The valley was filled with indescribable beasts. Su Cha and Fasite were as insignificant as specks of dust.
Su Cha spat out a mouthful of blood but still maintained a smile. The wheel of fortune had turned once again—this time, apparently in his favor.
Fasite re-evaluated the cost of killing Su Cha. Entering the poisonous zone would slow him down due to the toxins, and with the army on its way, he might not make it out in time. Should he retreat while the strange beasts were distracted by mating, or risk a mutual destruction to eliminate his target? The decision took less than three seconds—retreat.
Only by leaving this zone of data corruption could he re-establish his position. But getting out of the beasts’ nest would inevitably involve fighting through hordes of them, something he couldn’t afford to be delayed by.
Fasite violently bombarded the beasts with spiritual power, carving out a bloody path as quickly as he could. Today’s ambush had turned into a complete disaster. His spiritual power was on the verge of slipping out of control.
Su Cha, barely conscious, saw Fasite moving farther and farther away. In that moment, it felt like all the strength had been drained from his body. Time itself seemed to lose meaning—he couldn’t tell whether a second, a minute, or ten had passed.
On the other side, just as Su Cha’s consciousness began to disintegrate, Fasite managed to make it out of the valley—at the cost of detonating a third of his spirit form.
As he left, although the system wasn’t fully repaired, it began to reload certain modules. For most of the new players, previously hopeless, the logout option suddenly reappeared. Grateful to have survived, they didn’t hesitate to disconnect.
The wristwatch communication function was back online, though the signal was still poor.
Su Cha received a call from Wu Zhi.
“Are you insane? You poisoned us and ran out on your own?!”
Wu Zhi exhaled sharply in relief—at least he was alive. Not long ago, Su Cha had released poison and fled alone to draw in star pirates. The memory still made her furious.
The beasts’ roars echoed in the background, and Wu Zhi urgently reminded him: “You can log out now—check your watch!”
Su Cha’s logout option was still grayed out.
Sometimes there were a few unlucky ones who couldn’t log off. Su Cha let out a self-deprecating laugh—was his luck really that bad?
In truth, it wasn’t bad luck. The beasts’ rampage had corrupted the data in this small area, interfering with his logout transfer.
“Su Cha!” Wu Zhi called anxiously again, getting no response.
“I see it,” Su Cha said calmly. “I’m preparing to leave. We’ll talk later.”
With that, he ended the call.
He sent a mass message to Ji Tianjin and the others, saying he was about to log off. In this situation, telling them he couldn’t log out was pointless.
Lighting a stick of incense, Su Cha dragged himself toward a hidden spot. He wanted to find a safe place to hide before collapsing, to give himself a chance to be rescued by the military.
Strange Beasts, drawn by the scent of the incense, followed.
Eventually, Su Cha leaned against a cliff wall. The incense burned slowly, like a countdown on his life. The only sign that he was still alive was the bleeding wounds. A sweet metallic taste filled his mouth as his consciousness faded. At last, he felt a peaceful stillness, as if nothing could wake him anymore, nothing could disturb him.
The scent of fresh earth and breeze surrounded him—so this is how quiet the world could be.
On the ravaged ground, a hand silently broke through the soil and grabbed a thin ankle above.
Su Cha’s heavy eyelids suddenly flew open. “What the h*ll?!”
The unexpected moment nearly scared him back to life.
Climbing out of the tunnel was Ji Tianjin. The neurotoxin had weakened the strange beasts’ senses enough for him to dig a successful tunnel. Following behind him were Rong Shao, Liu Xiqin… one familiar face after another. The whole team was here.
The moment Wu Shui emerged, she scolded him: “You lied to us.”
Su Cha froze. “How did you…”
Wu Shui, clearly emotional, wiped away a tear. “When I logged out, I heard the commentator say they were praying for you. Then the entire audience stood up.”
Realizing Su Cha might still be inside, she immediately logged back in, and ran into Ji Tianjin and the others.
Su Cha shook his head. “That was too reckless.”
Teammates who re-entered would be placed nearby. If Wu Shui had been sent to the valley, she might have died with no one to find her.
Wu Shui replied, “What, you expect me to sit with everyone and hold a memorial instead?”
“…”
For once, Su Cha was left speechless.
As for Ji Tianjin, he had never believed Su Cha had actually left. The chaos in the valley, the crazed beasts—it wasn’t hard to guess Su Cha was involved. With data corruption, the logout function could easily fail. Rong Shao had also insisted that under such conditions, the odds of Su Cha logging off were zero.
While assessing the surrounding terrain, Ji Tianjin said, “The teleport system is unstable. That’s why the military waited for most students to leave first. Their personnel should be arriving soon.”
The beasts’ murky eyes locked on them. Escaping through the tunnel again was no longer an option.
Su Cha glanced at the incense, now nearly burned out. He grew sleepier by the second.
Though Ji Tianjin had bandaged and medicated his wounds, it wasn’t helping much. The residual spiritual power from the star pirates was keeping the injuries from healing. Su Cha handed over the last of his medicine with a weak smile. “Promise me one thing.”
Ji Tianjin frowned, about to speak, but Su Cha interrupted him.
“I have a friend… it might come looking for me. If you see it, tell it… tell…”
Su Cha’s voice was too faint. Ji Tianjin leaned closer just to hear him clearly.
“Go f*** yourself.”
D*mn system—its stinginess was going to get them killed.
“…” Ji Tianjin hoisted Su Cha onto his back and switched his mechanical gloves into combat mode.
The incense had burned out completely. The strange beasts surrounding them reverted to their savage nature.
There was no need for words—taking advantage of the strange beasts’ slowed movements, everyone attacked at once.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Ji Tianjin barked.
Su Cha felt like the entire left side of his chest had been crushed. He could even hear the sound of bones still breaking.
Using a tree trunk as leverage, Ji Tianjin leapt forward and targeted the strange beast’s vulnerable eye.
It looked like a hopeless gamble, but as his gloved hand drew close, the strange beast unexpectedly flinched. A roar cut off its retreat—a white tiger pounced and sank its teeth into the beast’s neck, savagely tearing into its prey.
Seizing the moment of pain, Ji Tianjin blasted the creature’s eyeball.
The massive beast trembled violently, then collapsed with a crash.
Warm blood splattered across their faces. Su Cha coughed.
If he passed out now, his spiritual power might completely collapse—and not even a god could save him. Ji Tianjin tried to keep him conscious: “And what else?”
Su Cha mumbled vaguely.
“Just that one message?”
“And… give it a slap. Not the face. Not too hard either. Just… spin it like a top, a few times…”
Those two titanium alloy legs of the system’s—it would definitely look hilarious spinning around.
More beasts surged in. Rong Shao’s arm was skewered by a beast’s blade-like leg. Unable to break free and seeing another limb about to strike his head, he made a swift decision: hacked off his own arm to escape.
Liu Xiqin was about to help when she spotted a beast falling from the sky. Then more beasts circling the valley began to topple.
“Rescue’s here!”
With hope of survival rekindled, the battered team found renewed strength.
A ferocious wolf dashed over—any beast that tried to stop it saw only a blur.
Ji Tianjin recognized it from the hospital—it was Yise’s spirit form. He placed the exhausted Su Cha on its back, letting it carry him out.
The military had begun clearing a path. The wolf reached flat ground, and Su Cha’s watch returned to normal. With a press of the paw on the communicator, it activated his logout function—Su Cha was forcibly logged out.
Outside the simulation pod, as Su Cha’s consciousness returned, he was immediately caught by the long-waiting rescue team.
Wounds in the simulation wouldn’t transfer to the real world, but severe injury could still cause brain death, and excessive pain might lead to sudden death.
“Quick! Inject!”
A syringe plunged in—no response.
The medics checked. His pupils were dilated. Heart stopped.
After removing his metal gear, the defibrillator jolted his frail body again and again. On the third shock, finally—reaction. Su Cha’s heart restarted.
A crowd of reporters had long gathered outside the arena, but this time, they kept their distance, recording silently.
It hurt. Su Cha’s head throbbed like it was about to explode. But the pain was something precious—it meant he was still alive.
His eyes wouldn’t open. His dry lips trembled with the pain.
A reporter who had once interviewed him suddenly shouted: “Hang in there! Do you remember? You said you wanted to be like General Yise!”
To go to battle, shoulder to shoulder?
“…”
For the second time today, Su Cha was almost shocked back to life.
While he was being resuscitated, Ji Tianjin and the others were successfully rescued by the military. Exhausted from their injuries, they were all stretchered out and rushed to the hospital.
From the crowd, someone rushed forward, only to be stopped by soldiers.
“Let me through!”
“It’s Shen Ningze,” a reporter recognized, snapping photos.
As one of the ‘victims’ of the experiments, Shen Ningze had only just been discharged. No one knew why he had appeared here.
The scene was broadcast live.
Shen Ningze’s sudden appearance was orchestrated by Luan Zheng, former president of the Xilin Group. After Fasite’s mission ran into trouble, he reported back remotely, and Luan Zheng tried to salvage the situation. As another experimental subject, Shen Ningze would be easier for Su Cha to trust—especially since they’d interacted back in the hospital.
Su Cha hadn’t revealed the information he possessed to the military, likely keeping it as a safeguard. Now, with his life in the balance, there was a chance he might pass that safeguard on to Shen Ningze.
At the very least, following him would reveal which hospital he was sent to.
“Let me through, I’m his friend.” Shen Ningze’s acting was flawless—his eyes filled with concern, his tone on the verge of breaking, like a devastated family member.
Hearing the commotion, Su Cha barely opened his eyes, the first thing he saw being Ji Tianjin on a stretcher. He parted his lips, trying to speak.
His field of vision was limited. He couldn’t see the others—he wanted to know if they were okay.
He tried several times to speak but failed. All his thoughts were poured into his gaze.
Ji Tianjin, who had regained some strength after an injection, noticed Su Cha’s trembling lashes and weakly moving lips. He sighed lightly.
“I got it.”
He leapt from the stretcher, startling the medics.
Ji Tianjin walked straight to Shen Ningze.
“You said you’re Su Cha’s friend?”
He already knew the answer. Before being rescued, Su Cha had been isolated in the lab—among the few peers he could’ve met was Shen Ningze.
“I am.” Shen Ningze asked eagerly, “Did Su Cha have a message for me?”
Ji Tianjin nodded.
Shen Ningze was overjoyed, though he kept his face composed.
But the next moment, he was abruptly lifted into the air by spiritual power.
One spin. Two. Twirling, leaping, spinning with eyes closed—Shen Ningze rotated eighteen times midair.
Even the reporters watching through their cameras were getting dizzy.
Ji Tianjin controlled the force precisely, stopping once Shen Ningze was thoroughly disoriented. He said calmly: “He said: Go f*** yourself.”
