Guild Tournament

Compared to the solo tournament, the elite powerhouse guilds and esports clubs cared far more about the guild tournament. Unlike the solo tournament, where rewards leaned more toward personal prestige and honor, the prizes for the guild tournament were substantially more tangible. The victorious guild would not only claim the golden reputation of tournament champions, but also secure priority access to all sorts of special quests—and even receive treatment on par with direct affiliates of the Empire. Due to the team-size requirements, small guilds had no way to compete in the tournament at all. Consequently, the guild tournament became extraordinarily cutthroat right from the preliminaries, with only ten teams ultimately qualifying for the finals. In this grand event, the most eye-catching competitors were undoubtedly the few top-tier powerhouses: Wangquan, the Machine Cult, Magic Coin, and Jiange. Players on the forums referred to them collectively as the "Four Powerhouses." The first three were veteran guilds that had already risen during the closed beta, each backed by real-world organizations. Jiange, on the other hand, had surged forward like a dark horse after open beta began. Relying on its distinctive "wuxia style," it had drawn in a massive following of domestic players and shone brilliantly during the Northlands War. Its guildmaster, Tianxingjian, had even been ennobled as an earl thanks to his illustrious military exploits. Any guild unlucky enough to cross paths with these powerhouses was in for an exceptionally miserable time. Up to this day, all Four Powerhouses maintained a hundred percent win rate in the preliminaries, securing crushing victories in almost every single match. It was an indisputable fact that the earlier a guild got off the ground, the more it could seize the initiative and gain the upper hand in the struggle for resources. Even so, plenty of dark-horse contenders had sprung up in the guild tournament. For example, there was the Age of Rome, a new guild led by the player Augustus, boasting over a thousand members—practically all of whom were avid Roman history buffs and Byzantinophiles. Rumor had it that they had initially named their guild "The Roman Empire," only changing it to its current title after being summoned for a talk with the Imperial authorities. And the Red side in the guild battle currently underway was none other than the Age of Rome. The commentator's voice rang out: "On the Red side, we have a guild familiar to everyone—the Age of Rome! As you can see, they have recreated the image of the Roman legions to perfection..." On the field, players of the Age of Rome wore steel helmets adorned with red horsehair crests, donned red or white tunics, and were equipped with segmented lorica segmentata breastplates. They held gladii, spears, and scutum rectangular shields emblazoned with eagle motifs, with military caligae on their feet. An aquila eagle standard encircled by a golden laurel wreath fluttered proudly over the arena. "Long live Rome! Hail Caesar!" "Liberty, equality, law! Glory to Rome!" At the very forefront of the battle line, Augustus, acting as centurion, raised the eagle standard and bellowed slogans. Behind him, the players gripped their rectangular shields and brandished pilum heavy javelins, gladii, and spears, arrayed in three neat ranks that looked remarkably imposing. They had reproduced the Roman battle formation to perfection and even applied it to the battlefield—cosplay of the highest caliber. After introducing the Age of Rome, the commentator turned to the other side of the battle: "And opposing them is the Shushan Immortal Sect, whose battle cry is: 'A hall of blossoms intoxicates three thousand guests, a single frost-cold blade chills fourteen provinces'..." "They are equally determined to claim victory in this match..." The Shushan Immortal Sect—one could immediately tell the guild's style just from its name. Much like the Age of Rome, the Shushan Immortal Sect was an immersion-focused, cosplay-style guild centering around an Eastern xianxia cultivation aesthetic. It was likewise a dark-horse guild that had risen following open beta. Curiously, however, since Elezerg had no dedicated cultivation class, the vast majority of the guild's members were sorcerers or wizards. They cast spells like Tenser's Floating Disk, Greater Magic Weapon, and Light onto their "immortal swords" to simulate the effects of sword immortals. Sporting dyed white hair and draped in white Daoist robes, the guildmaster, Taiqing Zhenren, gazed across at the opposing Roman battle line. He stroked his beard, twirled his fingers, and sneered, "Hmph, mere Western barbarians. Nothing to fear." "Wait until we slay them with our immortal swords!" "Guildmaster is mighty!" "What guildmaster? Taiqing Zhenren is the Sect Master of our Shushan Immortal Sect! You should say Sect Master is mighty!" "Sect Master is mighty!" "Our Shushan Immortal Sect is bound to win our first battle and take the championship in one fell swoop!" "A hall of blossoms intoxicates three thousand guests, a single frost-cold blade chills fourteen provinces!" The players of the Shushan Immortal Sect stepped onto their individual "flying swords," hovering in midair and looking down disdainfully at the Roman formation below. Not to be outdone, the players of the Age of Rome gripped their rectangular shields and looked up at the airborne foes, their eyes burning with ferocious fighting spirit. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder, but no matter how one looked at it, this showdown between "sword immortals" and a "Roman legion" felt utterly bizarre. It felt a bit like Guan Yu battling extraterrestrial aliens. "Three." "Two." "One." "Begin the match!" As the referee's words landed, the fight erupted instantly. "Long live Rome!" "Skewer these squishies through!" The first rank of the Age of Rome's formation pressed forward, charging behind their shields and hurling volleys of heavy pilum javelins. The players of the Shushan Immortal Sect hastily cast abjuration spells. Shield after shield shimmering with magical radiance sprang up in midair, deflecting the heavy javelins. No, according to them, they weren't called spells—they were to be called "Daoist arts." "Trifling parlor tricks!" Taiqing Zhenren snorted coldly. Adopting a dramatic pose, he chanted an incantation, consecutively unleashing Tenser's Floating Disk, Haste, and Greater Magic Weapon. No, it should be called Sword Telekinesis. Several flying swords gleaming with cold light swept down from midair, transforming into streaks of sword light that slashed straight toward the players of the Age of Rome. *Swish—* Rectangular shields were sliced apart, and the Roman players behind them were decapitated. *Swish! Swish! Swish!* Flying swords danced across the sky, their crisscrossing beams inflicting heavy casualties on the Age of Rome's ranks. However, players in the rear ranks hurled another wave of javelins, striking down many Shushan Immortal Sect players who had not practiced their spells proficiently. Those players tumbled from midair with agonized wails, only to be cleanly dispatched by the gladius-wielding Roman infantry charging ahead. ... The fierce battle raged on. In the end, the Shushan Immortal Sect was not made up of genuine cultivators, but merely wizards and sorcerers playing cosplay. Many of their players were not sufficiently high in level to sustain Levitate for extended periods, and they plunged from the sky one after another. Meanwhile, the players of the Age of Rome executed their predetermined battle plan, charging and rotating back rank by rank. Their tactics were simple: alternating rest periods and covering one another, allowing them to achieve impressive results with minimal exhaustion. As "sword immortals" plummeted from the sky one by one, the Shushan Immortal Sect gradually crumbled. "It is Heaven that destroys me, not my failure in battle!" Finally, accompanied by Taiqing Zhenren's despairing wail and the triumphant battle roars of the Age of Rome, the guild match came to an end. "The winner of this match is—the Age of Rome!" "Long live Rome!" "Rome-lovers, weep with joy!" "Ohhhhh!" In the stands, Mantou watched the intense clash below and could not help exclaiming, "Weird, this is so damn weird!" "Both guilds have bizarre aesthetics, each weirder than the last. Watching them fight gives me the illusion that I've walked into some stitched-together Frankenstein of a game." Having just returned from the contestant seats, Tiansheng Zhankuang wiped his bald head and chuckled. "This is Elezerg, the game with the highest freedom. Anything these people do is completely normal." "True enough." Mantou nodded in deep agreement. If these lunatics could even cook up something like anime fire dwarf lolis, what couldn't they pull off? The wildest bunch had to be the Machine Cult, who took cosplay straight to the spiritual level and truly put the doctrine of the "Quest for Knowledge" into practice. Even their guildmaster, Gangtie Kuangchao, had no idea how far up the tech tree the big shots in the guild had climbed. Rumor had it that someone had spotted blueprints for tanks, fighter jets, and even intercontinental ballistic missiles inside their armory, which was frankly absurd. Thinking of this, Mantou asked with curiosity, "Which guild do you think will take the championship?" "The Machine Cult," Singo and Tiansheng Zhankuang answered in unison. Mantou was startled. "You're both that certain? Doesn't a veteran powerhouse like Wangquan stand any chance of winning?" "Absolutely none," Singo said with a wave of his hand, resolute and unwavering. "Why? Wangquan doesn't seem weak at all. Their wealthy guildmaster offers cold, hard cash in the real world as rewards." Singo lowered his voice mysteriously. "Do you know who backs the Machine Cult?" Before Mantou could answer, Singo continued, "The Empire! You could even say it's His Imperial Majesty himself." "From what I know, the Machine Cult has access to the Empire's highest-tier technologies and state secrets, along with massive privileges. Many high-ranking members of the Machine Cult hold key positions in the Imperial Department of Technology and the military." "With top-tier resources like that, they attract the highest caliber of talent. Quite a few real-world heavyweights have been poached by them." Singo said nonchalantly, "Put it this way: in this guild tournament, the Machine Cult doesn't even need to go all out." "All they need to do is pull a few random toys from their arsenal, and they can roll over those so-called 'powerhouses' and take the championship with ease." "Holy crap, that insane?" Mantou was astonished. On the forums, the "Four Powerhouses" were always treated as evenly matched peers. Who would have guessed from Singo's perspective that the disparity in strength was so vast? Pro players really did possess an information advantage over ordinary players. "Besides, among the current powerhouses, Wangquan is already tottering. It'll be hard for them to hold onto their current status," Tiansheng Zhankuang added with a grin. "How so?" Mantou grew even more puzzled. In forum discussions, Wangquan was always considered a formidable contender for the strongest guild, with a massive legion of supporters. Tiansheng Zhankuang explained, "In the early game, when player counts were low, their method of buying their way forward and making the entire guild serve a few whales had some effect." "Now, Elezerg has over four hundred thousand players, and the powerhouse guilds boast thousands of members." "At this stage, the drawbacks of Wangquan's system—low efficiency, heavy individualism, and unequal distribution—are beginning to show." "No matter how much money their wealthy guildmaster pumps in, once it's split among several thousand people, barely anything is left. Current Wangquan is just a paper tiger propped up by cash. Its decline is already inevitable." "So that's how it is." "Damn, is this the realm of the pros?" Mantou nodded thoughtfully. Singo suddenly turned his head, smiling. "The preliminaries are wrapping up, and only a few guilds remain. One of them is the Machine Cult. Looks like we're about to see a good show." "Huh? Is the next match starting already?" "On the Red side, the Age of Rome." As they spoke, the next match was about to begin, with the Age of Rome once again taking the Red side. Having just secured a resounding victory, their morale was soaring and their spirits were high. Their guildmaster, Augustus, had bypassed the intermission entirely by submitting a formal request to the tournament officials. He wanted to ride the momentum of that great victory, push through in one breath to crush the next opponent, and advance straight into the elimination bracket. Furthermore, the players of the Age of Rome had consumed an elixir that stoked their fighting spirit and made them braver; they had no desire to waste its precious buff duration. "Long live Rome!" "Glory to Rome!" Augustus waved the eagle standard at the very front of the formation, beaming with pride. "On the Blue side, the Machine Cult." The referee's calm proclamation echoed over the arena. The Machine Cult? The smile on Augustus's face instantly stiffened. Still, he forced himself to muster his courage and proclaimed stubbornly: "Brave warriors of Rome! Do not fear this seemingly formidable enemy! Remember the oath you swore before me, to one another: Never leave the battlefield except in victory!" As Roman enthusiasts, even in death, the cosplay had to go on! *Boom!* *Boom! Boom!* Several tall armored machines appeared on the opposing side, advancing like a fortress wall cast of solid steel. Behind the mechanized armor units, players pushed heavy artillery pieces, their cavernous muzzles sending chills down the spines of everyone watching. Only behind them came the light infantry: Machine Cult players clad in heavy hazmat-style protective suits, wielding machine guns and flamethrowers, wearing relaxed expressions beneath their glass visors. The two armies faced each other across the field, yet the technological gap between their armaments spanned at least a thousand years. "Holy crap..." "Guildmaster, should we just surrender? Losing to the Machine Cult isn't really shameful, right?" Augustus gritted his teeth and planted the eagle standard firmly into the ground. "No! Romans never surrender! Even if we lose, we die in battle!" "Begin the match!" No sooner had the referee's voice fallen than the Machine Cult players loaded their artillery shells and fired directly. *Boom! Boom!* Cannons roared, and the earth trembled. Colossal explosions erupted above the Roman formation. Shrapnel and cascading flames killed over a dozen Age of Rome players in an instant. Their specially crafted rectangular shields could stop arrows, but they were utterly powerless against bullets and artillery shells. Meanwhile, the Arcane Armor at the forefront of the Machine Cult line began an accelerated advance, rolling forward menacingly like a pack of steel behemoths. *Rumble! Boom!* "The flesh is weak, the machine ascends!" "Toll the Great Bell once! Pull the lever, engage the pistons and pumps... Toll the Great Bell twice! Press the button, spark the engine, ignite the turbines, inject life... Toll the Great Bell thrice! Sing in unison, praise the Machine God!" The battle had barely started, yet under the Machine Cult's torrential barrage, the Age of Rome had already lost more than half its force. It was simply unwinnable. This was an absolute curb-stomp of equipment disparity—akin to modern armed forces fighting cavemen, or the Trisolarans battling humanity. "Referee!" "I—I surrender!" Amidst the thunder of cannon fire, Augustus suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs. Someone in the audience called out mockingly, "Didn't you say Romans never surrender?" "Yeah, why fold so fast?" Augustus retorted defensively, "This is merely a strategic withdrawal!" "Warriors of the Age of Rome, do not despair—we shall return like lightning!" He then muttered softly under his breath, "Italy counts as Rome too, doesn't it? Surrendering is completely normal..." Evidently, Augustus was not a strictly orthodox purist.