Chapter Eighteen: The Exiled King (With gratitude to the reader Yue Ming for contributing several characters)

"Of course, given the difficulty of this mission, I will arrange some helpers for you." As he spoke, the Wolf Steward waved his hand, and an image appeared above the table, clearly visible to everyone present.

A group of people was engaged in battle with monstrous creatures. "You are lucky, not to be like them." The scene showed that those fighting were players who, like them, had arrived here. Their opponents were grotesque monsters with dark red skin, human-like bodies crawling on all fours, each with an enormous mouth that stretched back to their ears, filled with two jagged rows of teeth above and below—an unsettling sight.

"Only those who escape the castle despite the blood thralls’ obstruction are qualified to assist you in this task," the Wolf Steward explained languidly.

Knowing his words carried significance, everyone watched the players closely, wondering who might become their teammate. Among them, a tall figure immediately drew their attention.

He was a resolute young man with a buzz cut, each strand of hair standing upright and dyed a vivid blood-red. His bare upper body revealed muscles so knotted and powerful that even a champion bodybuilder would pale in comparison.

"Why is that guy here?" one of the Paladins spoke up.

"Third Brother, do you know him?" the eldest Paladin asked, puzzled.

"That arrogant fellow who calls himself the King of Banishment," the third Paladin replied with obvious animosity.

"Let’s teach him a lesson!" the second Paladin declared bluntly.

"Agreed!" the fourth nodded.

The four exchanged glances, all giving firm nods. But while they plotted, the rest of the group was captivated by the ferocious figure locked in combat.

Onscreen, the King of Banishment’s face was set with determination. His punches and kicks were unremarkable, yet the blood thralls charging him exploded like watermelons beneath his iron fists.

"Oh?" The Wolf Steward’s expression shifted. "I overlooked a martial artist."

He had chosen participants based on their apparent physical prowess, and the King of Banishment, who had not seemed exceptional in this regard, had been dismissed. Yet for martial artists, physical attributes are but one aspect; their mastery of combat techniques and passive abilities is what makes them formidable, though these are invisible when not fighting.

Take Murong Xun, sitting here now. Compared to others, his physical stats were at the ‘weakling’ level, but thanks to Duke Ephesoia’s special permission, he had earned his place.

The King of Banishment’s fighting style was direct—no fancy moves, just pure brute force, smashing enemies with his fists. This impressed the red-haired woman, who watched with admiration.

He was not the only standout; others showcased their own strengths. Despite the players unleashing their full power, the blood thralls could not halt their advance. Yet breaking through was not so simple.

Suddenly, a squad of guards, fully armored, charged toward them. With synchronized precision, they slammed into the players trying to escape, sending them reeling back. Even those in melee professions with shields could not withstand the onslaught.

Shadow glanced at the Wolf Steward, wisely keeping silent.

On the battlefield, the King of Banishment was surrounded by a blood-hued aura. His hair, now a vibrant crimson, stood rigid as steel spikes, the color more intense as if soaked in blood. His upper body swelled, muscles bulging visibly, his frame growing two sizes larger. Once he surpassed two meters in height, his presence became truly intimidating. His skin, bronzed and gleaming, seemed to shimmer with golden light.

With a powerful stride, he rushed forward and hurled a punch straight at a guard’s face.

"This martial artist is impressive—well-versed in body refinement. He would make a fine helper," the Wolf Steward said approvingly. "These guards, at the peak of the zero tier, cannot stop him."

As if to affirm his words, the King of Banishment knocked down the guards obstructing him and strode away, disappearing after a few leaps.

With the barrier broken, other players tried to follow, but the fallen guards rose again, their dented armor restored to pristine condition. They formed a wall, an impenetrable barrier blocking the way.

At that moment, someone’s back sprouted phantom wings. Under envious gazes, that person soared over the crowd.

"Not bad, clever." The Wolf Steward nodded in approval. "Not just a brute, but one with wit—he could also be a good helper."

From his remarks, it was clear that this trial was not solely about combat ability; anyone who found a way out of the castle would be acknowledged.

In the crowd, a heavily made-up woman clad in revealing attire, her pale skin and long legs drawing all eyes, suddenly threw out a rope that shot skyward without end. She climbed it swiftly and vanished.

Others tried to follow, but before they could ascend, the rope fell away.

While most focused on others’ strength, Murong Xun watched their ingenuity with delight. In his previous world, he had little interaction with players and had never seen such a variety of abilities. Now, his eyes were opened.

Their raw power was not necessarily impressive; many had poor attributes, but their skills were diverse and extraordinary, broadening Murong Xun’s horizons as a newcomer.

Some broke through the blockade with sheer strength or unique methods, but most were struck down or slain by the guards.

To everyone’s surprise, the guards were nothing more than empty suits of armor—hollow shells. Yet such beings had rendered many players helpless.