Chapter Thirty-One: The Moment of Certain Death

“No—!” The black-clad youth screamed in madness, his voice brimming with unwillingness in the face of death.

At that very moment, a figure as swift as the wind shot over from the distance, placing himself in front of the black-clad youth. With a single outstretched right hand, he effortlessly blocked Xia Yan’s full-powered strike.

The newcomer’s expression remained calm, as if warding off such a blow was as simple as eating or drinking. He had used his bare hand, not a weapon, to block the attack—testament enough to the unfathomable strength he possessed.

In the next instant, Xia Yan spat out a mouthful of blood and was hurled back dozens of meters. The immense force of the man’s countershock had left Xia Yan’s right hand a bloody, mangled mess; even his bones seemed to have been shattered into fragments.

Feng Qiang and his companion both wore expressions of utter terror. This eerie, black-clad man was so powerful that his mere presence sent chills down their spines—a gap that was not merely dimensional, but insurmountable.

For him, killing the three of them would surely be no more difficult than slaughtering chickens.

The black-clad youth turned to look at the enigmatic man. At first, confusion flickered across his face, but then it turned to wild joy. He sensed the aura emanating from the man—he was one of his own kind.

This man was a mutant, his power surpassing even level five among mutated beings.

“This time, you’ve finally completed your evolution and gained intelligence. Not bad at all,” the other remarked, looking the youth up and down. “I’ve been here for a while, but I chose not to reveal myself. I wanted to see just how far you could go.”

“I actually lost,” the youth replied, bitterness and unwillingness in his voice.

“It doesn’t matter if you lose. What’s truly frightening is stagnating, failing to move forward. Keep learning—one day, you’ll far surpass these humans in wisdom,” the man said with a smile. “We mutants have an agreement with the humans: we cannot harm each other. But you’ve only just evolved, so the pact does not yet apply to you. From now on, though, the agreement is in effect. You’ll come with me to the Free Zone afterward.”

“Yes, sir.” The black-clad youth stood respectfully.

The strange man then turned his gaze to Xia Yan and his two companions, his eyes blazing with anger. “You three insignificant creatures dared to harm one of my kin. You’re courting death.”

The white-robed director and Feng Qiang both looked grim. A being of this caliber could destroy them without effort. Xia Yan, however, remained impassive and showed not the slightest trace of fear.

“However, due to the agreement, I won’t kill you two,” the man said, giving Feng Qiang and the director a dismissive glance before focusing on Xia Yan. “But as for this human—I must. You, as insignificant as an ant, dared to lay a hand on my kin. I’ll show you exactly what fate awaits an ant.”

“According to the agreement, are you even allowed to kill me?” Xia Yan asked, puzzled. He didn’t believe resisting would save his life, so he chose not to bother.

Against such power, hoping for a miracle was pointless.

“By the agreement, I shouldn’t kill you,” the mutant sneered. “But I will anyway. What can you do about it? You’re nothing but a speck of dust, a worthless piece of trash, and no one will stand up for you.”

Xia Yan felt a deep, unprecedented frustration—a sensation akin to being crushed in another’s palm. Yet he knew arguing was meaningless; the gap in power was simply too vast.

“Sir, let me kill him,” the black-clad youth said eagerly. When the mutant nodded, he turned to Xia Yan with a ferocious grin, as if Xia Yan were nothing more than garbage awaiting death.

No one dared speak up for Xia Yan; in fact, they all retreated further away. Their own lives were what mattered most—provoking this powerful mutant would only mean dying along with Xia Yan.

“Xia Yan, kneel for me!” the black-clad youth cackled, scanning Xia Yan with disdain.

Not far away, Nangong Yong was beside herself with rage. Sword in hand, she was about to rush forward, but Feng Qiang held her back. The team leader shook his head, meaning that charging in would only add another corpse to the tally. Xia Yan’s death was unfortunate, but there was no point in letting anyone else die with him.

Though unwilling, Nangong Yong was powerless to struggle free. Mad as she was, in this moment, she was the only one willing to stand up for Xia Yan.

Perhaps blind love is still love—it demands sacrifice, even if it brings no reward.

Xia Yan had no intention of kneeling for humiliation before dying. He considered ambushing the black-clad youth, but after running through the scenario in his mind, realized it was futile.

It was simply impossible—with the mutant man present, any attempt at stealth would be a joke.

“I told you to kneel!” The black-clad youth strode forward and kicked Xia Yan’s left knee. A sharp crack sounded as the bone fractured, blood gushing forth and leaving Xia Yan’s left leg unable to support his weight.

The mutant man looked on with something like admiration for the black-clad youth, but regarded Xia Yan with utter contempt. Xia Yan was as good as dead, with no chance of survival.

“Kneel!” the youth snarled, delivering another kick to Xia Yan’s right leg. Another bone snapped, and Xia Yan’s right leg gave way completely.

Yet Xia Yan still refused to kneel. Gritting his teeth, he held himself up with every last ounce of strength, his right arm already numb, but his left arm still able to brace against the ground.

“Damn you, damn you!” the black-clad youth raged. He had hoped to thoroughly humiliate Xia Yan before killing him, to strip him of all dignity. But Xia Yan’s stubbornness left him utterly exasperated.

The youth tried to move again, but his own injuries caught up with him—he coughed up blood, clearly at his limit.

“Enough. Let me finish him off—we must go,” the mutant man said impatiently, giving a cold laugh. To waste time on a piece of trash like Xia Yan seemed beneath him.

“Die!” The mutant man strode forward without even shifting into his true form. He stretched out his hand, and the very air in front of him trembled and surged toward Xia Yan.

At this point, Xia Yan had no strength left to resist or dodge. The difference in power was so overwhelming it was hopeless—he could only close his eyes and await death.

“Xia Yan!” Feng Qiang called out bitterly, clenching his teeth in helplessness.

“Guardian Xia Yan…” the white-robed director also wore a look of despair; the difference in strength could only inspire hopelessness.

“Xia Yan!” Nangong Yong screamed from afar. She charged forward with all her might, but could not get close enough. Her voice was laced with despair.

“No one can save him now,” Gong Kui said, looking at the scene on her digital display, her tone full of helplessness. The gulf in power was so great that no means could possibly bridge it.

Xia Yan’s death was now inevitable.

She felt it was a great pity. She had invested so much effort in Xia Yan—he had survived a level-four Shadow Panther, then Qing Xia, then Nangong Yong, even the Shadow Panther’s evolution to level five. He had always prevailed, and all that remained was a duel with former Director Ai You—yet he was fated to die here.

It shouldn’t have ended this way, but there was no turning back.

“Xia Yan, I never imagined you’d save me only to…” Lan Xin murmured, staring at Xia Yan’s image on the screen. She was unwilling to accept it. Her grip tightened on the Sword of Nethernight, tighter than ever before.

Many people watched this unfold, as if time itself had slowed. They recalled their past with Xia Yan. His journey had been miraculous, again and again turning the impossible into the possible—yet, in the end, he had reached his final fate.

There was less than half a second left now. Everyone knew, with utter certainty, that no one could save Xia Yan. In the Ninth District, no one could stand against the mutant man. Any reinforcements from above would be, at best, only slightly stronger than Feng Qiang—no match for this mutant.

What’s more, with less than half a second left, it was already too late.

Xia Yan closed his eyes. He did not fear death, nor did he care for it. What he felt was deep unwillingness—he knew he should not die here. Had he fallen to the Demon Clan, he would not have felt so aggrieved.