Pyradine City never truly slept. Even in the quiet, bruised hours of dawn, when mist clung to the cobblestones like a shroud, there was movement. Cultivators chased opportunity; merchants chased profit; and mercenaries chased survival.
Among them was Liang Shi.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and mapped with scars, Liang Shi looked like a man who had been hammered and reforged by life itself. Across his back rested a heavy blade, its edge nicked and worn. He wasn't a noble scion or a pampered genius. He was an iron-blood mercenary who had clawed his way into becoming a first-rate fighter through sheer, dogged diligence.
He belonged to the Iron Bone Caravan Guard, a loose collective of wanderers who made their living on the razor's edge. Their work was simple and lethal: escorting goods through monster-infested ridges, hunting demon beasts for marrow and hide, and accepting the high-risk commissions that the sects considered beneath them.
One successful mission could make them rich. One lapse in concentration could get them buried.
"Listen up!" barked a middle-aged man with a jagged scar bisecting his face. "Today's route passes through Blackwind Ridge. Reports say demon beast activity is up forty percent."
Liang Shi frowned. Blackwind Ridge was never simple.
"Formation stays tight!" the leader continued. "If anything happens—protect the cargo first!"
A few mercenaries grumbled. "Of course… goods first, lives later."
"Shut up," Liang Shi muttered, checking his whetstone. "At least goods don't complain when they die."
"…That's because goods don't die, you idiot."
A few days prior, while nursing a cup of sour wine at a roadside stall, Liang Shi had overheard a frantic conversation.
"Have you heard? There's a place in the West District… some 'Origins Dungeon Hall'…"
"Ah! That scam shop? I heard the owner is a vulture."
"Scam your ancestor! I went there—I almost died ten times in a single hour!"
"…Are you bragging or complaining?"
"Both!"
At first, Liang Shi dismissed it. But then he heard another man say, "My reaction speed doubled in a day." And someone else whispered the line that finally hooked him: "You can experience life and death… without actually dying."
For a mercenary, that wasn't entertainment. That was a tactical advantage.
The First Descent
The next day, Liang Shi stepped into the shop. It looked as if a strong wind would collapse it. He saw Yuan Bi—lazy, unbothered, and seemingly indifferent to whether his customers lived or died.
"You're the owner?" Liang Shi asked.
"Yes."
"Your shop… sounds like a scam."
"Then don't play."
Liang Shi's eye twitched. "Fine. If it's fake, I'll smash your counter."
Yuan Bi pointed at the sign. "Seven crystals."
"…You rob people in broad daylight?"
"Yes."
"…I respect the honesty."
He entered the dungeon. He laughed at the "fake" world for exactly three seconds. Then, a zombie lunged.
Three seconds later, he died.
Five seconds later, he was back in the chair.
Ten minutes later, he died again.
"WHAT KIND OF DEMON PLACE IS THIS?!" Liang Shi roared.
From a nearby throne, Min Luan didn't even open his eyes. "WELCOME TO HELL, BROTHER!"
Unlike the young masters, Liang Shi didn't complain for long. He adapted. Fast. He analyzed every death, every wrong angle, every failed retreat. While others screamed, he grew quiet. Cold. Focused.
Even Yuan Bi glanced at him once, noting the shift in his aura. "…This one's different."
Days later, Liang Shi stood in the howling winds of Blackwind Ridge. The caravan moved with agonizing slowness. Suddenly, a roar shattered the silence.
"AMBUSH!"
From the surrounding cliffs, wolf-beasts with burning eyes and jagged fangs charged down. They were fast, organized, and starving. The front line broke instantly. A mercenary screamed as a beast tore into his shoulder. Blood sprayed the dust.
"Formation!" the leader roared, but chaos had already taken hold.
Then, Liang Shi moved.
He didn't panic. He didn't freeze. He had seen this exact scenario a hundred times—not here, but in the dark corridors of the dungeon.
Left flank collapsing. Three beasts approaching. One injured ally behind me. His mind processed the battlefield like a map. A beast lunged; he sidestepped with surgical efficiency. Slash. His blade severed its neck. Another attacked; he ducked, countered, and killed.
"HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?!" a mercenary screamed, struggling just to stay upright.
Liang Shi didn't answer. He didn't have the breath to spare. A massive alpha beast appeared, its claws tearing through iron armor like wet paper. A young mercenary froze in terror as the beast lunged. It was too fast, too sudden.
But Liang Shi moved first. He stepped in, not back. Just like the dungeon taught him. He angled his body, let the claws whistle past his ear, and drove his heavy blade upward through the beast's jaw into its brain.
It collapsed instantly.
The Aftermath
The battlefield went silent. The mercenaries stared at Liang Shi, who stood over the carcass, breathing steadily as blood dripped from his steel.
"…What the hell was that?"
"Since when were you this strong, Liang Shi?"
Liang Shi wiped his blade. "…I just died more than you did."
"???"
The caravan survived, but only because one man had held the line with a calm that bordered on the supernatural. That night, Liang Shi returned to the shop. He pushed open the door and placed a handful of crystals on the counter.
"Back already?" Min Luan joked. "Didn't die in real life, I see."
Liang Shi sat down and looked at Yuan Bi. "Can you give me more time?"
"Rules," Yuan Bi replied, eyes on his tea.
"…Tch."
Liang Shi paused, then added, "I'll bring the rest of my squad tomorrow."
Yuan Bi's eyes flickered slightly. "…Good."
Liang Shi donned the helm. As the darkness of the trial claimed him, he realized a profound truth. This place wasn't a game. It was a forge. It was a battlefield where the weak died repeatedly—until they finally learned how to live.
End of Chapter 9