Bai Chunian was positioned behind a ruined wall, with his retreat blocked by snipers. If he exposed even a fraction of his head beyond cover, ten sniper rounds would instantly obliterate it.
He was only seven or eight meters from Lan Bo, who had a merfolk-like figure shoulder-carrying the rocket launcher and taunting him. Ahead, over thirty confident trainees charged toward the temple. On his right, Lu Yan’s team lay in ambush. The pincer maneuver, with overwhelming numbers against him, put the instructors at a severe disadvantage—one misstep could mean annihilation at the hands of these kids.
Lan Bo lightly propped the transparent hydro-steel quad rocket launcher beside him, lifting his chin. His tail tip tapped the ground lazily. “If right now, here, you kneel and give me oral submission, I’ll go easy on you. I’ll do it in front of your kids, so you can keep your dignity.”
Bai Chunian spun his pistol in his palm and holstered it, the skull mask hiding his expression. “And if I don’t?”
Lan Bo stroked the launcher’s outer wall, smiling with certainty. “Then I’ll defeat you in front of everyone and do things I like to you. The Queens of the Caribbean all undergo a ritual to prove submission to their king, generation after generation. I’ve never done it—because I care about you.”
“But this morning, seeing the way the kids look at you—adoring, expecting, following—it made me feel you need this ritual. I should be rough with you, so they know you belong to me.”
Bai Chunian inserted his hands in his pockets, leaning slightly forward. His eyes glinted black beneath the skull mask. “What if I’m not weaker than you? You’ll leave me?”
Lan Bo’s faint brows furrowed. “I won’t. But you won’t succeed.”
Suddenly, he hoisted the rocket launcher onto his shoulder and, following the waterfall’s flow, climbed to a three-meter-high rock. Four high-explosive water rounds thundered toward Bai Chunian’s position.
The water erupted on impact, the ground beneath cratered from the blast—but Bai Chunian vanished.
He landed lightly atop a broken crossbeam of the ruins, cat-like, jumping nimbly through gunfire. Holding his comm near his lips, he whispered: “My wife’s gone rogue—she’s playing for real. Dai Ning, Zheng Yue, fall back and rendezvous with me. K, lay mines at my marked positions, detonate smoke grenades. Lorenz, find a new high point at the one-o’clock direction. Red Crab, when we retreat to the southern wasteland forest of the temple, send the fastest exit routes to everyone.”
Having been taken out of the concentrated fire early, Han Xingqian now enjoyed a quiet moment, recharged his stamina, and unscrewed a bottle of water, chatting casually over the comms. “Xiao Bai, why are you running? Go deal with Lan Bo. That last shot he fired at me didn’t hold back at all.”
Bai Chunian, eyes on the electronic map on his wrist, replied: “It’s not that I don’t want to fight, Han. Emmm… yeah, I just don’t want to fight.”
Red Crab: “If you screw us over and we can’t get off this stage, we’re done.”
Bai Chunian: “Relax, small-scale stuff.”
Dai Ning: “Shouldn’t we use M2 abilities to counterattack? Losing to these kids is unacceptable.”
Lorenz: “Being forced to use second-level abilities would be just as embarrassing.”
Bai Chunian: “We won’t fail. Trust me.”
The temple ruins were extensive. They moved through collapsed beams and brick walls, dispersing into the wasteland forest.
At the center of the forest stood a large ancient European-style altar, flanked by rows of statues in varied poses. The marble surfaces had eroded over time, pitted and worn; the central statue’s face was so damaged it was unrecognizable.
Bi Lanxing had been observing targets from behind the bulletproof fortifications, climbing down from high ground to analyze potential escape routes on the map.
After the two trainee groups merged, Lu Yan asked Bi Lanxing: “What now? We only have thirty-six left. We’ve taken out Instructor Han; the remaining six must all be instructors in disguise. How could we possibly win?”
All instructors at the IOA Alliance training base, aside from Bai Chunian and Han Xingqian, were retired operatives. No matter how experienced, even they would be intimidated facing them.
“It’s still possible.”
Since the battle began, Bi Lanxing had maintained calm and clear judgment. He thought for a moment: “We still have one support person. Lan Bo is key to our victory. I’ve noticed over these months that, no matter the situation, the instructor trainees never use differentiation abilities above J1. Could be regulations, could be pride. We need to exploit this.”
“The enemy sniper has been targeting me. I think Chunian saw me deploying tactics and wants to eliminate our command core first. We have numbers, but losing the commander would be troublesome.”
“Chunian’s command has never failed. Then we follow his lead.”
Bi Lanxing pulled some trainees from each restructured squad, mostly combat-class trainees skilled in close combat.
“Ah Yan, take Lan Bo and this squad, circle behind the wasteland forest. There’s an altar inside, Chunian’s likely there. Engage him—if you can’t take him down, at least hold him there.”
“Xiao Xun, you and them—when they’re dragging Chu-ge, try to take a shot at him if you get the chance.”
“Understood.”
Bi Lanxing reminded Lu Yan, “Make absolutely sure to protect Tan Qing and Tan Yang. They must stay close to Lan Bo—no straggling.”
Tan Qing and Tan Yang were twin AOs, remarkably alike in appearance, with pale, gentle eyes that gave a soft, bright impression.
Lu Yan nodded and led the squad away at a brisk pace.
Lan Bo yawned and lazily climbed along the ruined beams to catch up with them. He wanted everyone together—it would make it easier to assert dominance when he finally pounced on Bai Chunian.
Xiao Xun, carrying dual sniper rifles, took a separate high-ground path.
Bi Lanxing continued organizing the remaining half of the trainees.
As night fell, occasional piercing wolf howls echoed through the wasteland forest. Bai Chunian removed his mask and leaned against a marble statue, issuing orders continuously over the comms.
Lorenz and Dai Ning suddenly sent urgent requests for assistance.
Dai Ning’s close-combat skills were among the instructors’ best, while Lorenz’s famed eagle-eye marksmanship left no room for error—even under a full-scale ambush, he would remain flawless.
Bi Lanxing, however, was different. He knew the abilities of every instructor in detail. He deliberately stretched the firing lines so that the sniper squad would distract Dai Ning from a distance, while the remaining close-combat trainees charged toward Lorenz. Bi Lanxing himself led a group to completely separate the two instructors.
Over time, Bai Chunian had noticed this youth’s observation and patience exceeded that of his peers. His methods were reckless, but he understood that the instructors wouldn’t use full power and that no one on his side would truly die. He used available intelligence to plan strategies. His thinking was still idealistic, but his talent for planning and understanding the battlefield was evident. Soon, he could be taken into real combat to experience actual bloodshed.
“K, swap positions within my marked area,” Bai Chunian said.
The technical instructor K had a gland similar to reptilian glands—a rare programming-type gland. His J1 ability, “Equilibrium,” could temporarily exchange two spaces, or time, energy waves, or attributes within a range.
As K activated his ability, circular light patterns made of binary code appeared beneath Dai Ning and Lorenz. Unknown programs flowed rapidly within the circles, and the two spaces instantly swapped—Dai Ning and Lorenz exchanged positions.
The battlefield reversed. Both instructors, battered by a torrent of trainee fire, were now separated. Dai Ning faced close-combat trainees, while Lorenz began sniping against his own sniper squad, with surviving trainees dropping rapidly.
Dai Ning handled the inexperienced trainees easily but realized he was outnumbered. He whispered to Bai Chunian, “Chu-ge, not all the close-combat trainees are here. Besides those already out, there should be six missing from my sector.”
Bai Chunian lounged against the statue, wrist on knee. “Doesn’t matter—we sacrifice old K first.”
Instructor K: “?”
Bi Lanxing had long set aside an assault squad, waiting for K to expose himself using his differentiation ability. “Equilibrium” had range limits; to protect Dai Ning and Lorenz, K had no choice but to show up.
K’s real threat was his ability to deploy traps via computer—uncontrolled obstacles for the assault team. He had to be taken out first.
Bai Chunian said, “You two focus on mowing down as many little ants as you can. Don’t worry about K—he’s their target, falling into their own trap.”
Sure enough, K was hit by concentrated fire; his armor indicator turned red, signaling death.
The trainees didn’t get off easy—they sacrificed over ten just to take down one instructor.
Bi Lanxing frowned. “They’re not reinforcing—did Chu-ge see through them?”
Fortunately, he had given Lu Yan a comm device when he left, allowing Bi Lanxing to adjust the plan: Lu Yan and Xiao Xun abandoned Bai Chunian. Dragging Bai Chunian would now be left to Lan Bo and two other trainees.
Currently, five instructors and seventeen trainees remained.
Bai Chunian: “Bi Lanxing is going all-in on a suicidal tactic. They only need one survivor to win. Makes sense—these kids haven’t experienced real combat and don’t yet value life.”
Red Crab: “I’ll have to scold him later—they’re not terrorists. What the hell is he doing?”
Bai Chunian: “No need. Rules are rules, and exploiting them is a kind of wisdom. There are things he should learn—I’ll let him understand in time. For now, without sacrificing three, it’s hard to deal with them.”
Zheng Yue: “Which three?”
Bai Chunian: “You.”
A scream echoed through the comms from Zheng Yue.
Lu Yan and Xiao Xun, recalled midway, didn’t return to their original positions. Following Bi Lanxing’s instructions, they ambushed Zheng Yue.
Zheng Yue was already engaged in close combat around cover with five or six trainees. After headshotting two, Lu Yan leapt out of a black hole that appeared from thin air. The lop-eared rabbit’s J1 ability, “Cunning Rabbit’s Lair,” could instantaneously activate multiple times silently—perfect for a rear ambush.
Zheng Yue was struck and fell back to the next cover, but a dark sniper barrel appeared ten meters away, aimed at him. He moved to seize the high point for counterattack—only for Xiao Xun to suddenly leap over cover with the sniper, rolling to dodge the submachine gun fire, and at under two meters’ distance, deliver a headshot.
Bai Chunian pulled his headset slightly away—Zheng-ge had it rough. After a curse, “Damn, this kid’s a charging sniper!” he was gone.
Four instructors, fifteen trainees remained. The battle was intense; the outcome was still uncertain.
Bai Chunian: “Targets exposed—Red Crab, Lorenz, get ready.”
Lu Yan landed from the “Cunning Rabbit’s Lair” only to be suddenly seized by a tremendous force around his shoulder. Instructor Red Crab had been lying in wait, his grip like unyielding iron. Lu Yan’s agility and close-combat skill were no match once caught—he lacked the strength to break free. He felt as though he had been torn in two, bones aching and mind fading, until he went into a downed state.
Xiao Xun, too, fell to Lorenz’s headshot while leaping from cover to kill Zheng Yue.
“The rest of Red Crab is your problem now,” Bai Chunian told them. “It’s my turn.”
He tilted his head, looking up at the crumbling temple dome. Years of wind and rain had opened a large hole, exposing a black sky with a full moon hanging over the ruins. Lan Bo perched atop a broken column at the dome’s edge, his tail glinting faintly in the moonlight, casting a dangerous, alluring glow across his pale lashes and eyes.
The intensity made Bai Chunian momentarily lose focus.
Lan Bo raised a hand, tossing him a pistol and a dagger, eyes indulgent yet arrogant.
Bai Chunian didn’t pick them up. He tossed his hip holstered handgun aside, spreading his hands. “This is fine.”
Lan Bo narrowed his eyes. “You’re confident. But I’m serious.”
Squatting at the altar’s edge, Bai Chunian beckoned to him with a faint smile.
Lan Bo propped himself up on one hand, leaping down with a revolver in his left, firing five quick shots at Bai Chunian.
Bai Chunian’s form blurred, predicting the trajectories and dodging, vaulting over the ruined altar between them, landing on Lan Bo and grabbing his wrist. Steel-tipped fingers pressed against the hand, numbing the muscles instantly. The revolver fell into Bai Chunian’s hand.
Lan Bo struck Bai Chunian’s chest with his elbow, sliding out from the alpha’s grip along his slick tail, hands clutching a broken pillar. Using his arm strength, he hauled himself back to the dome.
Bai Chunian tossed the revolver aside, smiling faintly. “The wasteland forest is just sand and weeds. Come down—we’re done playing.”
“Focus,” Lan Bo’s eyes slit vertically, translucent tail sparking electricity.
The brief delay had allowed him to build up a charge. Bai Chunian moved from his original position but still felt sparks lick his arms.
Dark clouds masked the moon, pressing low over the temple. Lightning danced through the dense clouds, striking as Bai Chunian leaped to evade each bolt.
Lan Bo’s J1 ability, “Downward Torrent,” could manipulate the positive and negative electrons in the cloud layer. Once enough charge gathered, rainfall would follow, amplifying his advantage.
Bai Chunian wouldn’t allow it. He leapt onto the dome, grabbed Lan Bo by the back of the neck, pulling him down. The dome shielded Lan Bo from the clouds, which gradually dispersed.
A comm alert came—Red Crab reported the area cleared, with two trainees still hiding.
Lan Bo, initially trapped in Bai Chunian’s grasp, raised an eyebrow. “Want to know where the last two are?”
Bai Chunian stiffened slightly.
Water swirled in Lan Bo’s hands, forming a transparent hydro-steel rocket launcher. One high-explosive water round blasted Bai Chunian off him.
Bai Chunian’s back slammed against the mottled wall of the ruins. He rolled, dodging the next round. Even without direct damage, the impact of a high-explosive water round was enough to incapacitate. Had he gone down, Lan Bo could have handled the remaining three instructors effortlessly.
“I know where those two little brats are.” Bai Chunian dodged another shot and pulled a detonation remote from his waist, pressing it before Lan Bo could react.
Outside the ruins, explosions erupted. Monitors broadcasted automatically: “All trainees down. Assessment concluded. Trainees, assemble under instructor orders.”
The final two trainees had been killed by bombs K instructor had set around the ruins. Simultaneously, Lan Bo’s hydro-steel rocket launcher vanished.
“Tan Qing and Tan Yang stayed with you all along, didn’t they? That’s why you dared challenge me in the wasteland forest.”
The twins—one with a hydrogen gland, the other with an oxygen gland—didn’t have the rare dual-gland combination like the He brothers, but could combine attacks to synthesize any compound from hydrogen and oxygen, including water.
“Still, on land, you’re a little weaker. That’s fine.” Bai Chunian looped his arms around Lan Bo from behind, pressing him onto the altar. His left hand restrained Lan Bo’s hands behind his back, steel-tipped fingers locking his joints.
Lan Bo gasped, struggling and tilting his head back.
The fallen trainees had mostly gathered, forming ranks for roll call. Peering over the ruined low walls, they saw Bai Chunian pin Lan Bo beneath the collapsed main deity statue—an aggressive, dominant pose.
Lan Bo ground his teeth, glaring over his shoulder. “You’ve grown… stronger.”
“Indeed,” Bai Chunian smiled, leaning close. “To prove to everyone I belong to you, you don’t have to beat me.”
He lifted Lan Bo’s face, kissing him before all the trainees, tongue tracing his sharp teeth and cold mouth.
“This works too.”