I've Become the King of Villains in the Game

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Chen Lun had already been cautious, based on the premonitions from his divinations.

Seeing the other party waiting for him here, he was almost certain in his mind that they were not intending to trade with him, but rather, they used that piece of supernatural knowledge as bait, luring him here to ambush him.

Peeping Eye of Fate!

Chen Lun's eyes hardened, staring directly at Molimer not far away.

Determination successful!

You have obtained the following information—

Name: Molimer

Identity: President of Amber City's History and Ritual Association, History Professor at the Golden Gorse Women's College

Race: Human (Eastern Continent)

Template: Elite (Base LV20, attribute growth enhancement)

Level: 58

Life: 1200/1200

Physical Strength: 600/600

Sanity: 30/30

Main Occupation: [Sequence Nine-Tomb Robber LV10 (MAX)][Sequence Eight-Historian LV20 (MAX)][Sequence Seven-Alchemist LV8] (Earth Faction)

Attributes: Strength 27, Agility 31, Endurance 55, Intelligence 48, Faith 34

Special Attributes: Charm 11, Willpower 20, Insight 16, Luck 10

Skills: Earth Affinity LVMAX, Subterranean Traverse LVMAX, Historical Retrospection LVMAX, Borrowing the Past LVMAX, Pharmacology LV3, Alchemy LV2,—

Combat Power: 204

Danger Level: High-Level

Affection: Dislike

Evaluation: Beware of his hidden abilities, no one knows whose history he has stolen! There is no thief who doesn't steal, nor an alchemist who doesn't lose bottles! Also be cautious of his potions!

"Sequence Seven... An elite template?"

Chen Lun frowned secretly.

No wonder he hadn't sensed any supernatural fluctuations from him at the port's black market; the other party was two sequences higher than him at the time, already stepping into the mid-sequence stage.

"However... it seems I've underestimated my own strength."

He lowered his eyelids.

He had an advantage that NPCs didn't—his panel.

I can add points, you cannot.

This was the player's advantage, yet inherited by him, an NPC.

At the same time, his growth rate far exceeded that of players, which had led him to this current situation.

Even if the opponent had an elite template and naturally faster growth than the usual NPC, it still couldn't compete with him. With accumulation and subsequent promotions, he would only become stronger, eventually widening the gap with his peers and becoming comparable to higher-sequence existences.

Signs of this were already showing.

Unbeknownst to him, his board attributes had already surpassed most low-sequence beings, comparable to those who had just entered the ranks of mid-sequence transcendents. Along with the aces in his hand, the outcome of the fight with Molimer would only be known after a real confrontation.

"Is this the power of the Destiny Faction...?"

Molimer's brow furrowed.

He felt exposed after Chen Lun had glared at him just now.

This sensation made him extremely uncomfortable.

Whish whish—

The sound of flipping pages arose.

Molimer's eyes shimmered with ethereal shadows, finally settling on the figure of an elder in a white robe.

"Die, Spade!"

Boom!!

Molimer's body radiated heat as an invisible current burst forth from under his feet, blowing his clothes and hair upward.

The man himself shot through the air with a bang, leaving a trail of turbulent air behind.

Woosh—!!

He swung his fist out, and an intense flame appeared above his knuckles.

The surrounding air froze, twisting from the scorching heat.

Bang!!

A silver streak passed by, striking Molimer's wrist and deflecting his punch, which then grazed by Chen Lun's side.

The heat wave lifted Chen Lun's black hair, curling the tips.

"The power of the Sun, this is [Sequence Seven-Austere Monk]..."

Chen Lun thought to himself.

Boom—!

Taking advantage of the tilt in his body, Molimer turned and lifted his leg, his heel descending like an iron hammer.

Chen Lun raised the silver staff, flicked it open with a swish, and it transformed into a round shield in the blink of an eye.

Clang!!

Molimer's heavy kick slammed into the silver shield, and amidst the loud noise, the vibrations carried a trailing sound.

The shield collapsed back into a line and, moving faster than the average person's sight, slid towards Molimer's neck.

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At that moment!

Chen Lun, who was holding a silver sword, suddenly sensed something.

His spiritual intuition told him that someone was peering at him from the shadows!

With thoughts racing, the slashing of his sword slowed.

"Too slow!!"

Molimer bellowed.

Whoosh whoosh...

His figure blurred, reappearing in the position he was a second before, brushing past the silver sword.

Raising a hand, he threw a punch straight at Chen Lun's abdomen.

With a thud, Chen Lun spat blood and stumbled backward before staggering a few more steps and collapsing to the ground. The silver staff slipped from his hand, clanking twice as it hit the ground.

In the angle invisible to Molimer, the dark gold scales and black bone armor interwoven across Chen Lun's chest and abdomen were flowing and finally dissipated slowly.

Step... step...

Molimer walked over slowly, his footsteps hissing against the floor, emitting wisps of green smoke.

"For a Sequence Eight to last so long is quite rare."

He said indifferently.

As he bent over to pick up Chen Lun's silver staff, a piercing screech filled the air.

Whoosh whoosh...

Amidst the sound of flipping pages, Molimer's figure blurred once again, appearing a few seconds back in time. A black beam of light passed through his previous afterimage, erasing it completely.

Turning his head, Molimer saw four figures standing to the side, watching him quietly.

"Black Skull...?"

"Let me introduce myself, Roderick from Amber City Shelter, special envoy."

The man in the high-collared black coat was holding a skull, which he casually tossed aside—it was an old man with white hair and beard.

"'Knowledge' thought he was so clever, but he got shot down by stray bullets as soon as he went out...

I have to say, the Transcendents from the Magic Faction are really quite skillful. Several of my investigators turned into stone."

Molimer stayed silent, watching him with a cold gaze.

He had not expected that the leader of the secret society would be the boss of the Shelter. All of this was just his arrangement, holding the information of the members, waiting for the opportunity to net them all in one fell swoop.

The Spirit Cat had long removed her mask; the short-haired woman was holding a revolver in one hand and carrying a limp Iron Hammer in the other. The latter's face was pale, his expression indifferent; he was clearly seriously injured and had lost the power to resist.

The last person was cloaked in a dark red cloak, and Molimer was most familiar with him—Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Newman, Bishop of the Red Apple Church from Amber City.

"I didn't expect the Shelter to join forces with the Red Apple Church just to take down the 'History and Ritual Association's' branch here?"

Molimer asked slowly.

"You disgusting dead rats, what have you done that you still need to ask others?"

Newman sneered.

"The grave of the Archbishop of our Church was robbed, and Lord Lafa was enraged. He used divine arts to divine that the Tomb Robbers were from 'History and Ritual Association' and were hiding in Amber City.

Molimer, if you hand over the culprit, I will not kill you. You only need to repent for fifty years in front of Lady Rose's statue."

Molimer frowned deeply.

He completely ignored the latter part of the other's speech. Although he had heard of the incident, he didn't know any culprit.

Was it done by members of another branch?

He suddenly thought of someone, but he couldn't be certain.

"It looks like you've been planning for a long time... The Shelter suppresses independent Transcendents, and in alliance with the Red Apple Church, you take the opportunity to remove 'History and Ritual Association.' Everyone's happy."

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Molimer scoffed.

"Enough talk! Molimer!"

Newman roared.

"Since you've chosen to shield your accomplice, I will bring you to Lord Lafa and let him personally interrogate you!"

The next second, the red robe flew up.

Bishop Newman swooped in like a hawk diving for its prey.

Molimer's eyes started flipping through visions, ready to make a move.

Suddenly, a whistle sounded close to his ear!

Whiz—!

Molimer's expression froze.

The "dead" Spade at his feet suddenly sprang up, the silver staff transforming into a sword, sweeping across his waist.

The silver light sliced through clothes, cutting the skin.

A notebook, no bigger than a hand, fell out of the torn pocket.

The other person snatched it in one swift motion, clasping the notebook in hand.

All actions were over in the blink of an eye.

When Molimer came to his senses, Newman's claw-like fingers had already pierced his chest!

"Ah!! Spade!!"

Molimer screamed in agony, roaring loudly.