Dimensional Hotel
Chapter 305: Slashing Through the Chaos

Thin wisps of mist floated above the “corrupted block” covered in eerie crystalline clusters. Even the surrounding fog seemed to have been tainted with a sinister purple hue, as if the crystals themselves had spread their corrupting influence. The deep diving unit from the Special Affairs Bureau was busy collecting samples from various points. They filled containers with the soil and crystals, ready to carry them back to the real world once the team ascended.

At the same time, the divers had set up numerous detection devices to gather environmental parameters. They had also brought in a drilling machine through the “Hunting Owl” to try and dig down into the polluted block, hoping to uncover just how deeply the corruption had infiltrated the area.

Where a giant tower had once stood, there was now a deep pit, dozens of meters wide. The bottom of the pit was devoid of crystalline clusters but covered in dark purple glowing lines, which appeared to be traces left by something that had been eroded or damaged.

Foxy and Irene (pro) squatted beside the pit, discussing what the markings might mean. Though they hadn’t come to any concrete conclusions, the two were engaged in a heated debate. Xuan Che, standing nearby, watched the scene, a look of confusion and unease on his face.

After a long silence, he finally couldn’t hold back any longer. “Aren’t you worried about him?” he muttered.

Irene (steel) looked up, slightly taken aback. “Ah? Who? Oh, you mean Yu Sheng? Why would we worry about him? He’ll come back, no problem.”

Xuan Che’s worry only deepened. He couldn’t understand the way the members of this “Hotel” thought—he had never really gotten the hang of it. “He’s in danger! When Young Lady Foxy launched him up using… uh, her tail earlier, I wanted to ask, does he always do such reckless, dangerous things? Are you all used to this? And now he’s been transferred with that strange tower to another location, and we have no idea what dangers might be lurking in that tower…”

Before he could finish, Irene waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, stop being such a worrywart. Don’t fret, he’s fine. We even spoke on the phone just now. Instead of worrying about that, why don’t you come over here and check out this pit? Silly Fox said those markings were left by the base of the tower, but I think they were probably caused when the tower fired its blast…”

Xuan Che sighed deeply, deciding to ignore the overly carefree doll.

It was clear that the only person in the “Hotel” who communicated in a way he could understand was the eminent one—even if it wasn’t that much easier.

…

The sound of footsteps echoed down the empty corridor. The tilted gravity here made it uncomfortable for Yu Sheng to walk, so he stopped at a junction in the hallway, leaning against the wall to rest. He let out a quiet sigh, trying to steady his breath.

The lights in the distance flickered, suggesting a problem with the power supply. In the dim light, Yu Sheng kept sensing shadowy figures lurking just out of sight.

But maybe it was just his vision playing tricks—after all, he had lost a lot of blood since starting his journey.

A hostile presence drew near, collecting in the nearby corridor. Yu Sheng felt eyes on him, watching carefully from the shadows. He had noticed these followers trailing him for some time, and he wasn’t surprised by their attention.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to move around here unnoticed for long. After all, even in a shopping mall, you couldn’t avoid being watched by surveillance cameras, let alone on this high-tech “spaceship”—every corner, every entrance to each floor was lined with “eyes.”

Yu Sheng lifted his head and scanned the surroundings. The hallway was decorated with classical-style reliefs and intricate, colorful paintings. In many places, there were sculptures that seemed to carry religious symbolism. From the design, this place didn’t resemble a spaceship at all—it looked more like a church or bell tower, capable of jumping through space. Putting aside the crazy “salvation ideals,” the Holy Revere Hermitage group at least had some taste in aesthetics.

After scanning his surroundings, Yu Sheng finally broke the silence. “You’ve been following me all this time, setting traps nearby, and blocking the nearest passages. Are you going to come out already?”

The area remained eerily silent. The faint hum of machines and air vents echoed through the hall, hidden behind the elaborate reliefs and paintings.

Yu Sheng continued to wait patiently until finally, another sound broke the silence.

He heard the clashing of armor, followed by the sound of heavy boots marching in unison, mixed with some irregular footsteps. These sounds came from the junctions on either side of the corridor, growing louder. Soon, the enemy appeared.

Yu Sheng saw the familiar “brass knights,” strange mechanical beings that usually hid in the shadows. This time, however, they stepped out into full view, their heavy, oppressive presence unmistakable. Among them were several humans, likely members of the Holy Revere Hermitage.

The humans wore black robes that matched Yu Sheng’s stereotypical image of heretical cultists—every inch of them covered in dark, mask-like shells that hid their faces completely.

Yu Sheng couldn’t help but laugh when he saw this. He pointed at one of the black-robed figures. “I’m just curious—do you have some sort of industry standard or code of conduct? Is it mandatory for cultists to dress like this?”

The person he pointed to stepped forward, and a muffled voice came from beneath the mask. “You have no escape, intruder. Surrender now, and you might live.”

Yu Sheng snorted, nonchalantly pulling his Tetanus Staff from the air beside him. He swung the spiked club in hand and strode toward the Hermitage members, ignoring the looming brass knights.

The black-robed cultists seemed momentarily stunned by his boldness. Two of them instinctively stepped back when Yu Sheng advanced, but they quickly regained their composure.

“Kill him!” one of them commanded.

At that, the brass knights surged forward.

…

The odd gravity environment didn’t hinder the movement of the strange armored knights. They charged in, their heavy swords swinging with a chilling killing intent. However, Yu Sheng was faster. He had no interest in tangling with these metal shells. With reckless abandon, he dashed through the group of knights, only briefly blocking or dodging their strikes. His body and limbs were slashed, deep wounds opening and blood splattering across the corridor, but he pushed through without hesitation.

He swung the tetanus staff and charged at the nearest figure in black robes. Before the opponent could react, the staff crashed down with a powerful blow to their head.

The black-robed figure hadn’t expected this “intruder” to charge at him, even after being slashed nearly to death by a knight. The man had clearly decided not to survive this fight, and the injuries from the short sprint toward him, barely a dozen meters, were almost fatal. In that brief moment, a flood of questions surged through his mind: Was there some deep grudge between him and this strange “intruder”? Why was this happening? What did he want?

The black-robed figure quickly recoiled, his speed far surpassing that of an ordinary human. But Yu Sheng was quicker. Missing with the initial strike, he swiftly lunged forward, using his spiked club to sweep horizontally, slamming it into the heretic’s body.

The force of the impact reverberated through his hands, accompanied by the deafening sound of metal clashing and a flurry of sparks. Yu Sheng froze for a moment, then saw the heretic cultist flying sideways, his black robe torn apart by the spiked club’s blade, revealing underneath—powered armor.

The side of the powered armor was shattered by Yu Sheng’s raw strength, and when the black-robed man hit the ground, he was badly wounded, though still alive. Without that armor, he would’ve been torn in two by that single strike.

Yu Sheng turned around, drenched in blood. Two black-robed figures scrambled to aid their injured comrade, while the others grouped with the brass knights. They began to undo their robes, revealing an array of weapons—knives, swords, and even two wielding chainsaw swords.

It was clear they didn’t want to use firearms in a heavily damaged spaceship.

The heretic cultists wore powered armor beneath their robes—far thinner than Xu Jiali’s “muscle cans,” but clearly not cheap either. The black “mask” beneath their hoods was actually part of their powered armor helmets.

This was a far cry from the usual stereotype.

Yu Sheng felt the wounds from the brass knights slowly healing, but the weakness from blood loss told him he wouldn’t make it much longer. With a slight adjustment of his posture, he used his spiked club to prop himself up and glared at the heretic cultists. “…Who taught you to wear powered armor under your robes? Can’t you at least sync your aesthetics when you run a cult?”

What answered him was a barrage of blades and swords coming his way.

The heretic cultists didn’t play by the rules.

Yu Sheng, on the other hand, was more reasonable—he was immediately overwhelmed by a flurry of strikes and fell to the ground. He wasn’t dead yet, though—just clinging to life, lying there in a pitiful state.

The black-robed members in powered armor and the brass knights formed a circle around him, but there was a hesitation in the air.

They hadn’t expected this “intruder,” who was so bizarre and had made even the Sage nervous, to fall so easily.

The intruder was strong—at least from a physical perspective, he could no longer be considered human. He had the strength to kill a fighter in powered armor with nothing but a club, something that would be unbelievable to most. But his strength had limits. Once surrounded, he was destined to die.

The black-robed figures exchanged uncertain glances. One murmured, “…Is he really going to die?”

Yu Sheng, lying on the ground, struggled to open his mouth, as though he had something to say.

After a moment’s hesitation, one of the black-robed figures finally gathered the courage to step closer.

The “intruder” weakly whispered, in a voice barely more than a breath:

“Yeah, I’m about to die… but some things… should live.”

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation