“I’m evacuating… but what about the others…”
Yun Yao cast a complicated glance at Chu Tianqiu.
“The rest have their own fates,” Chu Tianqiu whispered solemnly. “Even someone as strong as Zhang Shan can’t fully resist the White Tiger. He can only temporarily enhance his body, but the White Tiger also has lethal ‘Echoes.’ So those who can leave must do so first.”
Yun Yao nodded, sensing something different about Chu Tianqiu.
It was a state she had never felt from him before—his words just now seemed laced with genuine concern for his teammates.
The phrase she had heard most often from him in the past was, “For the sake of more people surviving, some deaths are inevitable.”
The two mindsets seemed similar in direction, yet subtly different.
Yun Yao shook her head and took a step back. “Tianqiu… the White Tiger just said… we might not have another cycle.”
“I expected that,” Chu Tianqiu replied, lifting his gaze to the sky. “But the Heavenly Dragon won’t awaken until tomorrow. We still have much to do. This is just the beginning, isn’t it?”
“Hopefully…”
With a sigh, Yun Yao retreated and soon vanished into the crowd.
As she passed Jiang Ruoxue, their eyes met briefly, but neither spoke—only a fleeting moment of silent acknowledgment.
The White Tiger hadn’t anticipated anyone capable of clashing with him head-on, and for a moment, he grew cautious.
But he quickly deduced the situation: this man likely possessed either “Divine Strength,” “Savage Force,” or “Heavenly Stride.” Regardless, he could only wield one such ability.
Moreover, judging from that earlier punch, the burly man wasn’t unhinged enough. Any “immortal technique” that enhanced the body scaled with the user’s rationality—the more unhinged, the stronger.
For a “participant” as highly rational as this one, “Savage Force” was more than enough to overpower “Heavenly Stride.”
Without hesitation, the White Tiger lunged forward, fists colliding with Zhang Shan in a bizarre duel that drew stunned gazes from the onlookers.
Zhang Shan primarily used mixed martial arts, leveraging the immense power of “Heavenly Stride” to try and grapple the White Tiger, whose fighting style resembled that of a frenzied beast.
The White Tiger even crawled on all fours at times, lunging to headbutt Zhang Shan’s nose, all while massive trees rained down from above and his body sporadically erupted in flames.
Fortunately, Zhang Shan’s “Heavenly Stride” allowed him to heal from ordinary injuries.
Their battle raged like a chain collision, shockwaves forcing bystanders to keep their distance. Zhang Shan felt pain wrack his entire body—as if brawling with an armored opponent. But he knew he was likely the only one who could stall the White Tiger. If he retreated, everyone would die.
Soon, however, he faced an even more pressing issue: based on his memory, “Heavenly Stride” wouldn’t last much longer. Within seconds, he’d be defeated.
Seizing his final opportunity, he dodged a fatal strike from the White Tiger and swung his fist toward the man’s face. The White Tiger blocked instantly.
In the next moment, Zhang Shan’s fist suddenly sprouted a layer of cotton, followed by a massive rock, and then—in a blink—iron spikes burst from the stone.
The punch landed with a thunderous crash. The rocks on Zhang Shan’s arm shattered, the spikes embedding into the White Tiger’s arm and forcing him back five steps.
“Hah…” Zhang Shan’s fist bled, but the wound began healing immediately. “Like I said, if everyone pitches in, what can’t we solve?”
Then he noticed his fist still ached—the wound was mending unusually slowly.
“You—”
The White Tiger gritted his teeth, shaking the spikes from his arm before pouncing again. But in the next instant, several nearby corpses rose and lunged to restrain him.
Amid the coordinated “Echoes” of the crowd, the White Tiger found himself momentarily thwarted.
Then—
Amid the chaos, a rustling sound, like the downpour of a storm, suddenly echoed across the square.
The White Tiger and the others froze, scanning for the source of the noise.
A moment later, the White Tiger turned to look behind him—at the “empty” space.
From the void above, countless bean-sized fragments began raining down like a torrential flood, as if a sack of rice had been slashed open midair.
The black fragments scattered like sewage upon hitting the ground, their impact producing endless rustling.
The giant bell and display screen were indeed gone, yet the fragments continued pouring from above.
Trembling, the White Tiger stepped forward, reaching out to catch the fragments, his expression steeped in sorrow.
But the fragments simply slipped through his fingers, refusing to linger.
Within moments, the downpour of fragments ceased, leaving the square in eerie silence—strewn with debris.
Yan Zhichun knew all four giant bells had fallen. From this moment on, “Echoes” would become an invisible, inaudible secret to all.
*”Everyone, this is Yan Zhichun. I am the King of the Extremists.”*
The White Tiger went berserk. Roaring to kill all “traitors,” he sent Zhang Shan flying with a single strike.
*”Our first objective is complete. Now, follow your squad leaders and escape.”*
The dazed “participants,” hearing the White Tiger’s howls, finally grasped their new mission—they began attacking the “Extremists” in a frenzy.
Zhang Shan’s “Heavenly Stride” had faded. Just as someone moved to finish him, Xiao Yanjing intervened. Chu Tianqiu covered their retreat as “Paradise Port” escorted the Extremists to safety.
The Extremists regrouped, forming random squads before rushing to the leaders Yan Zhichun had named earlier.
*”If anyone is too exhausted, you may rest here. We’ll meet again in the next cycle.”*
“Wait—! Our squad’s too big!” Jiang Ruoxue shouted amid the chaos. “Some of you, go with Xiaoxiao!”
*”From now on, we’ll keep running—until dusk falls.”*
The White Tiger, bloodlust blinding him, charged into the crowd. Unable to distinguish “traitors” from “Extremists,” he unleashed waves of explosions, turning the square into an inferno.
The blasts and smoke became perfect cover for those still standing, who immediately crouched and weaved through the chaos.
*”And after dusk, we’ll board the train destined for death.”*
*”It is our beginning—and it will surely be our end.”*
*”Long live the Extremists.”*
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