The Origins Illusion Hall had officially lost its dignity.
If a passing cultivator stumbled in now, they wouldn't see a sanctuary for high-level mental tempering. They'd see a rowdy tavern at midnight—full of sweat, shouting, and people who looked like they'd forgotten how to blink.
"Move it! My turn! I've been smelling your unwashed robes for two hours!"
"You died in three breaths, Liu! That wasn't a 'run,' that was a suicide. It doesn't count!"
"Shameless! Even the zombies would feel awkward biting you!"
Inside the chaos, Min Luan was standing on a chair, his face a shade of red that suggested he might actually explode. He was waving his arms like a madman.
"I'm telling you! Today is the day. Ten breaths. I'm going to put that Hunter in the dirt in ten breaths!"
Bu Fan didn't even look up as he polished his glasses. "You said that yesterday. And the day before. Actually, you've said that every day since you discovered you could die without actually dying."
Min Luan choked on his own words. "This time... the vibes are different!"
Wu Feng, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed, let out a short, dry laugh. "Oh? Did the Hunter promise to stand still and let you hit him this time?"
The hall erupted. Even Yuan Bi, tucked away behind the counter, let a small, tired sigh escape. Hopeless.
The four thrones sat in the center of the madness, looking far too elegant for the people currently fighting over them.
"Enter," Yuan Bi's voice cut through the noise.
Wu Feng, Min Luan, Bu Fan, and Lu Dong took their seats. The metal helms lowered with a heavy hiss, and four souls vanished into the machine.
The transition was always a slap in the face. One moment, they were in a loud hall; the next, they were breathing in the scent of wet stone and rotting meat.
"Formation," Wu Feng snapped. The playful banter was gone. In here, the stakes felt too real.
"Relax!" Min Luan grunted, hefting his weapon. "I'll carry this."
"You'll carry… your own teeth home in a bag," Bu Fan muttered, eyes scanning the shadows.
BOOM.
The doors burst. A tide of grey, decaying flesh flooded the corridor.
"LEFT!"
"WATCH THE FLANK!"
"WHY ARE THERE MORE THAN LAST TIME?!"
Wu Feng moved like a cold breeze—precise, quiet, efficient. Min Luan, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of wasted energy. He swung wildly, shattering floorboards and stone, hitting everything except the things trying to eat him.
"I GOT ONE!" Min Luan roared.
CRUNCH.
"AHHH! IT GOT MY SHOULDER! GET IT OFF!"
Outside, the crowd was losing it. The projection showed Min Luan spinning in circles with a zombie latched onto his arm like a decorative sleeve.
"He's not fighting them," someone yelled, doubled over with laughter. "He's providing them with a buffet!"
The doors of the Hall groaned open. The laughter died down a notch.
Liang Shi walked in, his mercenary team trailing behind him like a well-oiled machine. Beside him was Zhao Tianlong. He didn't look at the crowd; his eyes were fixed on the screen, watching the chaos of the first group.
He wasn't laughing. He was counting.
Inside the dungeon, the mood shifted.
Tap… tap… tap…
The sound of the Hunter's boots on the stone floor chilled the air.
"IT'S HERE!" Min Luan screamed. "RUN—NO, WAIT—STAB IT—AHHH!"
Total, pathetic collapse.
Wu Feng held his ground for six breaths. Bu Fan tried to bait the monster into a trap. Lu Dong just tried to stay behind a pillar. It didn't matter. In a blur of black steel and cold efficiency, the Hunter ended them.
The helms lifted.
Min Luan sat up, gasping for air. "I almost had his rhythm! Did you see? I almost parried!"
"You lasted three breaths," Bu Fan said, his voice flat.
"That's double my record!" Min Luan shouted, completely unashamed.
The Shift
Without a word, Liang Shi pay and stepped forward. He didn't wait for the chairs to cool off. He just sat. His men followed.
Zhao Tianlong took the last seat. He glanced at Min Luan—not with mockery, but with a terrifyingly focused intensity.
"Watch," was all he said.
The difference was like night and day.
Where the first group screamed, this group was silent. Where Min Luan flailed, Liang Shi's team carved a path. They didn't move like players in a game; they moved like soldiers in a war.
The crowd went silent. The "marketplace" was gone. This was a masterclass.
When the Hunter appeared, Zhao Tianlong didn't run. He stepped into the strike.
CLANG!
Steel met steel. He was blown back, his boots screaming against the stone, but he stayed upright.
"Now," Liang Shi commanded.
They didn't win. They weren't strong enough yet. But they stayed alive long enough to make the Hunter work for it.
The Hidden Hand
Behind the counter, Yuan Bi's eyes weren't on the fight. He was looking at a translucent blue interface only he could see.
[Task: Player Kill Threshold Reached]
[Unlock Status: 12%]
[Reward: New Dungeon- Beast Realm]
His fingers drummed on the wood.
To these people, this was a game, a challenge, or a way to get stronger. To him, every drop of "virtual" blood spilled was fuel. Every time they died and came back hungrier, the completion on the next Dungeon would achieve faster.
"The Beast Realm," Yuan Bi whispered to the empty air.
The second group stepped out of the machines, drenched in sweat and shaking from the adrenaline.
Zhao Tianlong stood up, his knuckles white. "…Not enough. We need more speed."
Wu Feng nodded from across the room, the rivalry finally turning into something colder and more useful. "Tomorrow."
"I'LL BEAT ALL OF YOU!" Min Luan yelled, breaking the tension.
"You'll beat the floor," Bu Fan sighed.
The Hall slowly emptied, the sun setting outside. Yuan Bi watched them leave, his shadow stretching long across the floor.
The next stage was coming. And he was the only one who knew that the "monsters" in the next dungeon wouldn't be content staying behind a screen forever.
End of chapter