Plans, Firelight

Lu Yuan retrieved the Torrent Ring from his Battle-mark Space and, with a focused thought, absorbed it into his body.

A cool clarity swept through his mind — his thoughts sharpened instantly, his perceptions growing keener by a clear margin. His strength and defense climbed as well, each seeing a modest but real improvement.

He let out a small smile. A Boss Grade Gene Armament really does deliver. The stat boost was substantial.

What pleased him most was the Water Arrow Combat Technique encoded in the ring. Lu Yuan knew precisely how powerful that technique was. A direct hit would deal serious injury even to him. As a trump card he could pull when needed, it was far from trivial.

Now he needed to think about the next Origin Stone.

He couldn't count on Sandy Rock City's Auction House — it was more than ten days from opening, and there was no guarantee an Origin Stone would even be on the block when it did. Origin Stones were extraordinarily valuable. Any Gene Warrior who held one either needed it personally or would send it straight to auction for maximum profit. Nobody sat on one idle.

He opened the Battle Net marketplace and searched for Origin Stones.

Nothing listed.

He'd expected that.

He browsed the Sandy Rock City regional boards next, skimming post after post in search of any mention of a Boss Grade Feral Beast location — some ordinary warrior who'd stumbled across one and was selling the information.

He went through every post.

Nothing.

He rubbed his forehead. A dull ache had settled in behind his eyes. He'd started absorbing the first Origin Stone at noon and it had taken over six hours — and that was just for a single stone. He could absorb a Spirit Crystal in a few breaths; Origin Stones were on a completely different level. Still, he was probably faster at it than most Gene Warriors by a wide margin. But breaking through a Gene Lock was clearly no trivial matter. Wang Xiangxiang had been sitting at 100% tempering for a while now and still hadn't managed it. That said something.

Can't be helped. That's just how it is.

He could always try teaming up with someone. Liu Xi's Tianfu Consortium had come to mind more than once — they surely maintained their own pool of trained elite warriors, and coordinating a group hunt would make taking down a Boss Grade beast significantly less dangerous. But he decided to try on his own first.

If he did hunt another Boss, he'd want one that was slow — ideally an Elemental Type with mediocre defense. Elemental Types burned through Spirit Power during their Combat Technique bursts, and once that reservoir ran dry, they became manageable. If he could survive the opening phase, he'd eventually get his chance.

That said, killing the Ancient Sea Giant Crocodile had involved more luck than he liked to admit. Its low speed was its critical flaw — and luck had put him in front of one with exactly that weakness. Finding another boss that obligingly matched his strengths wasn't something he could plan for.

No other leads left. He'd just have to head into the core area of the Ancient Sea Oasis and search on foot. The deeper regions gave better odds of encountering a Boss Grade beast.

Maybe the next one drops an Origin Stone too. My luck's been decent.

He glanced out the window. The sky had gone dark while he sat thinking, and the streetlights were already on. He checked the time: 6:24 PM.

He decided against absorbing the second Origin Stone tonight. He wasn't inside the Land of Origin — if he buried himself in the absorption process and the Shadow appeared, he'd have no way to respond in time. Far too dangerous.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Pick it back up tomorrow.

At ten o'clock, he entered the Land of Origin.

His body materialized in the forested depths of the Ancient Sea Oasis. He took in his surroundings, then turned and moved deeper — toward the oasis's core.

After Lu Yuan entered the Land of Origin, out in the real world —

Deep night had settled over Xili City. In the prosperous districts, neon signs blazed and high-rises glowed, the city alive as midday. But the slum district was a different world entirely. Only the roadside streetlamps cast their dim, yellowish light down empty streets — deserted, utterly quiet. The chain restaurants and corner shops that operated during the day had shuttered hours ago. Anything left open after dark was asking to be robbed. Most slum residents did hard physical labor for a living; when night came, they slept.

Few windows showed any light.

In one of the residential complexes, two stray dogs were fighting over half a rotting piece of meat, teeth bared, trading low snarls —

Then they froze. At exactly the same moment, both animals snapped upright, eyes scanning the darkness around them. Something had triggered every instinct in their bodies. They didn't even grab the food. They fled — whimpering, tails clamped between their legs — and disappeared into the night.

The insects that had been chirping fell silent all at once, as if someone had cut the sound.

The surrounding air dropped a degree or two.

The entire complex settled into a dead, total stillness.

On the middle two floors of one of the high-rise buildings, thin wisps of black mist began seeping outward into the moonlit air. Within the mist, distorted Shadow shapes coiled and drifted — silent, spectral, like phantoms half-glimpsed and never quite seen.

Inside those two floors, every tenant lay asleep. The Shadow shapes slipped through walls and windows without resistance and merged soundlessly into their bodies.

Each of them let out a low, muffled groan. Brows knotted. Hands pressed to chests. Bodies curled and twisted involuntarily.

None of them woke up.

At the entrance to the complex, two figures appeared without warning.

One was a massive, powerfully built man with brown hair — Franming, armored in heavy gray plate, his left hand wrapped around a tower shield nearly as tall as a man, his right gripping a single-handed hammer bristling with iron spikes — a vicious-looking weapon.

The other was a slender, handsome young man with black hair, dressed in black leather armor, a sizeable bow slung across his back.

They stood together, watching the black mist billow from the distant building. Their expressions were grave.

The black-haired young man spoke first. "My Lord, we've detected an Aberration Event here."

Franming glanced at him and gave a single nod. He reached into his armor and produced a black phone, punched in a number.

Li Qinghe's projection shimmered into existence above them.

"Address," she said.

"Black Oak Street, Mingzhi Complex," Franming answered.

Li Qinghe's eyes narrowed slightly. "Significant scale," she said, her voice cool and measured.

Franming's expression darkened. He turned to face the mist-wreathed building, jaw set. "A Hong." His voice carried a warning edge. "Stay sharp. Something that moves this erratically — whatever's behind an Aberration Event like this is no low-rank threat. Don't let it blindside you."

The black-haired young man kept his gaze forward. "Relax. I know what I'm doing."

He adjusted his stance slightly. "I'm faster. I'll go in first. Da Ming, keep My Lord updated."

Lin Hong bent his knees, planted his feet, and launched himself off the ground. His body became a blur — a ghost of motion — and in an instant he was perched on a treetop a hundred meters away. In the next instant, he was gone again, shooting toward the high-rise like an arrow from a drawn bow.

Franming watched him go, then turned back to the mist. His face was tight. "For this thing to have grown to this degree already—" He glanced at the two floors of churning black fog, expression grim. "This time, we trace it back to the source. Whoever is pulling the strings behind all of this — we're rooting them out—"

*BOOM.*

Before the words were out of his mouth, a deafening concussive blast tore the night open. Massive jets of flame roared outward from the two floors — the entire section of the building erupting, fire screaming into the sky.

The black mist had already vanished without a trace.

The heat and the flames lit up Franming's face, etching it into something fierce and grim.

"What—" He looked up sharply toward the upper floors, then broke into a sprint toward the building. "Damn it — A Hong!"

From ahead, over a communicator: *"Okay!! I'm going f—"*

Then, after a beat: *"On my way."*