Stronger with More Jobs-Chapter 442 - 232: At Least Let Them Have a Good New Year...

Chapter 442: Chapter 232: At Least Let Them Have a Good New Year...

Meanwhile, Shangjing City, Chang’an Ancient Street.

The riverbank in the deep of night had long lost the bustle of daytime.

The dim streetlights stretched the shadows of the willows long onto the silent stone-paved road, and the river flowed silently, reflecting distant neon lights from tall buildings and a few scattered stars.

Hong Qitian still sat on his worn-out small stool.

His murky old eyes were half-closed, with the fishing rod slanting on the stand, as if it merged with the night, becoming a frozen stone sculpture by the river.

Suddenly, the light and shadow beside him twisted ever so slightly.

A middle-aged man, dressed in a washed-out coarse cloth jacket spotted with fresh mud, with pants legs rolled high revealing strong calves, appeared silently on the riverside beside him, as if he grew out of the ground.

This man had rugged features, dark skin with signs of years of toil and exposure to the sun, and his hair was messy, like he had just crawled out of a field ridge.

He didn’t even look at Hong Qitian.

He nonchalantly sat down on the cold stone pavement and stretched his mud-covered feet directly into the murky river water.

"Splash..."

The slight sound of water broke the silence.

What was unsettling was that the "black mud" on his feet seemed anything but ordinary.

Upon contacting the river water, it dissolved quickly like a living thing, spreading out.

The blackness, like ink dropped into clear water, spread swiftly.

The river surface, once reflecting the lights, was quickly dyed into a murky black visible to the naked eye, and even the ripples seemed to become sluggish and heavy.

The middle-aged man, casually paddling the cold river water with his feet.

Spoke in a muffled voice, his tone heavy with weariness and almost uncontrollable irritation:

"Old man, we really can’t delay anymore... If we drag this out, there will be no one left on our side! The brothers can’t hold on! Let’s let them in... It’s better than having all the brothers fill in for nothing!"

Hong Qitian’s withered hand holding the fishing rod didn’t move an inch, seemingly not hearing him.

But the position at his temple visibly twitched once.

Seeing no response from him, the middle-aged man’s voice suddenly rose a few pitches, with a hint of grievance and anger:

"How am I supposed to fight?! They know the territory better than we do! They’re elusive like rats burrowing! The brothers have to stay on edge all the time, sleeping with one eye open! And the worst part is..."

He suddenly slapped his thigh, splashing a few droplets of viscous black water:

"Every now and then, some brainless gods pop out from who knows where, either to reap some benefits or purely to cause trouble! Stirring up chaos inside! Impossible to guard against! The brothers are human too... not made of iron! It’s been decades, old man! They’re getting tired... really can’t hold on anymore..."

"Bang!"

A crisp knocking sound suddenly rang out.

Hong Qitian at some point raised his left hand, with index and middle fingers together like a hammer, struck the middle-aged man’s forehead with a force that seemed to express dissatisfaction at the situation!

The force was so strong that the middle-aged man yelped in pain, covering his head with a grimace.

"What are you good for!"

Hong Qitian finally spoke, his voice deep and hoarse, laden with an inexplicable weariness and disappointment, "Can’t handle this situation? Back in the day, I..."

"Back in the day, back in the day!" The middle-aged man, clutching his head, finally lost it, retorting with his neck raised, "Back in your day was back then! What is it like now? We’re filling the holes in with our lives! How many brothers have fallen over the years? Have you counted? Do you really think the brothers are like leeks, cut one batch, and there’s another?!"

Hong Qitian held his hand up, as if wanting to knock again, but seeing the bloodshot, exhausted, and aggrieved eyes of the middle-aged man and the river surface with its pervasive, thick darkness sticking like a shadow, his wrinkled hand finally slowly lowered.

His murky old eyes gazed at the black river surface, reflecting a faint, struggling light.

The river wind blew across his graying temples, and the once straight back seemed to be hunched further at this moment.

A long while passed, long enough for the darkness on the river to seem like it was about to solidify.

Only then did Hong Qitian, in an almost inaudible voice, with a heavy sigh, slowly say:

"...after the New Year."

"Wait... wait until after this New Year... then announce it..."

The old man’s voice diminished, carrying a barely perceptible plea:

"At least... let them have a good New Year..."

As his words fell, the riverbank sank once more into a dead silence.

Only the murky river water flowed silently, carrying that ever-spreading, ominous thick darkness, slowly drifting downstream.

...

Fang Qingyu’s mind sank into his thoughts.

[Skill Points: 43]

The cold number appeared before his eyes.

Fortunate? Or unfortunate?

The fortunate part was that five waves of unimaginable slaughter, each assault from the Life Ghosts was accompanied by unprecedented, bizarrely shaped, or ferociously capable new Life Ghosts emerging.

From the first wave, the recording prompt on the map had hardly stopped.

Variants of Shadow Dogs, empowered forms of Rock Puppets, never-before-seen Poisonous Worms, and Shadow Hunters capable of temporary invisibility...

An array far surpassing the types mentioned in Zhou Zhenguo’s intelligence.

skill points, a testament of the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, are war trophies earned by repeatedly dancing on the edge of death.

Unfortunate because.

This massive, staggering amount of skill points attests precisely to the terrifying intensity of this Ghost Festival tide.

From the first wave at Dawn until this moment of deep night, five whole waves in total!