Chapter 135: The Ninth Day, My Cheat Has Been Renewed

On the ninth day, at half past seven in the morning, the bandits abandoned their so-called rotation tactics. Over a thousand men stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the hill, many bearing injuries, their arms in slings and wrapped in bandages. The bandit leader stood at the very front, his hands heavily wrapped in gauze, and a look of bitter hatred etched across his face. His missing fingers clearly could not be reattached, leaving him forced to hold his sword in his left hand.

Judging by this posture, the bandits undoubtedly knew that today was the final day. The previous day, the bandit leader had distinctly felt his strike land. Although he had been momentarily brushed aside by Grey's roar and the blinding pain of his severed fingers, upon returning to camp and deliberating with the chamberpot mage, the logical conclusion became inescapable.

The chamberpot mage had analyzed that, given the circumstances, even if Grey was not dead, he would certainly be severely wounded and unable to fight again. Today was the last day.

The bandits cheered, rejoiced, patting each other on the back and kicking each other's rears. It was finally coming to an end. The continuous days of battle had been grueling for them; those who died could simply transmigrate and be done with it, but the large crowd of half-dead casualties battered by Kevin and his companions posed a massive problem. Too many wounded were a burden, creating significant hurdles for the future development of the stronghold. Yet they could hardly say, "Go transmigrate now," and slash the wounded to death. Even with the bandits' reckless disregard for their own lives, such an act was beyond them.

On this final day, the bandit leader decided they needed to put on a show and summon everyone. Armed to the teeth, they marched out in a grand and menacing procession. Gazing up at the hill that had resisted them for days, even the bandits felt a sudden surge of lingering emotion.

This time, Kevin sat at the cave entrance with a stern expression. Start, meanwhile, swept the ground before the cave using a tattered broom, his movements seemingly listless. Their armor and clothing remained stained with blood and mud, but their faces had been thoroughly washed. Kevin still wore a blue cape, and as an occasional breeze fluttered it, he radiated an overwhelming aura of formidable might.

This cape had been a gift from the commander of the 213th Regiment, who had noticed Kevin shivering shirtless. Although the cape possessed no thermal insulation properties—being a pure luxury item—and proved largely useless in combat, as its excessive length easily tangled around limbs, it certainly made an impression.

Yet the bandits were hardly the sort to be intimidated by such trivialities. They did not even fear death; why would they fear this? The bandit leader sneered, "Putting on a front. Is this supposed to be choosing the coolest way to die before your final moments? Hahahaha! We shall oblige you! Charge!"

With a unified roar, the horde of bandits brandished their blades and rushed forward!

"Hahahaha..." Kevin suddenly stood up, bursting into wild laughter. His entire body erupted with battle aura, sending loose gravel flying from his feet straight into the faces of the advancing bandits below. The bandits froze. Even these fearless scoundrels could not believe their eyes, for what terrified them was...

Purple battle aura?

As the cape fluttered and the purple flames pushed back the surrounding mist, it revealed the strongest battle aura on the continent! The ultimate symbol of invincible dominance! Anyone who attained this level of battle aura was crowned a Sword Saint. Throughout the ages, such figures stood at the absolute pinnacle of human might. With a single sword strike, such a person could cleave mountains and sever rivers; with solitary strength, they could annihilate a small nation.

To the bandits, this caliber of power was utterly beyond their current imagination, yet it remained their ultimate goal. After all, every protagonist eventually grew outrageously, overwhelmingly powerful. They had firmly believed they would reach this realm sooner or later, but never had they expected it to happen overnight! Overnight!

The man who had looked utterly wretched and on the verge of death just yesterday, the mere private whose red battle aura barely scraped the fourth tier—had he become a Sword Saint today? Was leaping six levels in a single night even possible? Was it possible?

It was possible! For the truth lay right before their eyes. No matter how much they refused to believe it, they could not deny their own eyes.

"Hahahaha..." Kevin continued to laugh. "Do you wretches truly believe you are the protagonists? Who told you that? What signs pointed to it? Which book did you read? Hahahaha!"

The bandits stood rooted to the spot like fools, gazing up at the overwhelmingly imposing Kevin.

"In which book does a protagonist have his chamberpot blown to pieces by the enemy?" Kevin demanded sternly.

"In which book does a protagonist fight a novice boss, only for that boss to suddenly transform into a Sword Saint?" Kevin demanded again.

"In which book do a thousand protagonists practice together in a mob?" Kevin demanded a third time.

"Answer me!" Kevin roared.

The bandits trembled violently. Some even instinctively took a step back, their hands beginning to tremble slightly. The belief that had sustained them for so long began to crumble.

"Let me tell you, I am the true protagonist!" Kevin beat his chest. "Aside from me, look across the entire continent—who else could leap six levels in a single night and ascend directly to Sword Saint? Who else can do that? Only I can! Even in the Legends of Rex, Rex only jumped two levels, whereas I jumped six. I am stronger than Rex, more of a protagonist than Rex! This is the true protagonist halo!"

Panic gripped the bandits. They exchanged glances, seeing stark terror in each other's eyes.

"Hahahaha..." Kevin laughed once more. "However, I must also thank you. It is precisely because of you extras acting as my endless sparring partners—and because you killed Grey—that in my deep grief, my true awakening was triggered! In an instant, I became a Sword Saint! Hahahaha..."

"Think back carefully. Is this not a common trope?" Kevin laughed, flicking his wrist to produce a chamberpot. "Take a look at this! Behold the dazzling radiance of my chamberpot! Can your chamberpots emit light? Are they as advanced as mine? You are destined to be nothing more than extras! Extras!!!"

The bandits dropped their jaws. With a soft thud, one of them lost strength in his legs and slumped to the ground. No one spoke; they were simply stunned, shaken by wave after wave of overwhelming shock.

"Tell me! What is the consequence of extras opposing the protagonist?" Kevin roared.

"Do you really think you will transmigrate after you die?" Kevin pressed on.

The bandits could barely endure it anymore, their minds plunged into a blank void.

Suddenly, the battle aura enveloping Kevin vanished without a trace. In a fraction of a second, he seemed to revert entirely to an ordinary, unremarkable private standing before them.

Puzzled and bewildered, the bandits began to exchange questioning glances.

"Did you think my battle aura dissipated?" Kevin chuckled. "Do you even know what lies beyond purple battle aura?"

"Wh-Wh-White battle aura," the bandit leader stammered, trembling. But someone beside him immediately countered, "N-N-No, isn't it golden?" "I remember it being seven colors." "No, it seems to be nine colors..."

"All wrong!" Kevin sneered. "Above purple battle aura, according to the solar spectrum separated by a triangular prism, lies ultraviolet battle aura. That is to say, invisible battle aura—colorless battle aura!"

The cluster of bandits blinked, completely dazed and baffled. Their educational level clearly could not comprehend such profound terminology.

"You don't understand? Do you know what returning to simplicity means? When sound reaches a certain volume, you can no longer hear it! When light reaches a certain intensity, you can no longer see it! Just as ants cannot comprehend human might, you weaklings cannot comprehend my power. I tell you, I have reached the level of a god; right now, I am the sun!"

Start suddenly let out a startled cry and collapsed backward onto the ground. "Oh no! I'm getting sunburned!"

The bandits were horrified. Instinctively, they looked down at their arms, only to discover that at some point, their skin had begun to darken.

With a series of clatters, many of the bandits could no longer maintain their grip on their swords. The bandit leader trembled violently, wheeled around, and bolted, running away at a full sprint. Snapped out of their trance, the rest of the bandits retreated like a receding tide, shedding their armor and weapons as they scrambled over one another in their frantic flight.

Kevin remained steadfastly planted atop the hill. Only after the last of the bandits had fled did he finally collapse onto the ground with a soft thuff. Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out another chamberpot and placed it on the earth.

Naturally, there was no such thing as a protagonist halo. Kevin's "purple battle aura" had been woven from the interlaced beams of blue and red lights. Underneath his blue cape, he had used a catapult searchlight for illumination; the blue light blending with his natural red battle aura created the illusion of purple battle aura. This searchlight had been a gift from Vice-Principal Luke of the Royal Academy—he had received two of them as cups from his students, and a giant ape had even used one of them as a chamberpot.

As for the supposed "sunburn," it was actually the powdered magic crystal excavated from a giant earthworm. As Start swept the ground, having ascended the high slope earlier, the powder had been subtly brushed onto the bandits' skin. This specific type of magic crystal turned dark upon exposure to light. When Kevin had slaughtered the giant earthworms, he had done so in the dead of night, carefully packing the remnants into leather pouches afterward.

Kevin had thought of this strategy long ago, but it was a desperate gamble—a high-stakes wager. Interlacing colored lights to change hues was not a tactic Kevin had invented; it was frequently used as stage effects in high-end theaters. Furthermore, the special effects Kevin produced were far from refined, as he was not professionally trained in the field. The subsequent talk of sunburns was even more absurd; by the end of his speech, Kevin had scarcely known what he was saying.

If even a single bandit had possessed the slightest bit of knowledge, the slightest shred of suspicion, and fired a single arrow at Kevin, his ruse would have instantly fallen apart. Once the special effects were channeled, he could not afford to strike physically—he had to rely entirely on his tongue! Moreover, to terrify the bandits, he had been forced to expose himself outside the cave. If anything went wrong and the bandits unleashed a volley of arrows, standing unprotected in the open meant certain death.

In Kevin's eyes, this was a plan riddled with loopholes. If Grey had not died, Kevin would gladly have held out longer. But there were no "ifs"...

"What protagonist halo?" Kevin muttered with bitter self-derision. "It's nothing more than a silver tongue and some special effects."

"No," Start said, picking himself up from the side. "I have read countless books, and I can say this is the weakest protagonist halo I have ever witnessed. But even so, this is still a protagonist halo!"

Kevin shook his head with a wry smile. "Forget it, let's go. The bandits have pissed themselves in fear; we might as well head back. We couldn't hold this place anyway."

"Finally..." Start looked back at the cave, feeling a sudden, lingering sense of sentimentality as they prepared to leave.

"Here," Kevin said. "You go ahead. I need to gather a few things and I'll catch up."

"You..." Start paused in surprise.

"I am the commander; I must take certain things with me," Kevin said, bending down to lift Grey's corpse. "You go on ahead, find the patrol parrots, and send someone to pick me up!"

"Alright! Be careful then!" Hesitating no longer, Start stepped out of the cave and broke into a jog toward the outskirts of the hill region.

Meanwhile, back at their base, the horde of bandits had fled in utter disgrace. They wept bitterly, wailed in sorrow, rolled on the ground, and battered their heads against the walls.

"Ahhhhh... The protagonist! A real protagonist!" "Why? Why us?" "Extras! We're just extras, ahhhhh!"...

Robb lay upon his bed, his injuries still too severe for him to stand. Watching the bandits behave like lunatics, he could not help but feel profound astonishment. They had left in high spirits that morning, brimming with morale to conquer the five-roaded chariot wheels; how had they ended up like this after just a little while?

These were men who did not fear death! If men who did not fear death could still be terrified, of what were they afraid? Why?

"What has happened to you?" Robb finally asked the bandit leader, unable to contain his curiosity.

The bandit leader collapsed over the edge of Robb's bed in tears. "I only learned today that we are not the protagonists, wuwuwu..." Someone nearby chimed in, "We're extras! Just extras!" "Look, we've all been sunburned."

Robb: "..."

"We encountered a true protagonist! It's a genuine protagonist halo!" "Ah! We met the sun! He sunburned us! So strong!" "Chamberpot Mage, you don't need to feel bad either. You're an extra too; we're all the same, wuwuwu..."

Robb instinctively pulled out a book. "Wait a moment. Let me consult the texts before I answer you."

Suddenly, a message arrived via Robb's owl: Kevin and Start had emerged from the cave! Robb immediately set the book aside and shouted, "They're escaping! Quick, go intercept them!"

Weeping, the bandits shook their heads in unison. "We're not going." "We surrender." "Staying as far away from the protagonist as possible is the safest choice." "Pity our brothers; they still thought they'd get to transmigrate..."

Robb tried once more to persuade them. "You must have confidence, you—"

"Fuck!" someone finally snapped in anger, pulling up his sleeve. "The man sunburned me to a crisp, and you still expect me to go out there?"

Robb stared blankly. "Come here, let me see." When he reached out and touched the arm, his hand came away covered in black ash. It was hardly a sunburn.

"This makes complete sense! The protagonist was present at the time, so I got sunburned. Now that I'm back and the protagonist isn't around, the blackness is peeling off!" The bandit quickly fabricated a logical excuse.

"Have you ever even stood in the sun?" Robb retorted, exasperated.

"You don't understand. You have no idea what we were facing," another bandit interjected. "He has already reached the realm of a god. He can sunburn us whenever he pleases, and stop whenever he pleases. The black ash falls off because he wills it—that's just how powerful he is."

Robb: "..."

"Forget it, forget it," the bandit leader sighed, shaking his head. "Brother Chamberpot, you're severely injured too. We're all just extras, let it go. Wuwuwu..."

Robb: "..." By now, he was beginning to understand. In truth, the intelligence of these bandits had been steadily eroded by him and his general; they operated under their own warped logic. For things to reach this state meant their beliefs had been utterly pulverized. But how on earth had it been achieved? Could mere words exchanged during battle possess such formidable potency?

He cursed his severe injuries for preventing him from witnessing the scene firsthand. Alas! Now he could only find a way to summon General Bradley to take charge of the situation as a whole.

Elsewhere, Start ran at a dead sprint until twilight finally broke over the deep interior of the Caludia Hills. He poured his remaining strength into crying out to a patrol parrot soaring overhead. Through a magical contract, the parrot transmitted the distress signal back to the Thunder Knights headquarters within moments.

General Odr was holding a tactical meeting with his officers at that exact moment. Upon hearing the news, everyone in the hall turned pale with shock. The staff officer's face drained of color, cold sweat instantly beading on his forehead.

General Odr immediately led a small elite detachment to rush out under the cover of night to initiate a rescue. However, word soon came back: local magistrates had already rescued the survivors, and Start was temporarily safe. The messenger also reported that Kevin remained deep within the Caludia Hills and urgently requested immediate reinforcement.

The general instantly pivoted his troops, charging straight into the depths of the Caludia Hills. With his prowess as a Sword Saint, he naturally feared nothing. Yet even he pushed his mount without a moment of rest throughout the entire night, finally catching sight of the creaking sound of heavy wooden wheels echoing through the morning mists.

The men hastily spurred their horses toward the sound. As the silhouettes gradually sharpened in the fog, they beheld a diminutive figure dragging an entire catapult forward step by step. Drawing closer, they saw that Kevin was bound in seven or eight layers of heavy ropes, stubbornly hauling the five-wheeled catapult forward, swaying with every agonizing stride. The blood and mud caked across his body were beyond counting, and upon the siege engine lay a figure draped in a military banner.

"General," Kevin murmured upon spotting the general, a mixture of sudden relief and lingering sorrow washing over him as he took a deep, shuddering breath. "I have failed."

Even a veteran general accustomed to the horrors of the battlefield was deeply moved at the sight. He dismounted to steady the young man, but Kevin's strength finally gave out entirely. Darkness swallowed his vision, and he collapsed unconscious into the dirt. (To be continued.)