Zhang Ling grew tired after only a few minutes. He lay down on his back, eyes drifting upward toward the moon. A weary yawn escaped his lips. There was something almost transcendent about it: the ethereal beauty of the night sky, the cool grass beneath him, the open field stretching endlessly in every direction—a field where he could be cut down at any moment. That particular edge made the sensation sit a full step above anything else he had ever felt.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Distant explosions reverberated through the stillness. Somewhere out there, Unawakened were tearing into each other. Each detonation painted a rough picture of how the game was unfolding. Zhang Ling listened, reading the battle through sound alone.

  After what felt like nothing, something sliced through the corner of his vision—an arrow, arcing lazily through the night sky. He had noticed it despite the darkness. Instinctively, he rolled to the right. The shaft buried itself into the dirt where his head had been. A second later, more came streaking down in quick succession, each one a little closer, forcing him off his back and onto his feet.

  Locating the assailant was trivial; the fool was practically announcing his position with every shot. Zhang Ling’s eyes narrowed on a tree. He lunged forward, intent on closing the distance—

  Rumble. Rumble.

  The very ground shuddered violently, as if gripped by a localized earthquake. Zhang Ling halted, senses flaring. He focused inward, observing the map of the realm. Barely three hours had passed since the last contraction.

  Yet, it was already shrinking again.

  This defied all prior patterns. Previously, the safe zone contracted but once daily. It only triggered once every twenty-four hours.

  ‘Is the Fragment accelerating the game? Perhaps because the top fifty competitors have already been determined.’

  Zhang Ling dashed toward the tree, his sword cleaving through the trunk in a single slash. He gave it a firm kick, sending it crashing down on the far side. From within, a youth scrambled out, his face obscured by dark cloth. Without hesitation, he hurled a round artifact at the ground between them.

  Boom!

  An explosive artifact, naturally. He died as alone as he had fought.

  Zhang Ling didn't spare the chest so much as a glance. He slid his sword back into its scabbard and cradled it loosely against his side—almost as though he were hugging it—then turned and walked at a leisurely pace toward the safe zone. Behind him, the contracting boundary devoured the land in greedy, rolling waves of disintegration.

  As he walked, he noted the streams of other Unawakened converging on the same narrow corridor of safety. Without a long-range weapon, engaging them from a distance was not an option. Reaching the safe zone had to come first. But—

  Shiuuu—

  Thok. Thok. Thok.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Just because Zhang Ling lacked a ranged weapon didn't mean the others shared that disadvantage.

  As more and more Unawakened were funneled together, conflict ignited on all sides. Arrows rained from above. Weapons rang against each other in sharp, overlapping clashes. And threading through it all were the explosives—the most indiscriminate killers of the three—unpredictable enough that even Zhang Ling gave them due respect, abandoning his casual stride for a full sprint.

  Out of nowhere, a figure appeared directly in front of him, blade already raised. "Die—"

  An arrow punched through the back of his skull before the word finished leaving his mouth.

  Zhang Ling tracked the trajectory and found the source. Up on a high branch stood Lu Yi. He worked both arms simultaneously—one conjuring arrows, the other manifesting explosives—methodically bombarding the densest clusters of Unawakened below him. The arrows missed occasionally, but the explosives compensated.

  Zhang Ling couldn’t suppress a harsh laugh. The monster was genuinely clever. But cleverness had its ceiling, and Lu Yi appeared to have slightly miscalculated the crowd beneath him, because within moments the bombardment reversed direction.

  An explosive struck the very tree Lu Yi occupied, obliterating it entirely. The burning remains cascaded downward as the monster launched himself skyward, landing with surprising grace several feet away.

  Zhang Ling's excitement surged as he broke into a sprint toward him.

  His charge was interrupted. Another Unawakened, seizing the chaos, hurled a glass flask at his feet. He twisted hard, throwing himself sideways, but not fast enough. The detonation scorched his entire right side. Fragments of glass drove deep into the skin. He hissed through clenched teeth.

  Zhang Ling gritted his teeth against the agony and retrieved his healing pills. He consumed half their number in a single gulp, then extracted the embedded shrapnel. The wounds closed grudgingly. He turned to find the thrower—the Unawakened had chosen to stand their ground rather than flee. A mistake. He died quickly.

  Zhang Ling finally reached Lu Yi. Several others had gotten there first—Hua Yong, Zhu Yan, and the Chen brothers were already pressing him from multiple angles.

  Lu Yi slipped another slash, snapped a short jab into Chen Yuan's chin that clicked his teeth together, then pivoted immediately as Hua Yong drove a spear in from the side. Lu Yi caught the shaft mid-thrust, yanked Hua Yong off balance, and used the momentum to launch him into an advancing Unawakened. He finished the collision with a brutal double-legged drop kick.

  Both bodies tumbled toward Zhang Ling, who caught and unceremoniously shoved them aside.

  Hua Yong glanced backward. "Zhang Ling! Ha! You've finally arrived!" His voice bellowed across the battlefield, carrying sufficiently for every Unawakened to hear. The underlying message was subtle yet unmistakable: The clan leader’s son is fighting here, back off.

  Of course, some of them still had plans.

  The momentary distraction, however brief, was enough.

  In the space of a single turned head, Chen Tao caught a spinning elbow that snapped his guard open, followed immediately by a dagger drawn across his throat in a smooth line. He crumpled without a sound.

  The remaining Unawakened stepped back collectively, parting the way. They understood. They were not winning this regardless.

  Lu Yi studied the approaching Zhang Ling, tilting his head with faint amusement, one hand absently rubbing his chin. 'The Zhang family...'

  Zhang Ling caught the subtle shift in the entity's posture—the amused tilt, the slight loosening of the shoulders. He didn't waste another breath on observation. He settled into his sword stance, gripping the hilt with both hands, feet spreading into the earth.

  Across from him, two small daggers shimmered into Lu Yi's hands.

  A beat of silence passed between them.

  Swish.

  Swoosh.

  They lunged simultaneously.

  Clang! Clang!

  Zhang Ling opened with a horizontal sweep, left to right—Lu Yi deflected it outward with minimal effort. Zhang Ling followed with a left kick at the ribs; Lu Yi raised his right arm and blocked the blow. Seizing the opening, Lu Yi stabbed for the extended leg. Zhang Ling’s own blade thrust forward in a counter, only to be met and deflected by Lu Yi’s second dagger.

  Zhang Ling utilized the momentum to throw himself backward, preserving his leg. The instant he regained equilibrium, he attacked anew.

  Lu Yi considered something for a fraction of a second—then stepped in to meet him. He met him step for step, then abruptly changed tempo. He hurled a dagger straight at Zhang Ling’s face.

  Clang!

  Zhang Ling batted it aside—and the second dagger came immediately after on a different angle. He barely twisted clear. But behind the daggers was Lu Yi himself: he drove a precise kick into Zhang Ling's sword wrist, then used his right hand to grab the blade by its flat, and raked it sideways, opening Zhang Ling's guard. His left fist landed square on the jaw before the guard could recover.

  Thok!

  The jab landed and sent Zhang Ling staggering backward. Lu Yi prepared to follow with a kick to Zhang Ling's chest.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  At that precise moment, an arrow cut through the air from somewhere behind. Pressing hard against Zhang Ling's chest, Lu Yi backflipped, landing behind the arrow as it whistled past, striking Zhang Ling and sending him reeling backward, the projectile embedding in his shoulder.

  “You fool! What are you doing?!” Hua Yong roared at the masked archer.

  He understood immediately when he saw the covered faces.

  They recognized that the monster was formidable, but Zhang Ling possessed comparable strength. Under normal circumstances, Zhang Ling would undoubtedly claim the final survivor position; no competitor possessed sufficient strength to defeat him. But now?

  What if the monster and Zhang Ling annihilated each other? Even if they didn't, who could predict what state they'd be left in after such a confrontation? If that occurred, who would claim the final survivor title?

  The door to first place was open for anyone.

  Including them.

  Zhang Ling stood motionless for a moment, the ambient sounds of battle washing over him.

  Shlick.

  The arrow was extracted without any cry. He looked at the entity across the field, who tilted its head in what might have been a slow, mocking laugh.

  Zhang Ling's fury ignited. He sprinted forward without hesitation. Lu Yi braced for another attack, but it never came.

  Zhang Ling did not sprint toward Lu Yi. He turned and went for the masked Unawakened instead. Lu Yi, for his part, did not give chase. He turned back to Hua Yong and the others.

  Two metal spheres materialized in front of the group.

  As the battle shifted direction once again, the survivor count plummeted once again.

  "Aargh—my hand—!"

  Zhang Ling had taken one's hand clean off at the wrist. The youth scrambled frantically toward his robe with his remaining hand, grasping for a healing pill. Zhang Ling pinned that hand to the ground with his blade.

  "Ahhh—!"

  He pried the pill loose, inspected it once, and swallowed it himself.

  A dozen meters behind him, Lu Yi stood perfectly upright, Chen Yuan's neck suspended in one relaxed hand.

  Snap.

  The corpse dissolved into a chest.

  Lu Yi glanced at the survivor count.

  [4/500]

  The safe zone had been contracting relentlessly, forcing everyone into the open.

  Now, only four remained.

  One of the remaining Unawakened threw a flask at Zhang Ling—a familiar tactic by now. This time, Zhang Ling was well ahead of it. He angled his sword and deflected cleanly, sending the flask sailing into the disintegrating territory below. It detonated somewhere in the void.

  No choice remained but direct confrontation. The Unawakened charged Zhang Ling, sword raised. Their weapons clashed—and surprisingly, the Unawakened held his ground against Zhang Ling himself. Just for a moment, though. It was not enough.

  On the other hand, Lu Yi faced the remaining Unawakened. He discerned that she was female. Lu Yi had no desire to waste further time. He moved his finger in a beckoning gesture, inviting her attack.

  Yin Mei had somehow advanced this far, but she remained uncertain how to proceed. She stood frozen in front of the entity, her legs rooted in place, her mind cycling through options.

  Seeing her hesitate, Lu Yi simply moved first. A powerful right hook shot toward her temple, meant to end it quickly.

  Forcing herself to react, she thrust her blade forward.

  Lu Yi sidestepped. His fist landed perfectly.

  She staggered, attempting to regain her balance, but what followed next was devastating.

  Another left hook followed by a left roundhouse kick then a right roundhouse kick, finally concluding with a back kick.

  She collapsed several feet away. Her head spun. Her body ached, yet somehow, remained conscious.

  She stayed down and waited for him to approach.

  A dagger materialized in Lu Yi's grip as he closed the distance. He would finish it cleanly.

  The moment she felt his shadow fall over her, seeing her chance, she phased through him—her naked body passing through his form as she materialized directly behind him.

  She sought to break his neck in one fluid motion.

  Her soft hands clasped around his throat. Lu Yi's eyes widened—shock rippling through him. He understood nothing of what had occurred, but survival instinct screamed. He jumped backward, his entire body weight crushing Yin Mei beneath him. Her head struck both Lu Yi's skull and the hard ground, bouncing twice before she succumbed to unconsciousness.

  Lu Yi twisted free the instant he hit the ground, rolled, and drove the dagger into her heart without ceremony.

  She held on for a few ragged seconds before she was gone.

  Only Lu Yi and Zhang Ling remained.

  [2/500]

  Zhang Ling stood over the body of his own final opponent, wiping his blade. Only the two of them remained.

  "So, you are also considered a player in this game." Zhang Ling said. It wasn't entirely a question.

  Lu Yi straightened. "Am I not allowed to be?" he responded with another question.

  Zhang Ling blinked once, caught slightly off guard. "You can speak?" He tilted his head, genuine curiosity threading into his voice. "How can you speak? I have never once heard or encountered your species. Is your kind extinct?"

  "You are quite talkative, aren't you?"

  "Haha—it seems I got a little carried away." Zhang Ling's smile was easy, unguarded.

  "Why don't you come at me?" Lu Yi spread his arms wide in invitation.

  Zhang Ling rolled his shoulder slowly, working out the stiffness from the wound. "You don't want to engage? I understand. I know you are more skilled than I am in close quarters." He paused, letting that admission sit comfortably. "So instead, let me show you something different. That ability of yours, materializing weapons from nothing, that is your soul gift, yes? Would you like to know what mine is?"

  Lu Yi didn’t say anything.

  "I will tell you regardless. Its name is Aromatic Ambers. Take a guess at what my Acolyte ability does."

  "Something to do with scent and amber, perhaps."

  "Half correct."

  Zhang Ling extended his hand palm-upward. A small flame bloomed above his skin—a tiny, perfect tongue of orange, wavering without a source of fuel.

  "I see—you meant ember, not amber."

  "No." Zhang Ling's expression carried genuine delight. "My soul gift is indeed called Aromatic Ambers, not Aromatic Embers. Fascinating, isn't it?" He closed his fist. The flame died without a trace of smoke.

  "And you are telling me this because?"

  "No reason."

  ‘Lies.’ Lu Yi knew immediately. A cultivator of Zhang Ling's pedigree would never disclose his Soul Gift and ability without purpose. There had to be a motive.

  The realm continued its quiet collapse around them, the edges of the world crumbling into fine, glittering dust at a pace that made the space between them feel smaller with every breath.

  "Very well. Evaluate this."

  Zhang Ling positioned his fingers into an intricate hand sign, his posture tightening almost imperceptibly.

  "Aromatic Ambers."

  A single spark ignited between his curled fingers. It sat there for a heartbeat—no bigger than a grain of rice—then began to grow. Slowly, inevitably, it expanded from a pinpoint to a gleaming pearl, spinning at an abnormal speed for something so small. The light it cast was deep and amber-warm. And with it came the smell—something unmistakably, inexplicably fruity, threaded into the air like perfume, something that could only be described as aromatic.

  Lu Yi perceived the fire pearl's threat. His hair stood on end. His strengthened senses screamed at him to interrupt.

  Lu Yi sprinted forward to intervene, but before he could reach—

  Poof!

  The flame vanished.

  Pop! Pop!

  Shlick!

  Zhang Ling's nose, eyes, and ears all ruptured simultaneously. Thin lines of dark blood traced down from each orifice, streaking his face.

  Lu Yi slowed to a stop, watching.

  "Ah." Zhang Ling staggered a step, pressing the back of his wrist to his face and drawing it away streaked red. "I failed." His voice was steady, almost philosophical. "I didn't have high expectations—but I didn't expect to fail quite this spectacularly either."

  "Is it over then?"

  "You think?" Zhang Ling looked up through the blood still threading down from his nose, and grinned. "Come. Let's finish it."

  Lu Yi resumed his run.

  Zhang Ling came forward to meet him—and threw a punch. Lu Yi slipped it with minimal movement and answered with a sharp uppercut that traveled maybe six inches. It didn't need more. The impact connected flush with Zhang Ling's jaw, and fresh blood poured from his orifices as his legs folded beneath him, dropping him to one knee.

  Lu Yi materialized a sword. "It's indeed over."

  He stepped in, angling the blade downward.

  Suddenly, Zhang Ling lunged at him with an unusual weapon. Lu Yi's eyes widened in horror as he desperately attempted to dodge.

  The weapon pierced his shoulder. In an instant, Lu Yi fell backward.

  "Hehe. This is precisely why one should always retain a trump card—"

  Crackle! Crackle! Boom!

  A column of lightning dropped from the sky without warning, striking Zhang Ling where he knelt.

  He was gone before he finished the sentence.

  For several seconds, nothing moved. The wind shifted, carrying the faint, sweet residue of the dissipated Aromatic Ambers along with the damp smell of scorched ground.

  Then Lu Yi sat up.

  He reached across his own body and gripped the weapon with his hand, drawing it free from his shoulder in one slow, even pull. He held it up briefly and stored it using the massless.

  "He was the one holding Heaven's Efface? Ren Ai truly outdid herself. I genuinely believed I had lost it."

  When Lu Yi entrusted Ren Ai with the Heaven's Efface, one of his primary intentions had been exactly this. To any cultivator with serious knowledge, Heaven's Efface read unmistakably as a weapon made to kill Lu Yi. The natural conclusion was irresistible.

  The plan: Ren Ai would approach someone powerful in the game, then use Heaven's Efface to gain trust. She'd create discord, orchestrating an extended period of killings after a certain timeframe to reduce the survivor count, while Lu Er faked his death.

  When someone ultimately used Heaven's Efface against Lu Yi, they wouldn't kill him. They would die themselves. The reason lay in one of the game's fundamental rules:

  [Outside tools or assistance are forbidden. Violators will face immediate execution.]

  Technically, Heaven's Efface qualified as an outside element since it was not obtained within the game.

  Lu Yi had already tested this theory. While eliminating the unawakened before encountering the temple, he had distributed Heaven's Efface to several of them—they all perished identically.

  The realm disintegrated gradually until it reached his feet.

  Everything transformed into dust, including Lu Yi himself.