Chapter 47: Boldly Shattering the Heavens

Twin moons hung low on the eastern horizon, as if teetering on the edge of falling. There, a faint, elusive pallor shimmered, barely discernible—this was the boundary between dawn and darkness.

At this hour, ninety-nine percent of the world’s people slumbered peacefully in their dreams.

Deep within the dense jungle, the air was thick with dampness and the ground littered with rotting leaves.

The sound of rustling persisted without end.

Ren Zhong moved forward, body crouched low, advancing with utmost caution.

Three hundred meters ahead, a slight rise in the earth marked a gentle mound. Beneath this hillock lurked a level-two Ruin Beast known as the Golden Slime Slug.

According to the data, its body measured one and a half meters in length, and fifteen centimeters in width. Its form bore a close resemblance to the slugs of Earth, yet within its somewhat translucent flesh, golden liquid metal coursed and shimmered.

The Golden Slime Slug’s energy response index typically hovered around one hundred; its movements were slow and sluggish. Its means of attack were equally simple, relying solely on enveloping and consuming its prey.

Yet, this creature was notorious among the scavenging teams of Spark Town—one of the level-two Ruin Beasts they least wished to encounter.

Its regenerative powers bordered on the absurd. Any fighter lacking sufficient offensive strength simply could not kill it quickly; only by unleashing overwhelming attacks to continuously drain its energy reserves could one hope to wear it down.

Dealing with a single Golden Slime Slug would cost more than five times the usual energy and ammunition—it was a hunt sure to bleed one dry.

Still, Ren Zhong came alone, relying on the sticky corrosive spray in his hand—the last of thirteen gadgets he’d purchased the night before from the armory’s marketplace.

The slug’s nigh-invincible regeneration was perfectly countered by this spray.

He had already completed six successful level-two Ruin Beast hunts before this, emerging virtually unscathed.

After all, his combat ability already exceeded that of an ordinary level-one fighter, and with his meticulous preparations and arsenal of dirty tricks—tools others would never even consider—he was an unorthodox force to be reckoned with.

If the Ruin Beasts had their own police, these creatures would surely wish to call for help at the moment of their demise.

“Tonight’s venture has gone well enough. If I finish off this Golden Slime Slug, I’ll have collected thirteen level-two Ruin Beast chips in one night. Some chips were poorly harvested and had to be sold at a discount, but after deducting costs and the thirty percent freelance seller’s tax, my net profit should be close to one hundred and fifty contribution points.”

Solid, absolutely solid!

As he reached within thirty meters of the mound, the Golden Slime Slug, just about to settle in for rest, finally sensed an intruder.

The hill trembled, soft earth split open, and the lustrous golden creature burst forth from the soil, tracing a winding, serpentine path across the ground.

Ren Zhong’s expression did not change. Sword in his right hand, spray in his left, he advanced steadily.

The two closed to within two meters of each other. Ren Zhong sidestepped the slug’s lunge, twisted nimbly, and, in a flash, brought the spray to within seventy centimeters of its flank.

With a forceful press of his thumb, he unleashed the spray.

A hissing torrent of sticky corrosive mist—worth five contribution points, but spent like it was nothing—engulfed the creature.

Where spray met flesh, black splotches blossomed across its glistening skin. Bubbles frothed, a sizzling sound filled the air, and white smoke rose in curls.

Wracked with pain, the Golden Slime Slug abandoned its pursuit, rolling desperately on the ground.

Ren Zhong chuckled softly. “Well, if you’re going to flip yourself over, that saves me the trouble.” Both sides needed seasoning, after all.

He doused it again, emptying the last of the spray, tossed the canister aside, and stepped back.

The Golden Slime Slug was now steaming from head to tail, writhing in agony.

Ren Zhong did not hurry to claim his prize. He watched coldly, intending to wait until the creature was utterly dead before approaching.

But just as he relaxed, a sudden tremor at his side jolted him to alertness.

Instinctively, he leaped backward, rolling three times across the ground before regaining his stance.

He looked up and cursed inwardly.

Of course—cheap sensors on his entry-level motorcycle had failed him again! Fooled once more!

There were two of them!

He now faced a choice.

One: admit defeat, flee, and abandon the nearly dead first slug—and its chip.

Two: charge ahead.

Ren Zhong’s decision was never in doubt. He gripped his alloy blade tighter and bent his knees.

He was, after all, a man of action.

The second Golden Slime Slug, enraged by its companion’s plight, undulated wildly and launched itself at him.

As it neared, its two long tentacles thrashed, head rearing up. The front half of its body whipped down toward Ren Zhong’s shin like a lash.

He tried to dodge, but the slug twisted with surprising speed, aiming to pin his foot beneath its weight.

Though renowned for its sluggishness among level-two beasts, its energy reserves allowed for explosive bursts; in close quarters, it was anything but slow.

If it managed to latch on, it would climb his leg, adhere to him completely, and dissolve his body into a pool of blood.

In that life-or-death instant, Ren Zhong’s superior neural reflexes saved him.

He jerked his foot back and dove forward.

Both hands gripped his sword; with an upward thrust he drove the blade through the back of the slug’s neck, pinning it to the ground.

But the creature would not be denied. Even as its body was pierced, it continued its relentless effort to latch onto his foot.

He was forced to lift both legs entirely.

Now, braced with his sword, he hung at an angle, nearly losing his balance.

Quick thinking and swift movement allowed him to roll forward in a somersault, drawing his blade free as he leapt away.

He barely found his footing when the sound of frantic movement erupted behind him.

He turned—only to find that the slug he’d just skewered was already whole again, lunging for him anew, wounds vanished as if they’d never been.

Within its body, the golden liquid metal surged, radiating energy.

Ren Zhong’s head throbbed with frustration.

But now, having crossed blades with the creature, he had learned its every move.

This time, he avoided its attack with ease, and in passing, left a gash a foot long and three inches deep along its flank with his blade.

The cut met no resistance—it felt as though he was slicing through tofu rather than a Ruin Beast.

Yet, as his sword drew free, the wound’s leading edge was already healing, closing up instantly.

The slug’s regenerative prowess was no exaggeration.

A regular level-one fighter with limited ammunition would be left in tears.

But Ren Zhong was not ordinary. He jabbed the ground with his toe and, with a swift shake of his ankle, kicked up a clump of mud, flinging it at the sword tip. Some of the debris embedded itself in the wound before it could finish healing.

He leapt back and watched.

The Golden Slime Slug stopped its assault, remaining alert. The invasive dirt was being slowly expelled by its soft tissues, requiring visible effort and energy. The golden liquid within its body glowed even more intensely.

Excellent. The foreign body tactic had worked—it would now expend more energy to purge the intruder.

...

Half an hour later, limping, Ren Zhong approached the thoroughly dead first slug and donned his disassembler’s gloves to begin his work.

The other slug lay five meters away, its body mangled and riddled with wounds, so much mud embedded in its flesh it could have built a wall.

Within a radius of more than ten meters, bushes lay flattened, the ground pitted and scarred, and fragments of the Golden Slime Slugs’ glistening tissue were scattered everywhere.

His armor bore no obvious damage, but from his right knee, a translucent, viscous substance dripped steadily.

He’d been cautious, but not cautious enough. In its final moments, the second slug had managed to seize his right knee. In an instant, its semi-liquid body had oozed through the gaps in his armor.

Enduring the excruciating pain, Ren Zhong had hacked desperately at the creature, and, in a flash of inspiration, had stabbed the discarded acid spray canister with his sword and shoved it into the slug’s body.

The canister burst, what little corrosive remained spreading inside the beast. Only then did it release his knee.

Six minutes later, still limping, Ren Zhong returned to his motorcycle at the forest’s edge, placing a defective chip worth only fifteen points and a flawless chip worth thirty-five into his storage box.

He glanced at his knee, his mind reeling.

Damn it, his meniscus was gone.

Still, he had taken down fourteen level-two Ruin Beasts tonight—more than he could have stolen with Zheng Tian’s team on a raid—for a total haul of one hundred sixty contribution points.

Tonight’s reckless charge had been well worth the risk.

...

6:03 a.m., at the Miracle Hand Clinic. Sun Miao, toothbrush still foaming in his mouth, angrily wrenched open his nearly battered door—only to find the source of his nightmares had returned.

“Brother Sun, it’s been so long! I’ve missed you dearly. How’s your big project going? Did you miss me?”

“Damn you…” Sun Miao swore, “I’ve missed you so much I could die!”