Chapter 51: The Inverted Corridor

You want to take on ten of us? Has your brain gone soft? Do you really think you can treat the servants of the great Dark Lords like street thugs to be beaten at will?

Every fallen one present felt their blood surge, their foreheads heating with fury. Their hands clenched their magical implements so tightly that they trembled with rage, and every muscle in their faces grew taut from gritted teeth.

If not for the fact that their leader, Cassilius, had yet to give the order, they would have already charged forward and torn Meimu to pieces.

Cassilius lived up to his reputation as a true overlord—one who commanded with poise and presence. He tilted his head slightly. “So, it seems the great Lord Dormammu’s name is far more underestimated than I imagined.”

With that, a devilish grin twisted his lips. He spat out three words: “Tear him apart!”

At that very moment, Meimu exchanged a glance with Daniel in the hall. Daniel understood Meimu’s look—it said, Brother, this is as much as I can do. If I still have strength left, I’ll help again.

Daniel replied with a silent nod: My thanks! If I survive, I’ll reward you handsomely!

The instant the ten fallen ones burst into action, all traces of Meimu’s masterly demeanor vanished. Instead, this fellow—turned and ran!

The fallen ones were left dazed: Weren’t you going to take on all ten? Didn’t you consider yourself invincible?

Their bewilderment lasted only a heartbeat before it gave way to a deeper, burning humiliation. To think they’d been played by a mere apprentice—it was as if they’d been stripped naked and paraded through the street for public ridicule.

Behind Meimu, ten fallen ones howled in pursuit. But Meimu was quick as a fox, darting away at breakneck speed.

Ah! To show off and then flee—what a thrill!

“Hmph!” Cassilius’s patience snapped. He’d been duped, along with his followers. Even he had thought, just moments before, that Meimu would stand his ground and fight to the end as he had when he slew five of Cassilius’s underlings. The indignation of an elephant being outwitted by an ant—he felt it keenly.

In two strides, he was atop the staircase, but Daniel blocked his way.

As Daniel charged, roaring, Cassilius sidestepped with dazzling agility, his hands weaving spells at blinding speed.

A thunderous rumble erupted—the very fabric of space distorted.

The corridor Meimu had chosen for his escape was no more than twenty meters long. But the instant Cassilius finished casting his spell, it stretched impossibly, becoming at least four hundred meters in length.

So, what was supposed to be a short dash suddenly became a grueling marathon.

To make matters worse, because of the warped space, the “Waltor’s Leaping Boots” Meimu wore lost their elemental synergy. Normally, if Meimu leapt, it was as if he landed on solid concrete—firm and with a springy recoil. Now, however, each step felt like slipping on a banana peel.

“Damn it!” Meimu muttered before grinning to himself.

Cassilius hadn’t just sabotaged Meimu—he’d unwittingly trapped his own men as well.

Meimu sprinted, but it was as if he were running on a treadmill—no matter how many steps he took, he remained in place.

The fallen ones, though, were agile as leopards, rapidly closing the distance.

“Take my ‘Rain of Pear Blossom Needles!’” Meimu cried, flinging a spell.

Truth be told, this was little more than a weakened Kamar-Taj version of their Shadow Arrow Barrage. Hundreds of semi-transparent magical blades, no larger than butter knives, shot forward. But against the fallen ones’ magic shields, they were all but useless.

They couldn’t pierce the shields, but they could still force the enemy back.

After a flurry of blows, Meimu still couldn’t escape the corridor, and the fallen ones, buffeted by the recoil, couldn’t close in either.

On the other side, Cassilius was visibly irate.

If he’d focused solely on dealing with Guardian Daniel, he could have settled matters in two or three moves. But watching Meimu attack his followers felt like a slap to his own face.

Cassilius gathered his power again. With a blast of dark energy, he shook off the persistent Daniel, then turned and unleashed another space-bending spell.

There came a grinding of strange gears—the corridor twisted again. What had been parallel to the ground suddenly flipped upright. The hall became the “ceiling,” while the three portals were now “below.”

With a shout, Meimu hurled aside the Staff of Life’s Tribunal and seized a lamp post with one hand, crying out in surprise: “Waaah!”

At that moment, six fallen ones seized the rare opportunity and lunged downward, descending together like eagles swooping for prey. At the top of the now-vertical corridor, Cassilius finally smiled.

The corridor was not narrow—five meters wide and three high—but six men could not spread their arms and pass through abreast.

The scene looked like a net cast from heaven itself.

Even Cassilius and Daniel thought there was no way Meimu could escape.

One moment Meimu was flustered and panicked, but the next, his true colors surfaced—the cunning wolf beneath the sheep’s skin.

“Sorry! When I was young, I went by the name ‘Jack Chao’—my father hoped I’d be outstanding, extraordinary. Pity my surname is Mei—so ‘Mei Chao,’ or ‘No Integrity.’ That wasn’t my decision.” He mocked inwardly, but the smile he showed the fallen ones was the classic grin of a hunter.

Not good!

It’s a trick!

Before they could react, Mei Chao struck.

Such an unnatural spatial inversion would catch anyone off-guard the first time, but Mei Chao was a transmigrator—he had prepared the “Cloak of Levitation” for this very scenario.

Was it just for show? Well, perhaps partly… but more importantly, it was to counter Cassilius.

Letting go with his left hand, Mei Chao did not fall. With the cloak’s levitation, he rose instead of plummeted.

If not quite as swift as lightning, he was at least as fast as an arrow loosed from the bow.

His sudden, upward, anti-gravity surge shattered the six fallen ones’ ambush.

“Hyah!” As they fell, some tried to cast spells, others braced themselves with magical rods, and still others jabbed with polearms, hoping to strike Mei Chao first.

But Mei Chao twisted through the air with serpentine agility, dodging every attack.

His crimson cloak, responding to his will, whipped around and snared one unfortunate soul by the leg, yanking him further downward.

With the formation broken—six reduced to five—the lethal encirclement was full of gaps.

As Mei Chao shot upward, passing the five plummeting enemies, he and they exchanged blows in passing.

In full control, Mei Chao slew two and wounded another, finishing the clash with a clean sweep and no injuries.

The dead lost balance mid-air, their blood painting the corridor with a stench of death. The survivors tried to halt their fall and leap back up.

But to their misfortune, by the time they reached the three portals at the bottom, the doors they’d thought securely shut had, in truth, long since been unlocked by someone’s stealthy hand. Each turned out to be a trapdoor.

The four remaining could only let out a scream as they vanished inside.