Su Cha, now praised as a premium-level “love-brained” person, had just gone through one of life’s biggest downfalls and upswings, successfully completing his deep awakening—but his current condition was far from good.
Deep awakening was a process of qualitative change. He should’ve been energetic and full of life, but because he had forcibly recalled his spiritual power, his entire body was sore to the point where even his tendons felt like they were torn.
With people around, Su Cha finally stopped holding himself up by sheer willpower. His body suddenly pitched forward.
With Ji Tianjin there, of course, he wouldn’t let him fall. One collapsed with complete trust, the other caught him with total care.
With just a scoop, Su Cha practically draped half his body over Ji Tianjin. The faint floral scent still lingered in the air. Su Cha kept his eyes closed. If Ji Tianjin had even a sliver of ill intent right now, he could easily knock him out of the game in an instant.
The storm had stopped. Before the lingering scent of blood could attract more trouble, Ji Tianjin reminded him, “Let’s find somewhere to rest first.”
From a distance, this scene looked surprisingly harmonious. Su Cha seemed like the vines he had manipulated earlier, now twined around a tall tree. But this vine wasn’t dependent—it seemed that if he wished, he could instantly strangle the tree’s life out.
A battleship descended, and emergency personnel carried Li Xingqu away on a stretcher.
Zhao En was also injured; his left shoulder had been clawed by the white tiger, the blood-stained bone clearly visible. He stared ahead without blinking, his voice full of confusion: “They… loved someone too?”
Emergency personnel: “……”
What’s with all this talk about love? What are these young people thinking about all the time?
Ji Tianjin draped Su Cha’s arm over his shoulder, supporting him, but his gaze suddenly turned sharp.
Sensing an abnormal presence, Ji Tianjin didn’t move. The white tiger, who had been lazily lying under a tree, suddenly leapt up, its roar forcing the would-be attacker to retreat several steps. The attacker withdrew swiftly without any intention of entangling further.
Su Cha furrowed his brow and let out a soft grunt. The beast’s roar contained spiritual power, indirectly causing his head to ache a bit.
Liu Xiqin’s dagger glinted coldly. Watching the assassin retreat to a safe distance, she sneered, “Trying to ambush like us?”
The ones who had just attacked were from the Pritt star, also moving in groups of three. Their captain smiled cheerfully, “Just trying my luck. See you.”
As he spoke, he even gave an exaggerated wink.
Liu Xiqin didn’t chase. That team was strong. With Su Cha’s current condition, she and Di Yuansi wouldn’t have any advantage in pursuing them alone.
After confirming there were no other immediate threats, Liu Xiqin and Di Yuansi hurried to Su Cha’s side. Seeing his pale face, Di Yuansi spoke in a half-laughing, half-helpless tone: “Why is it that every time you get stronger, you end up this frail?”
Su Cha lifted one eyelid. He wanted to know the answer to that question too.
Is it some kind of curse?
“I just need to recover a bit.”
This time, the issue wasn’t serious. As long as he rested for a while, he could quickly return to peak combat condition.
“One day, I will…”
“Knock all of us down with one hand,” Ji Tianjin seamlessly finished the sentence.
While searching for a base point, Ji Tianjin stopped joking and seriously listed several forces to watch out for, including the Pritt star attackers, the Taipu Empire, Z804 planet, and the Kappa star teams. With the Federation eliminated, these were the top remaining groups.
Su Cha asked, “What about the Zerg?”
Ji Tianjin: “Don’t worry about them.”
Di Yuansi added, “We passed by the Zerg king on the way here—he was flying in the air, cursing the Federation’s ancestors right into the drone cameras.”
Su Cha twitched his mouth. Lien was really… lively.
Finding a suitable base in the rainforest wasn’t easy.
This place wasn’t fit for tents, and digging pits was out of the question. Su Cha lowered his voice and said something.
Ji Tianjin thought for a moment and replied, “Hold on.” His practical skills were second only to Rong Shao. He quickly found a massive tree and built a simple treehouse.
Ji Tianjin was good at choosing spots—the treehouse was well hidden and covered with dense leaves.
In the arena, the commentators analyzed from a standard perspective: “It appears that the players from Fog Star and the Galan Empire have chosen to ally and went to great lengths to build a shelter.”
Another commentator chimed in: “At least the Fog Star player is maintaining his usual high standards for living conditions.”
The remark livened the atmosphere, but it was laced with subtle mockery.
The commentator was from the Federation and obviously carried some personal bias.
The audience had mixed thoughts. Some wondered if the Federation was deliberately provoking or trying to anger Cyril. After all, the Federation had no hope of controlling the wormhole now. If Cyril lashed out at the commentator, their previous agreement would be void.
While people speculated, many snuck glances at Cyril, only to find he hadn’t been paying attention at all. Since earlier, he had been busy taking photos, eventually compiling a nine-grid collage of Su Cha from various angles, which he posted on his long-abandoned social account.
[May time pass more slowly. May you always be carefree. (Flower.jpg)]
Fog Star soldiers frantically liked the post.
…Unbelievable.
Those waiting to watch the drama couldn’t understand how a planet could pamper their heir to this extent. Glancing at the screen, they also saw the Zerg king, almost out of frame, still furiously cursing and shook their heads.
That one was even more unbelievable.
Most of the audience remained focused on the competition, especially Rong Shao and his team.
Wu Shui pointed at a live camera feed: “Looks like the weather’s about to change.”
…
Near nine o’clock, the sky darkened completely.
Rain began to fall in the rainforest. In less than a minute, it poured heavily.
The players quickly donned the special rain gear they had prepared, but soon realized it wasn’t very effective. The toxins in the air were overwhelming—if they weren’t careful, they would inhale them.
Su Cha’s treehouse came in handy. Rain on Morning Dusk Star was frequent, and the rainwater was highly poisonous. This was also a tactic devised by the organizing committee to prevent players from dragging out the game. In such a vast forest, if everyone chose to wait it out, who knew how long the elimination round would take.
To resist the toxic rain, players had to constantly shield themselves with spiritual power, which was a terrifying drain.
The toxins primarily attacked the nervous system, so the treehouse offered a brief refuge.
Outside, the rain poured down. Inside the treehouse, the four of them sat cross-legged.
Ji Tianjin glanced out the window: “The rain here always lasts a long time. We can’t stay inside forever.”
Going out to eliminate targets would also consume a lot of energy.
Su Cha said, “Then we capture them alive.”
Ji Tianjin looked up at him.
Su Cha smiled: “I’ll steal other people’s spiritual power to nourish all of you.”
After a brief silence, Liu Xiqin clapped her hands first: “That could work. You can absorb their spiritual power and feed it to our spirit forms, creating a positive cycle.”
Di Yuansi nodded, clearly agreeing with the plan.
After some discussion, Ji Tianjin and Liu Xiqin went out while Di Yuansi and Su Cha stayed behind to guard the treehouse.
The muddy ground easily retained more footprints. The white tiger patiently tracked human traces. Ji Tianjin ignored the venomous snakes living on the ancient trees, using them as leverage to swiftly leap up. Near the treetops, he took out binoculars and scanned the distance.
He focused on the dense forests filled with large leaves.
As he jumped down, Liu Xiqin asked, “Any findings?”
Ji Tianjin shook his head. “Keep moving.”
What they needed now was just time.
They traveled for half an hour in the rain, both of their spiritual energy depleting at an alarming rate. Ji Tianjin suddenly lightened his footsteps.
They were in luck—three figures were taking shelter under a tree in the distance.
Thanks to the commotion Su Cha had caused when he awakened earlier, many people had been drawn to this area. At least now, most competitors were active within this relatively concentrated region.
Two versus three. Liu Xiqin held off two people on her own, while Ji Tianjin used his explosive speed to directly ambush the remaining one.
It was a team from a mid-tier planet with little real combat experience—otherwise, they wouldn’t have been caught so easily. Ji Tianjin quickly subdued his opponent by forcefully suppressing him with spiritual power while simultaneously throwing a long knife.
Liu Xiqin was distracted and asked, “You know how to use this?”
Ji Tianjin simply nodded. He didn’t usually use knives, typically storing them folded in his spatial ring. The knife just now hadn’t targeted a vital point but had instead severely injured the opponent’s spirit form.
They had already gained the upper hand, but just as the other team thought they were about to be eliminated, Ji Tianjin didn’t follow through to trigger the emergency protection mechanism. Instead, a white tiger randomly snatched one of the members into the air and quickly disappeared into the jungle.
Liu Xiqin didn’t linger in battle either and immediately withdrew.
Their teammate was abducted right under their noses. The remaining two looked at each other in confusion, completely unsure of what was going on. Eliminating one person would knock out the whole team, so even if they couldn’t win, they had to chase. They could only sprint at full speed, but the heavy rain quickly widened the gap between them.
The abducted player had suffered a broken arm during the earlier fight. He’d tried to resist several times along the way but failed and ended up getting drenched in the rain, feeling dizzy and weak.
“We’re back.” A soft, gentle voice, as if saying, “You’re home.”
The player opened his eyes and was startled to see Su Cha’s angelic face smiling toward the door.
Door?
He finally realized he had been brought to a treehouse.
Su Cha waved him over, and the player was immediately dragged forward. He wasn’t given a chance to resist—his arm was pressed down on a rough, makeshift table.
His first thought: Are they going to chop off my hand?
But no—Ji Tianjin merely threw a piece of thin cloth over his wrist, and Su Cha placed two fingers on it, like a doctor checking a pulse.
To control the rate of absorption, Su Cha used a method like pulling silk threads—gradual and delicate extraction of spiritual power. The player’s expression changed completely.
So tingly.
So numb.
He stubbornly clenched his fist, trying to pull his hand back several times, but each time, he was forced back down by spiritual pressure.
His fist was tight, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was about to let out an “aow” when the image of Li Xingqu’s tearful howling from earlier flashed through his mind. He forcibly swallowed the sound halfway and instead let out a soft “yiiiing.”
The player startled himself.
Bit by bit, his spiritual energy was stripped away. Su Cha then fed it to the nearby white tiger, and a portion was also transferred to Liu Xiqin’s spirit form.
The player gave up and began to wail in complete defeat—his cries even had a sort of wave-like rhythm.
Di Yuansi’s expression was strange. “Does he really need to scream like that?”
Ji Tianjin calmly analyzed, “During the extraction of core energy, the nerve center gets stimulated.”
Then he looked at the two of them. “You stay here and guard. I’ll go scout around.”
His tone was as casual as saying, “I’ll go farm monsters.”
No one knew what was really happening in the treehouse. Layers of leaves and wooden walls blocked the drones’ view.
But occasionally, strange sounds would come from inside—suppressed, painful cries.
“Ah—Aow—D*mn it—”
The audience kept trying to convince themselves that they must be misinterpreting it—it had to be just a fight.
But within three seconds, they all wanted to slap themselves. Screw that, this wasn’t just a fight. If they were simply going to eliminate the player, why bother dragging him into the treehouse?
Something was definitely up.
“He’s coming out, he’s coming out.”
Someone whispered in disbelief.
The player was carried out, completely drained, unable to even lift his arms.
There was a strange, indescribable look still lingering on his face. During the extraction process, Su Cha had been gently soothing him with healing floral scents while offering warm, comforting words.
“It’ll be over soon. I know what I’m doing.”
Su Cha really did control the amount—he only took a moderate portion, enough to avoid causing physical harm, but it would leave the player extremely fatigued for a while.
To prevent him from catching a cold due to weakness, they even thoughtfully wrapped him in a jacket like a dumpling before bringing him out.
Liu Xiqin calmly pulled out her dagger. “Will you forfeit yourself, or shall I activate the elimination device?”
Just then, Ji Tianjin returned with another captive.
Glancing at the player on the ground, he nodded slightly. “Perfect timing to pick up where we left off.”
The player being carried by the white tiger had already stopped struggling, but upon seeing this scene, an ominous feeling surged in his heart. He immediately tried to fight back, but was instantly suppressed again by spiritual force.
Ignoring this, Liu Xiqin was still waiting for an answer.
“I forfeit.” At this point, only a fool would keep resisting. The player lying on the ground glanced at his newly captured teammate and struggled to say a few words to comfort him. But completely drained, he could only manage: “It doesn’t hurt, no injuries… just a bit slow.”
“…”
I’ll kill you all.”
There wasn’t time to say more—the substitute player was already being sent inside.
Di Yuansi walked out from the shadows and looked at Ji Tianjin. “Next round, I’ll go catch someone. You rest a bit.”
Ji Tianjin nodded, not forcing himself to keep going.
Before entering the treehouse again, he caught sight of a drone attempting to approach. He paused for three seconds, wondering if this scene would be misunderstood by the audience—but soon, he simply walked inside.
Compared to Su Cha’s censored mosaic livestream from before, this was nothing.
No censorship meant zero restraint.
Unfortunately, the audience’s mental strength was clearly not as solid as he imagined. At this moment, the entire arena was practically exploding.
