Fifth-Level World: Archipelago
Sixth-Level World: Deep Sea
These two worlds were clearly connected as a continuous progression. The Archipelago came first, naturally preparing challengers for the Deep Sea of the Sixth-Level World. Most monsters that human challengers faced here were marine creatures, though islands did have some native land-based foes, but they were not abundant.
Ruins and treasure chests mostly appeared on islands or the nearby seabed. The world's boundary lay in the deep sea, where higher-tier ruins emerged. As with other worlds, the harsher the environment, the better the rewards.
However, Wei Huan's goal this time was not opening chests, so he stayed in the highway's center lane. The monsters attracted this way would not be particularly high-level.
Even so, watching the white-capped waves surge from the coastline, Wei Huan felt a twinge of tension. This was his first encounter with Fifth-Level monsters.
"Status buffs?" Mu Zhong asked.
They had agreed before entering the assessment that Mu Zhong's attribute states would be applied only after confirmation, and Bloodlust blessings would be saved for critical moments.
Yet, gazing at the menacing sea beast army, Mu Zhong's expression was grave.
Wei Huan shook his head.
"Let's test both sides' combat strength first. Housekeeper, record everything."
"Affirmative, Commander."
Shortly after the undead army filled the coastline, the sea beast army finally appeared.
Leading the charge were the fastest: sharks.
Triangular dorsal fins sliced the sea surface like skyward blades. The wide gaps between them indicated enormous size.
Of course, these were not Blue Star sharks—they only resembled them. Challenge World monsters were not earthly beasts. These sharks swam swiftly in water and fought just as capably on land—though they were even stronger in the sea.
They knew their weaknesses, but the world's will overrode them. Their sole objective was to destroy the war vehicle and kill everyone inside.
At over a thousand meters from shore, the lead shark slapped its tail like a drawn bowstring and launched from the water.
As it closed in, Wei Huan's expression shifted slightly.
Ocean-world sea beasts were visibly larger.
This shark rivaled a humpback whale—over ten meters long. Its skin was black with a faint purple sheen, like a deep-sea assassin. A single horn protruded from its conical skull, and its teeth—interlocking, razor-sharp, denser and more terrifying than any earthly shark—lined a gaping maw.
Most fearsome were the fins on both sides of its belly: three massive ones per side. As it leaped, they paddled, generating a strange force that propelled its bulky frame far beyond expectation.
A thousand meters was crossed effortlessly. It crashed amid the undead.
BOOM!
Dozens of Facehuggers were instantly crushed back to the Grand Tomb.
Anyone assuming these sharks would flop helplessly on land like Blue Star fish would be gravely mistaken.
Supernatural energy flowed over its body, a thin liquid film keeping its skin slick as if still submerged. Even its ponderous frame moved as though underwater.
It snapped its jaws—devouring over a dozen Facehuggers in one bite.
Its tail whipped and smashed; undead behind it shattered instantly.
Undead flanking from the sides? The six belly fins slid fluidly; it spun half a circle with aquatic grace.
Bite. Tail smash.
In moments, no undead could approach.
And this was just the first—not the only one.
As a common low-tier sea beast in the Archipelago, sharks were plentiful.
The first cleared a circle; more leaped ashore in succession—same maneuver, spin, and the attack radius was empty of undead.
These were only the fastest.
Next came a new species: flying fish, half a meter long.
They erupted from the sea like rain—dense, faster than sharks, with greater impact.
Each bore a vicious tri-edged horn, razor-sharp on all sides. Paired with weapon-hard fins, they were living flying daggers.
Zombie Berserk Bears boasted incredible defense, yet flying fish sliced through their pelts.
Some pierced with tri-horns, then twisted—laterally gutting a bear. Rotten entrails spilled in a cascade. One strike drained most durability; death loomed.
The third species, sea snake beasts, inflicted less damage on the undead.
Their primary attack was venom. Undead were immune—Zombie Berserk Bears' rot poison rivaled sea snakes'.
Against undead, the colorful serpents had only constriction.
But this was the Fifth-Level World; Wei Huan's undead were Fourth-Level.
Undead were inherently weaker without buffs.
Sea snakes still wrought significant casualties.
Then came colorful fish resembling Blue Star tropical species—beautiful.
They expelled bubbles that exploded with the force of a Sequence Five punch.
In dense volleys, undead died in swathes.
Finally came the giant octopuses, long feared as deep-sea horrors.
Over twenty-meter tentacles rose from the ocean, flailing forward. Lesser sea beasts parted; stragglers were suction-cupped and devoured by allies.
Slimy, soft, and menacing—they crawled ashore.
Frontline beasts cleared undead too quickly; unopposed, they slithered over sand toward the war vehicle.
Octopuses camouflaged, shifting to sandy gold—only black suction cups remained distinct.
A cup lifted and slammed down, cratering half a meter deep.
Their repulsive form and size drew all eyes.
From the sky, Wei Huan surveyed both forces.
Unlike probing skirmishes elsewhere, he most anticipated Shura Horse's performance.
As dark beasts' "war weapon," Shura Horse was the most cost-effective main fighter—devastatingly lethal.
Above them were only Dual-Headed Shadow Demons.
Wei Huan could not yet recruit those.
Their soul flames carried arrogance he disliked.
1 point of Dark Dominion could not fully subjugate them.
The Shura Horse's showing would shape his Archipelago strategy.
At Wei Huan's command, four-star Sequence Four Shura Horses neighed "Ho-ho-ho," hooves thundering. They charged as warhorses, colliding head-on with Fifth-Level octopuses.
BOOM!
True back-and-forth combat began.
Seven or eight Shura Horses encircled one octopus. Claws extended golden Geng-metal power, piercing tough hide. They climbed toward the head.
Eight tentacles whipped in sequence—sand and stone flew. Tentacles rubbed together, trying to dislodge Shura Horses.
Some were caught, crushed, pulped—returned to the Tomb.
But more hooked claws into flesh before impact. The harder the octopus struck, the deeper the wounds.
In blinks, tentacles severed—twitching on the ground.
Agile Shura Horses leaped to heads, ravaging vulnerable spots.
Best was Moji.
Stronger and smaller—he dodged tentacles effortlessly.
On the brain: six upper-arm claws stabbed, ripped.
RRRIP!
Tough flesh tore; transparent cartilage and quivering brain exposed.
Moji—youthful face, excited eyes—smashed the skull and dove into the marrow, wrecking havoc.
The octopus resisted desperately—tentacles twisted like rope.
But a mere Fifth-Level monster was no match for a hero unit. It was pinned and ground.
Soon convulsions ceased. It was dead.
Moji emerged from brain matter and suddenly eyed Xu Qingqiang.
Xu Qingqiang swallowed flooding saliva.
So much seafood—smells amazing!!
He looked for Wei Huan amid sky Demon Eye Lords—too many eyes.
He endured, knowing this battle tested strengths. Later there would be all-you-can-eat seafood.
Wei Huan watched gravely, comparing undead species vs. sea beasts.
Swarm tactics remained viable.
With enough numbers—no buffs—he could clear common sea beasts.
Hero units achieved easy 1v1 dominance over normals.
Gut-Bro, Big Bear, and Moji led damage.
But Moji disobeyed. After two octopuses, bored—it ignored orders and joined Facehuggers slaughtering sharks.
With Moji, its path became a corpse road.
It splashed into the sea—frolicked minutes, killed who-knows-how-many—then bounded back.
Wei Huan thought playtime was over—until giant pincers chased.
Ah. The big seafood—no, a king-tier crawfish sea beast.
This Crawfish King had spawned yesterday afternoon. It pursued, was shaken off, teleported near—periodically surfacing to snap the vehicle with massive claws.
Devastating power.
Level 6 shield: shattered in one hit.
But attacks needed charge—post-strike rigidity. Plus shield retaliation.
Cycle: snap → shocked → teleport → snap. Grilled shrimp scent filled the air.
Each emergence drew a collective gulp from the crew.
Liu Chengzhi wiped drool: "Complaint to Challenge World—why no corpses after kills?"
The crawfish rose slowly—fierce, colorful, spiky.
But instantly everyone thought: pepper salt or blanched.
King-tier arrival tensed the air.
Mu Zhong readied. Dou Lin—white gloves, fists clenched—tiptoed beside Wei Huan.
But against a powerful king, Wei Huan used no abilities.
Assessment kings were above silver-chest monsters, below gold—suppressed for Fifth-Level rookies.
If Wei Huan couldn't solo a silver chest, he'd cower in future worlds.
Unacceptable.
Even in Fifth-Level—pressure on Sequence Four—he needed combat viability to act freely post-assessment.
Solo-killing this king was crucial.
At his order, the undead charged.
Only now did the crew grasp their commander's might.
Coastline slaughter continued—undead vs. sea beasts.
But visible undead were only the iceberg tip.
Reviving Swift Wolves—led by Gut-Bro—split and flanked.
They formed a disciplined legion: perfect formation at full sprint.
Flanks pierced simultaneously with frontal Zombie Berserk Bears.
The king was besieged on three sides.
This was the vanguard only.
Sky-hovered Ghost Crows and Demon Eye Lords descended.
Crow soul shrieks pierced the king.
Demon Eye black beams rained.
The king lived up to its name.
Undead numbers were mere scrapes.
Every joint was weaponized.
Plus fish-like bubble attacks.
BANG! BANG!
Explosions insta-killed defensive Bears.
Surroundings were crippled.
Swift Wolf losses were horrific.
It was the longest undead death toll in ages.
Revives couldn't keep pace. The king advanced.
Bubbles were sustainable spam.
Worthy king dark beast.
New crew—who had marveled at numbers—sweated again.
Wei Huan knew it was time to stop holding back.
He issued a mental command.
Flying Monkeys dropped—their docile faces twisted, shrieking: "SCREECH!!"
Attributes surged. Undead casualties slowed. The king halted.
Same bubbles were no longer one-shots.
Known truth: fail to insta-kill Wei Huan's undead → counterkill time.
This was the undead calamity.
Huge Dot Mom appeared—guardian above the vehicle.
Burrow Beast Mothers from her abdomen encircled it. Attacks hit them first.
A glance revealed over 3,000—sky and ground dense.
Dot Mom, after devouring enough, self-produced more.
Their Facehuggers were released: a Star Wars swarm—sky-blotted, scalp-numbing.
Facehuggers flew.
No ground positioning. They yielded the floor and flea-jumped.
Leap. Rush. Latch. Tear.
"SCREECH!!"
Another Monkey roar.
Enhanced Facehuggers wounded the king.
Tiny cuts were needles.
Tens of thousands became nightmare torture.
The king ignored bubbles, flailed to dislodge "fleas".
Agony.
This was a fatal mistake.
Compared to Swift Wolves, Bears, and charging Shura Horses—flea pain was nothing.
There were no regrets.
It was too late: a ferocious undead flood arrived.
Heroes—green auras, Flying Monkeys—tanked fiercest blows.
They endured 3–5 hits while elsewhere wounds accumulated fatally.
Frantic struggle. It rolled. It self-bubbled.
Undead died in sheets—but the king bled profusely.
This was not the end.
Revived undead returned.
The nightmare was reborn.
It called sea beast reinforcements.
Few arrived—undead sliced them. Survivors were crippled.
If free, it would flee.
Challenge-controlled: fight to death.
It struggled up. It ignored crawling undead and its dismembering body.
It raised a ten-meter forelimb—colorful, spiked, shield-shattering.
As it lifted, Wei Huan and Mu Zhong simultaneously shouted: "Shield up!"
Next second: the limb tip launched.
Over 1,000 meters away—yet the devastating arc arrived.
It was blocked by a Burrow Beast Mother.
BOOM! BOOM!
Evolved mothers were torn apart at ten meters. Seven or eight were instant-Tombed.
Terrifying. But finite.
Mothers absorbed energy. The arc weakened and slowed.
After four more deaths: it vanished. Exhausted.
"Eeee~~!"
Dot Mom's triumphant cry.
More mothers converged.
A second arc followed. It had two limbs.
Useless.
Even shield-shattering power was rapidly diluted by intercepts. It never touched the vehicle shield.
The king raised both arms—froze, staring.
Until a Facehugger latched its brain and bit an eye.
'POP!'
'Eyeburst.'
'THUD.'
The king collapsed.
Its undead-covered body had been dismantled unknowingly.
The hard shell resisted—until self-bubbles cracked it.
Facehuggers found their entry.
It was dead.
Wei Huan soloed it.
He cleared the day-long horde.
The vehicle was light again—and they could depart.