Chapter Six: Each Faction Holds Its Own

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Ding Li, a young man of about twenty, with a resolute face and a powerful build, was now utterly exhausted, desperately fleeing for his life. Several obvious wounds marked his body, fresh blood still staining his clothes—he hadn’t had time to properly tend to them. The enemies behind pursued him relentlessly, like maggots clinging to bone, never giving him a moment to catch his breath.

Given his abilities, the fact that he had survived this long was already beyond expectation. Yet his main worry was for Xia Yan—could that boy hold out until the end?

He should be fine… That kid was strong, nearly his equal in close combat, and his marksmanship was in a league above Ding Li’s. As long as Xia Yan had a firearm, his combat prowess would soar several notches.

“Xia Yan, you have to live until the end. Take first place. Become truly ‘human’,” Ding Li thought silently. “Even if I have to throw my life away, I’ll cripple most of Matthew’s group. The more of them I take down, the better my brother’s chances of winning.”

By now, Ding Li realized he likely wouldn’t last much longer. Time for one last gamble—the more he killed, the brighter his brother’s hopes.

Still, there was a tinge of regret. If only he and Xia Yan could meet up, their odds of victory would be even greater—they wouldn’t need to fear Matthew’s group at all.

He was risking his life for one reason: to give Xia Yan one final push. His own death was meaningless; that boy was a true talent—he must survive, take first, and escape this hell.

He must… He absolutely must!

…

Matthew’s group of six wore grim expressions.

“Boss Matthew, he ran into Area A,” said a green-haired man.

They, like Su Zhu, had acquired certain intelligence. The organizers themselves had arbitrarily divided the map into five major zones, partly out of a twisted sense of humor.

Matthew was a strong contender for the championship—he had a real shot. In terms of direct combat, he was no match for the strongman Antoine or the dark assassin Brook. But he had a trump card of his own.

He had gathered a group of eleven, including himself—a total of twelve. They’d amassed vast resources: all manner of weapons, blades and clubs for close combat, firearms for ranged. If one man couldn’t win, twelve attacked together—even Antoine and Brook would have to kneel.

Unfortunately, their dozen was now halved—only six remained.

All because of that damned man, Number Ninety-Nine, Ding Li. Despite repeated sieges, they’d never managed to kill him. Instead, he’d lured them into a trap with remote explosives, killing six of their comrades.

“Ding Li, you’ll die in agony. You killed six of my brothers—I was supposed to have a great chance at victory,” Matthew raged, nearly mad with rage. “No, I still have a chance. There are still six of us—there’s hope.”

“Boss, Ding Li ran into Area A. What do we do?” asked a bald man.

“Chase him! We must kill Ding Li!” Matthew had lost all composure.

…

Antoine and his two companions rampaged through Area A, killing any sinner they encountered.

But by now, near the end of the match, they hadn’t seen a living soul in some time.

“Boss, this round of shuffling is almost over. Tomorrow we’ll see the locations of the survivors,” said the freckled girl at Antoine’s side.

“Hmm. Liao Qin, how many do you think are left?”

“We’ve all followed the unwritten rules. Brook, for one, must still be alive. Then there’s Matthew—he’s weaker, but his numbers should keep him alive. As for the rest, most are probably dead. Any others left alive wouldn’t exceed five,” the freckled girl replied.

“You’re right. This round is special—very few have survived,” Antoine nodded. “But by my calculations, I’m not in first place. Brook has killed more than I have—he’s probably ahead.”

There were two reapers in this match: Antoine and Brook. They killed every sinner they encountered.

“No need to worry, boss,” piped up the short youth. “Once we kill Brook, you’ll be in first.”

“Be careful around him. He’s our biggest obstacle,” Antoine warned.

He looked wild and burly, like a reckless brute, but in truth, he was careful and shrewd—he would not underestimate Brook.

…

Area A was deathly quiet. The mutant beasts had nearly all been wiped out. Corpses littered the ancient city’s streets.

Only second-tier mutants could pose a threat to those who remained—but none had appeared in this sector so far. The organizers knew they’d released more than one such beast; it was just that, due to their habits, they hadn’t encountered any contestants yet.

This was a residential complex, half-ruined. Broken flowerbeds lay scattered around, wild grass overtaking the land. In the distance, the ancient gate to the complex glinted dully.

“Wait,” Xia Yan halted Su Zhu’s advance.

“What is it?” Su Zhu asked, puzzled.

“Someone’s lurking nearby. This place is perfect for an ambush,” Xia Yan said, gripping his ‘Land Leopard’ pistol as he advanced warily.

“Here.” Xia Yan pulled the trigger at a southeast angle—yet it failed to draw any target into the open.

“This person…” Xia Yan’s face changed. The enemy was not only powerful, but eerily skilled—he wasn’t confident he could win. Could it be Brook, the dark assassin?

Behind…

A sense of danger prickled. Xia Yan spun and fired three shots in rapid succession, bullets fanning out behind him.

A figure flashed forward, swift as a streak of light, making no attempt to dodge.

He wielded a long sword, using some unfathomable technique to evade Xia Yan’s shots with ease, closing to within two meters in an instant.

The blade flashed—a slash meant to cleave Xia Yan in two.

Xia Yan rolled aside, dodging the blow. As he rolled, he continued firing his ‘Land Leopard’ at point-blank range.

At this distance, dodging was impossible.

The figure, forced to abort his attack, shifted to defense. Yet as he did so, he realized he was cornered. With a swing of his sword, he struck the bullet in midair.

A single slash—and the bullet split in two.

Both Xia Yan and his assailant were stunned, instantly pulling back to a distance of twenty meters.

The attacker was garbed in black, his frame thin, a hawk-like nose giving him a striking profile.

“It’s Brook,” Xia Yan recognized him at once.

From their brief exchange, Xia Yan could gauge their abilities. With a gun, his odds were less than thirty percent. In melee, not even a tenth.

The man’s physical prowess seemed to have surpassed the human limit by ten percent.

Brook stood motionless in the distance, his dark green eyes glinting with surprise.

This was the first person to ever evade his killing blow—and so young, at that.

The first sinner to make him feel his life was at risk.

“You’re pretty good, kid,” Brook’s voice was cold. “I admit, you deserve to make it to the end.”

“What do you mean?” Xia Yan asked tensely.

“This is a competition—a game. The stronger the opponent, the later I’ll face them,” Brook replied coolly. “You’ve earned my respect. I’m not certain I could kill you and walk away unscathed. And the woman with you hasn’t even made a move. I’ll leave you two for last.”

“For last?” Su Zhu echoed.

Brook nodded. “Yes. When the GPS system activates tomorrow, I’ll clear out the small fry, then Matthew’s group, then Antoine’s, and finally, you two.”

“We’re more dangerous than Antoine?” Su Zhu was incredulous. She knew Xia Yan was strong, but she’d never imagined he’d be rated higher than Antoine’s trio.

“The boy’s marksmanship is terrifying. To me, he’s a bigger threat than Antoine. But if you two face Antoine’s group, your odds aren’t good,” Brook sneered. “Still, don’t worry. I’ll kill them first and then come for you. All you need to do is fight me with everything you have.”

With that, he vanished without a trace.

“What an arrogant man,” Xia Yan muttered, frowning. Yet Brook truly was formidable—he couldn’t be sure of victory.

“Damn…” Xia Yan’s face darkened.

“Xia Yan, what’s wrong? Is your headache back?” Su Zhu rushed to steady him, her eyes full of concern and worry.

Xia Yan had been fine for days, but now, the symptoms returned.

In this place, danger lurked everywhere, with only the strongest left. If Xia Yan lost his ability to fight, it would spell the end for both of them.

“It’s nothing, just a headache. I probably don’t have long to live,” Xia Yan said nonchalantly, a crooked smile on his lips. “Let’s find Ding Li—he should be nearby.”

“Alright.” Su Zhu followed with her head down, her eyes clouded with complex emotions and hesitation.

…

Dusk. Seventeenth floor of the complex, inside an apartment.

“Xia Yan, there’s someone below!” Su Zhu shouted, spotting movement outside as Xia Yan rested.

“What?” Xia Yan hurried over and saw Matthew’s group moving quickly below—only six remained. Clearly, something had happened.

“What should we do?” Su Zhu asked.

“Take out as many as we can. This is a good sniping position,” Xia Yan replied coldly.

Now, it was kill or be killed. Every rival eliminated increased his chances of winning—and first prize was the gene serum.

Xia Yan set up his sniper rifle on the balcony, showing no mercy as he aimed below.

The first target: Matthew, their leader. Kill him, and the remaining five would be lost and leaderless—chaos would follow.

He squeezed the trigger—smoothly, almost effortlessly. It felt as if he could wipe out a troublesome rival right here.

Matthew led the group, his face black with rage, inwardly vowing to capture Ding Li and make him suffer.

Suddenly, he sensed something was wrong—a chill in the air, a prickle of unease.

And then—nothing.

His body felt strange, unfamiliar. He tried to reach out with his hands, but they would not touch the world beyond.

All was darkness.

Matthew fell, eyes wide with disbelief—a scene frozen in time.

“Boss! Boss!” his companions cried, stunned to stillness, then erupting in panic.

Another sniper round, swift as an arrow, split the air.

A red-haired youth collapsed, life snuffed out.

“Sniper! There’s a sniper! Take cover!” the others finally reacted, scrambling for shelter.

Hiding nearby, Ding Li watched it all, amazed—this had to be his brother, Xia Yan.

Ding Li and Xia Yan were brothers in arms, their teamwork instinctive. Though Ding Li didn’t know Xia Yan’s exact position, he realized that to snipe the rest, someone would have to draw them out.

“You idiots! If you’ve got guts, come kill your daddy! Twelve of you ganged up on me and I killed six—how shameful. I feel sorry for your mothers!” Ding Li yelled from the middle of the street, two or three hundred meters away.

“I’ll kill you!” a white-haired youth charged at Ding Li in a rage—only to have his life ended by a sniper’s bullet.

With Matthew dead, only three of the group remained—leaderless, doomed.

For Xia Yan and for all who had survived, killing the enemy was everything—there could be no mercy.

With Matthew’s group dead, their odds of victory grew even greater.