Lu Chen sat inside the military aircraft, gazing through the porthole at the clouds racing past beneath him.
It was five in the morning. Dawn had yet to fully break. Besides him, the cabin held Wang Meng and three other teammates handpicked by the military—an arrangement Zhao Feng had made, describing them as "the elite among elites."
Seated opposite Lu Chen was a lean young man codenamed Hawkeye, Level 30, a sniper specializing in extreme long-range engagements. He was meticulously wiping down an exaggeratedly long sniper rifle, its barrel wrapped in glowing energy coils—clearly a heavily modified weapon.
Next to him sat a burly man, callsign Iron Shield, Level 31, a defense specialist carrying a half-man-tall alloy shield on his back. His eyes were closed as he regulated his breathing, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, evidently circulating a cultivation technique.
The third was a short-haired young woman, callsign Spirit Sparrow, Level 29, an expert in reconnaissance and communications. A portable terminal rested on her thighs as her fingers danced across a virtual keyboard, rapidly parsing incoming data.
With Wang Meng (Level 32, melee assault) and Lu Chen himself (Level 33, all-rounder), the squad's composition was impeccably balanced: long-range firepower, defense, reconnaissance, assault, and Lu Chen as a flexible keystone capable of filling any gap.
"Ten minutes to the target airspace," the pilot's voice came through the comms. "Prepare for parachute insertion."
Parachuting?
Lu Chen frowned. Zhao Feng had never mentioned a jump.
"The Yunmeng Marsh secret realm is protected by spatial restrictions," Spirit Sparrow explained, looking up. "Aircraft can't land directly. The entrance is a spatial rift three thousand meters above ground. We have to jump through it to enter."
She projected a three-dimensional map into the air. "This is the terrain chart from prior military reconnaissance. Yunmeng Marsh spans five hundred and thirty square kilometers. The central region is the Mist Bog, perpetually shrouded in toxic miasma, with visibility under five meters. To the east lies Thousand-Islet Lake, which occupies a third of the realm and teems with aquatic beasts. The west is the Ancient Timber Forest, where trees reach a hundred meters in height—complex terrain, ideal for ambushes. The north is the Rubble Hills, relatively safer, but resource-poor."
Dozens of red markers dotted the map—known danger zones and beast lairs.
"Our mission is to survive for seven days and accumulate as many points as possible," Wang Meng added. "Points come from three sources: killing beasts, harvesting rare herbs and ores, and defeating other competitors. The tactical terminals will record everything automatically."
Lu Chen glanced at the terminal on his wrist. Its interface had updated:
[Name: Lin Xiao]
[Current Points: 0 (preliminaries reset)]
[Team: Unnamed (temporary)]
[Members: Wang Meng, Hawkeye, Iron Shield, Spirit Sparrow]
"As for Qingyun Sect," Spirit Sparrow continued, switching screens to display several photos, "our intel confirms that Bai Yunsheng brought fifteen Qingyun disciples into the realm. Their objective is clear—kill you. In addition, Blazing Flame Sect and Ghost Shadow Sect may also target you. You stole the spotlight in the preliminaries."
She paused. "The good news is that other military teams are inside as well; mutual support is possible if necessary. The Association has also deployed a team led by Chen Jing. She said you can contact her if you need help."
"Chen Jing…" Lu Chen recalled the cold-faced deputy director. "Is she trustworthy?"
"She is," Wang Meng said firmly. "Chen Jing is known for her integrity. If she gives her word, she keeps it. And she owes you a favor—she won't stab you in the back now."
"Let's hope so," Lu Chen replied noncommittally.
Warning sirens blared as red lights flashed.
"Entering target airspace," the pilot announced. "Countdown: thirty seconds."
The hatch opened, and a violent gale roared into the cabin.
Below lay a churning sea of clouds, within which a distorted vortex could be seen faintly twisting—the entrance to the secret realm.
"Jump!" Wang Meng leapt first.
Hawkeye, Iron Shield, and Spirit Sparrow followed in rapid succession.
Lu Chen took one last look at the clouds below and hurled himself into the void.
Free fall.
Wind howled past his ears as the clouds rushed up. At five hundred meters from the rift, he saw the vortex expand, like a colossal eye slowly opening.
The instant he pierced the cloud layer, the sensation of weightlessness vanished, replaced by a viscous resistance, as though passing through a membrane of water.
The world changed abruptly.
Gone was the sky—replaced by a dim, desolate marshland.
Soft sludge squelched beneath his boots. Reeds half a man tall swayed around him, and the air was thick with rot and damp decay. Dense fog smothered the land, limiting visibility to barely ten meters.
Lu Chen landed in a forward roll to bleed off momentum, sprang up, and scanned his surroundings.
The others touched down moments later, all maintaining combat-ready stances.
"Equipment check," Wang Meng said quietly.
They conducted a rapid inspection. The parachute packs had detached automatically; their tactical packs and weapons were intact.
"This is Yunmeng Marsh?" Iron Shield muttered. "It's worse than the reports."
"The fog is toxic," Spirit Sparrow said through her gas mask, reading from her terminal. "Trace neurotoxins detected. Prolonged exposure causes dizziness and fatigue. Recommend wearing masks at all times."
Lu Chen donned his own mask.
The tactical terminal linked to the realm's navigation system, displaying their position—southeastern edge of Yunmeng Marsh, fifty kilometers from the central zone.
"First priority: establish a temporary stronghold," Wang Meng ordered. "Iron Shield on guard, Spirit Sparrow on recon, Hawkeye find high ground. Lin Xiao and I will clear the perimeter."
Clear, efficient division of labor.
Iron Shield raised his shield at the front. Spirit Sparrow released three advanced micro-drones equipped with thermal imaging and energy detection. Hawkeye climbed a crooked dead tree and set up his sniper rifle.
Lu Chen and Wang Meng swept the surrounding reeds, confirming the absence of hidden threats.
Ten minutes later, Spirit Sparrow summarized: "No other competitors within a one-kilometer radius. Six beast signatures detected—Level 20 to 25, low threat. Eight hundred meters northeast is a small hill with higher ground—ideal for a base."
"Move," Wang Meng said.
The team advanced in formation.
Their first encounter came swiftly—a three-meter swamp crocodile, Level 22, masquerading as a fallen log.
Lu Chen held back. Wang Meng dispatched it with a single strike.
The carcass dissolved into white light, leaving behind a fingernail-sized crystal—one point.
"That's it?" Iron Shield picked it up. "How many of these do we need to kill?"
"Higher-level beasts yield more," Spirit Sparrow replied. "Level 30 beasts are worth five points; Level 40 are worth twenty. If we find a lair and wipe it out, points will skyrocket."
"Base first," Wang Meng said.
The hill proved ideal—dry ground, open sightlines, overlooking vast stretches of marsh, backed by a stone forest that served as a natural barrier.
They set to work.
Iron Shield and Hawkeye constructed rudimentary defenses—using energy weapons to blast a shallow trench around the hilltop, then fashioning sharpened stakes from felled trees. Spirit Sparrow deployed sensors and cameras across a three-hundred-meter perimeter.
Wang Meng and Lu Chen reviewed equipment and outlined strategy.
"Seven days of survival—food and water come first," Wang Meng said, spreading the map. "Water is plentiful but must be purified. Food can come from beasts, but some are poisonous."
"I can identify what's edible," Lu Chen said. "The monument spirit has a biological database."
"That's a relief," Wang Meng exhaled. "As for points, two approaches: play it safe and grind resources, or take the offensive—hunt high-value targets like lairs or other teams."
"I choose the second," Lu Chen said without hesitation. "Time is limited. And Qingyun Sect won't give us the luxury of slow growth."
"Agreed," Hawkeye chimed in. "I saw distant firelight earlier—other teams fighting. We can… mediate."
Mediation—waiting until both sides were crippled, then sweeping in.
Dirty. Effective.
"Decision made," Wang Meng concluded. "Fortify today. Tomorrow, we go hunting. Two-man rotations on watch; the rest rest."
Lu Chen and Iron Shield took first watch.
They sat at the edge of the hill, gazing into the fog-shrouded marsh.
"Brother Lin," Iron Shield asked suddenly, "is it true you killed the Ghost Organization's Doctor?"
"It is," Lu Chen said calmly. "But not alone."
"Impressive," Iron Shield said, giving a thumbs-up. "We chased that bastard for three years. You avenged a lot of us."
"You have history with them?"
"Blood-deep." Iron Shield's gaze hardened. "Three years ago, Ghost attacked a border outpost. Twelve of our brothers died—one was my kid brother. He was eighteen."
He clenched his shield. "That's why I joined special ops. The Doctor may be dead, but Ghost still lives. After this tournament, I'm heading to the front lines."
Lu Chen said nothing—only rested a hand on his shoulder.
Everyone carried their own scars.
Suddenly, Spirit Sparrow's voice crackled through the comms:
"Alert! Large-scale energy signatures detected two kilometers northeast! At least twenty targets, approaching fast!"
"Direction?" Wang Meng demanded.
"Heading straight toward us! ETA five minutes!"
"Battle stations!" Wang Meng roared.
The team snapped into formation.
Through the fog, silhouettes flickered among the reeds.
"Thermals confirm—beasts!" Spirit Sparrow reported. "Medium size, Level 25 to 30. Count—at least thirty!"
Thirty mid-tier beasts.
Not a trivial threat.
"Ironfang Wolves," Lu Chen identified via the monument spirit. "Pack hunters. Their teeth can pierce steel. Weak points: abdomen and eyes."
"Plan?" Wang Meng asked.
"No frontal clash," Lu Chen said swiftly. "Iron Shield absorbs the first wave. Hawkeye takes the alpha. Spirit Sparrow deploys smoke. Wang Meng and I flank. Do not get surrounded."
"Understood!"
The pack surged closer.
Two-meter-long forms, gray-black fur, green-lit eyes, fangs dripping saliva. The alpha towered above the rest—Level 32.
"Hawkeye, the alpha," Lu Chen ordered.
"Copy."
At one hundred meters, Hawkeye fired.
The armor-piercing round screamed forth—but the alpha twisted at the instant of discharge. The bullet grazed its neck, drawing blood but missing the kill.
The alpha howled.
The pack charged.
"Iron Shield!" Wang Meng shouted.
Iron Shield slammed his shield into the ground. His muscles bulged as an earthen energy barrier unfurled.
Boom!
The first wave crashed into it. The shield trembled, but held.
"Smoke!" Spirit Sparrow hurled three canisters.
Dense clouds billowed, blinding the wolves.
"Move!" Lu Chen and Wang Meng struck from the flanks.
Blades flashed. Lu Chen severed a wolf's foreleg, then split another's skull. Wang Meng targeted bellies, each cut deep and lethal.
The pack reeled—then adapted. Coordination tightened. Half encircled Lu Chen, the rest Wang Meng.
"Careful!" Iron Shield shouted, pinned by three wolves.
Hawkeye dropped two more, but reload lagged. Spirit Sparrow's shots harassed but couldn't suppress.
Eight wolves closed in on Lu Chen.
They attacked in rotation—relentless, precise. One lunged head-on; Lu Chen parried, but another snapped at his leg. He kicked it away—only for a third to leap from behind.
Cold light flashed in his eyes.
Suppressing Step.
His form blurred, slipping free of the encirclement. The blade swept back—
Three heads flew.
Instant kill.
The remaining wolves went berserk.
Lu Chen inhaled deeply, channeling true essence.
The blade ignited with silver light, its devouring property awakening.
One strike.
Five spectral arcs cleaved outward.
Five wolves were bisected simultaneously.
Lu Chen landed, breathing lightly.
Elsewhere, Wang Meng finished his opponents, bloodied but standing. Iron Shield, Hawkeye, and Spirit Sparrow cleaned up the rest.
Silence fell.
Thirty-plus Ironfang Wolves—annihilated.
Crystals littered the ground: mostly one-point shards, with a single five-point crystal from the alpha.
"Damn…" Wang Meng sat down to tend his wounds. "Tough beasts."
"Good haul," Spirit Sparrow tallied. "Thirty-eight points total. Average 7.6 each. A strong start."
"But the noise was loud," Hawkeye warned. "Gunfire and energy surges will draw attention."
"Let them come," Lu Chen said, wiping blood from his blade. "Saves us the trouble of searching."
The leaderboard updated—their team ranked seventh with thirty-eight points. Bai Yunsheng's team led with sixty-five.
"Clean up and reinforce," Wang Meng ordered. "Visitors are coming."
They moved swiftly—burying carcasses, erasing blood scents, strengthening defenses.
Half an hour later, the first visitors arrived.
A trio of rogue cultivators, Levels 28–30. They hesitated at the sight of the fortifications—and left.
Then a five-man squad from a minor sect. After prolonged observation, they too withdrew.
"Our presence deters them," Spirit Sparrow noted.
"Deterrence attracts predators," Lu Chen replied.
As if on cue, the third group arrived.
Five figures in azure Daoist robes, the character "云" embroidered on their chests.
Qingyun Sect.
Their leader—a gaunt Daoist, Level 33, wielding a horsetail whisk—looked up coldly.
"Lin Xiao," he called. "Senior Brother Bai Yunsheng sends a message. Hand over your points, cripple your cultivation, and you may live."
Lu Chen laughed. "Why didn't Bai Yunsheng come himself? Afraid?"
"Impudent!" the Daoist snapped. "Formation!"
The five disciples spread into a pentagonal array. Green energy threads interwove, forming a complex formation.
"Five-Element Dragon-Trapping Array," Spirit Sparrow analyzed rapidly. "Mobile core, difficult to break."
"Then kill them all," Lu Chen said, leaping down. "Wang Meng—handle the rest. The leader's mine."
Chains of green light descended.
Lu Chen cleaved through three. Two bound his limbs as crushing pressure descended.
"Interesting," he murmured—and unleashed his power.
The chains shattered.
The Daoist's face drained of color.
"Now my turn."
One step—Lu Chen vanished.
The blade fell.
Silk threads unraveled. A talisman flared, forming a shield—cracked under the impact.
The formation shifted. Five spectral swords descended.
Golden light flared as the monument spirit shielded him.
"Impossible!" the Daoist cried.
"Your end," Lu Chen replied.
Runes ignited. The blade fell.
A bell tolled across heaven and earth.
The formation collapsed. Five disciples were flung back, vomiting blood.
The Daoist lay pierced through the chest.
Less than three minutes.
Loot: forty points.
"Distribute," Lu Chen said.
Yet he knew—
This was only the beginning.
They moved west, toward the Ancient Timber Forest.
And behind them, Bai Yunsheng watched, eyes cold.
"Lin Xiao… I will make you despair."