see again.
Blood bloomed across the isolated island. From afar came singing, from the direction of the high tower. A bright yellow light stood out in the night, like a fisherman’s call—but eerie and shrill, not strong and healthy.
Blood-stained figures walked along the path. Behind them lay emptiness, a world covered in flames. Backlit, they looked like demons.
“Normally, how would you handle this dungeon?” Jiang Jitang asked curiously.
“Enter the village, investigate, then act. The dungeon only gives a few hours. Harsh interrogation or unconventional methods might be used,” came the answer.
“Killing?”
Wu Gou laughed: “You can’t kill NPCs casually in dungeons; affection scores drop and difficulty rises. Of course, the Guardian’s case is different, but not enough to massacre the village.”
Old Zhang had a point—they had done things only villains would normally do.
Whether effective or not was unknown, but it felt satisfying. Some scum shouldn’t live.
“Compared to the legends, we’ve been merciful. Those uninvolved were released.” Jiang Jitang looked at the high tower. The closer they got, the stronger the feeling of being observed.
She must have seen everything, right?
If the Guardian’s hatred targeted the villagers, she would despise everyone, even the children.
Perhaps killing everyone would have soothed the boss’s anger, but that violated Jiang Jitang’s principles. His principles outweighed the boss’s wrath.
“What if the boss thinks letting some people go defies her will, and judges our task failed?” Shi Xiuming asked.
Without thinking, Jiang Jitang said: “Then we kill the Guardian too. Dead ends all matters.” Tomorrow there were courier tasks—no time to dilly-dally.
Everyone: …Hope the boss is sensible. He’s serious.
The Guardian had been waiting atop the tower. From the small window, only half her face was visible, hidden in the gray night. Yet almost everyone saw her expression clearly.
No hatred, no madness—only compassion.
With that single look, everyone understood: though uneducated, the Guardian saw the architects of her miserable fate.
The villagers merely executed orders; the clan system of violent oppression was the real cause.
Her hatred was toward the system and the beast-like villagers—but she still retained pity for the children.
“How do we proceed? Go up, or let the Guardian come down?” Following dungeon task flow, it was time to face the boss. Most dungeon bosses are enraged, impossible to communicate with—but maybe this one could be.
“Don’t know if she has other task requirements.”
“Only going up will tell.”
“No need to enter, just blow the tower up.”
“Ah?”
Everyone looked at Jiang Jitang, who continued: “The tower has its own rules. Any male who enters is an invader. Better to help her complete the final step than insist on meeting her. This is her last cage.
“The Guardian’s hatred is not just hers—it’s shared by countless Guardians. They hate this cage too.”
The Guardian upstairs seemed to hear him. She smiled.
After years of torment, her body was broken; she couldn’t leave to start anew.
She had grown into the shape of the tower itself—she didn’t want to come down, didn’t want to live, only to become ashes with the past and the tower that confined her.
“Blow up the tower. That tiny window blocked the light—let her see the sky and sea without barriers.”
“I’ll get materials, make a siege engine.” Shi Xiuming pulled an axe from his pack.
The stone tower symbolized oppression and exploitation. Jiang Jitang’s suggestion was unanimous.
But manpower was limited. Several soldiers wanted to improvise a siege engine to smash the stone tower.
“No need. Can you make black powder? I’ll provide the materials.”
The dungeon timeline was 200 years ago; most tech tools were unavailable, but black powder was possible. Firearms existed in that era.
“You have all this? Awesome.” Beyond these two words, they had no other. Storage items were rare and limited—who would casually stock black powder materials?
“As expected of the leader—far-sighted.”
They joked, letting joy dissipate suppressed anger. Though centuries ago, the act was… disgusting. Truly disgusting!
Jiang Jitang bought the black powder materials with points; on site they prepared it, connecting fuses.
The Guardian watched silently, seemingly aware of their plan, yet didn’t stop them.
Jiang Jitang didn’t act directly; he wasn’t skilled enough. Only he and the woman exchanged glances. Their eyes were similar—calm, rational, slightly obsessive. His gaze was sharper, more aggressive.
“Ready, Manager Jiang.”
Black powder was prepared and placed in pre-dug wall crevices. The fuse was laid. They retreated to the initial grass piles, clearing weeds along the path so the fuse wouldn’t be blocked.
In the dark, Jiang Jitang lit the fuse. Sparks leapt forward; they watched the stone tower explode in a thunderous roar, breaking apart.
The stone tower, fragile under black powder’s fury, crumbled—like outdated filth vanishing under new civilization’s baptism.
Debris fell into the sea; only ruins remained. When dust cleared, the Guardian was gone. Only the ocean roared, echoing through the night.
White waves crashed, then receded, revealing a faint silhouette rushing toward the sky.
After the tower’s collapse, the air lost its nauseating stickiness. Jiang Jitang noticed the previous markers had vanished—task likely complete.
“Next, we wait for sunrise?”
Others nodded. With their experience, the final boss stage was cleared; only waiting remained.
“This was my most satisfying dungeon run, playing with my own team.”
“Definitely. If this were a real dungeon, we’d get high scores. Wonder what items appear in such a dungeon.”
They sat on the rocks, relaxed.
“Since it’s over, I won’t be polite.” A handcart appeared next to Jiang Jitang. On it was a large vat holding a mulberry tree.
Over three meters tall, it should have been lush, but now it was crawling with silkworms, munching leaves.
This tree, full of insects, looked even more monstrous than a monster—creepy.
Song Hechuan shivered; he wasn’t afraid of corpses, but insects were another matter. Forensics studies included entomology, which he feared.
Jiang Jitang pushed the cart to the ruins, sensing lingering negative energy. The mulberry leaves trembled.
“So much… so much food.”
At the ruins’ edge, he touched the tree trunk: “Eat well. Best to produce two new saplings. One day, you’ll be key in eliminating horror zones.”
He couldn’t accompany the scavenger team, but the saplings could. Once fed, they’d produce more leaves and berries, sustaining more silkworms and replenishing his “ammunition.”
The mulberry shook its crown—either agreement or terror at the endless consumption of its descendants.
The scavenger team watched.
“Manager Jiang came here just for this tree?”
“Obviously. Otherwise, do you think he has this kind of charm? Countless people outside idolize him, hoping to be chosen.”
“Charm? That’s just showing off.”
“Then are we considered his direct subordinates?”
“Definitely.”
