Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Heaven-Insect People

In the northeast of Hua Xia, mountains rose under thick, heavy storm clouds.

Giant mutated beasts swept through the skies. Beneath the earth, vines slithered for miles. Sometimes even trees ran on twisted roots, as if the forest itself wanted to hunt.

This place was far from the five major bases—an absolute danger zone.

A meteor slammed down with a thunderous impact, drawing mutated creatures from every direction.

Cough. Cough, cough, cough—

A young girl stumbled out of the smoke, hacking until a fierce wind finally tore the dust away.

She wiped her mouth and looked around, cheeks still soft with youth. Over her left eye, a Combat Power Detector flickered with jumping numbers.

Her expression changed.

“So unlucky,” she muttered. “How many strong creatures are nearby?”

“Seventh Seal… Eighth Seal…”

Her eyes widened. “There’s even Ninth Seal?”

She clicked her tongue, satisfied anyway. “Good thing it’s me who landed here. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t even make it out of these mountains.”

As mutated creatures began closing in, she drew a dagger and cut her finger.

Blood dripped onto the earth.

It spread into a hazy crimson mist, rolling outward.

The soil beneath her stirred.

The wider the blood mist spread, the more the ground trembled.

Then the earth burst open.

A massive centipede erupted from below and coiled around her like a living wall.

It was tens of meters long, its vicious body radiating violent imprint power without restraint.

Insects began gathering from every direction.

The mutated beasts that had been closing in suddenly retreated, as if something in the blood mist terrified them.

The sky blackened.

A swarm of palm-sized mosquitoes swept in, their proboscises flashing like blades.

The girl lifted her chin, leapt onto the centipede’s back, and grinned.

“Move,” she ordered. “Go find Little Zhao Er. Let’s see if you still dare fight me for Xiao brother.”

Her eyes blazed. “This time I’m going to beat you into the ground.”

The centipede surged forward, tearing the earth. Countless insects followed behind in a rolling wave, pouring out of the mountains like a marching sea.

For ten days, Wang Jie and the others stayed in the danger zone and hunted.

Since the night the second batch of Trialists arrived, mutated creatures truly had undergone a third transformation. Seventh Seal creatures became common. Eighth Seal creatures appeared regularly.

But they still fell beneath Wang Jie’s Heavenly Luo Xuan Finger.

The closest call was a pack of mutated crocodiles—three of them Eighth Seal. Qing Zheng nearly paid for that mistake.

But those crocodiles left behind a generous pile of disaster materials.

“If you can’t carry it, leave it with me,” Wen Zhao reminded them again.

Old Nine tightened his backpack straps. “I can carry it.”

Wen Zhao’s mouth tugged upward. She’d offered several times now. They didn’t trust her with their supplies, but watching them rotate carrying duties was oddly amusing.

Wang Jie stepped into Jia Eight Steps, bouncing off trees and leaving blurred afterimages. In a heartbeat, he snatched a bird spiraling overhead and slammed it down.

Five steps.

Before, he’d only managed three.

Now he matched Wen Zhao—she was only at five as well.

His understanding was frightening.

“That’s enough,” Wang Jie said. “We go back.”

The bird didn’t leave behind any disaster materials. A pity.

The aircraft rose and carried them home.

Wang Jie glanced at Wen Zhao. “How long until Ninth Seal?”

Wen Zhao didn’t even look at him. “It’s rude to ask about someone’s progress.”

Wang Jie smiled faintly. “Then you’re close.”

“You could be even faster than me,” Wen Zhao said. “You don’t need to care about what comes after.”

Wang Jie studied her. “Lockforce… is it really that hopeless?”

Wen Zhao laughed softly. “For a war slave cultivation method, speed is the point.”

“A war slave is cannon fodder,” she continued. “Batch after batch pushed onto the battlefield. All below Ten Seals. The method exists to raise realms quickly.”

She tilted her head. “Tell me—does that sound like it has a future?”

Wang Jie went quiet.

Qing Zheng blurted, “Then can we cultivate your power too?”

Wen Zhao gave him a look. “Very difficult. Once you cultivate Lockforce, it’s almost impossible to cultivate Starforce.”

“And leaking a cultivation method without the sect’s permission…” Her voice cooled. “Death.”

Qing Zheng shrank back instantly.

Wang Jie’s gaze sharpened. “You mentioned a strong enemy among the second batch.”

Wen Zhao’s expression darkened. “Heaven-Insect People.”

“A strange branch of humans. Their blood can command insects.”

Old Five whistled. “That’s a thing?”

“The universe is full of strange civilizations,” Wen Zhao said. “Humans alone have countless branches, and that’s before you even touch non-humans.”

She looked out at the horizon. “Who do you think you fight on the interstellar battlefield?”

“To be blunt, the interstellar battlefield has seen over a hundred human branches. Heaven-Insect People is low-ranked among them. The highest-ranked branches…” She paused. “You don’t even have the imagination for them.”

Old Nine swallowed. “Like the kind you mentioned—born with combat power beyond Ten Seals?”

Wen Zhao didn’t answer.

Back at the base, they filed their disaster materials.

The short-haired clerk stared as Wang Jie’s group laid the pile out—Seventh Seal, even Eighth Seal materials among them.

Her mouth fell open.

Seven hundred and sixty-eight points.

That was the current total of Blue Star Hunting Squad.

Only behind the tenth-ranked Can Hunting Squad.

But still not in the top ten.

They weren’t the only ones raising points. Every hunting squad was racing upward.

As soon as they returned, more news arrived.

The Shang Jing City meeting would continue, but the representatives had changed—second-batch Trialists would now take the lead.

Hong Jian broke through Eighth Seal.

Zuo Tian did too.

So did Bai Yuan.

Across Hua Xia, nearly every base had suffered a second-batch attack—and barely held.

Bai Xiao’s birthday party was canceled. A message without words: the situation was tightening like a noose.

The Trialists participating in the meeting would arrive soon.

Shang Jing City went on full alert.

Old Five and the others were given the filed disaster materials, with one instruction: reach Eighth Seal first.

Far away, in the northeast, Dong Shan Base trembled.

It was a small base—one of many scattered across Hua Xia, because most survivors couldn’t cross the distances needed to reach the five major bases.

They could only settle where they could.

Now, everyone at Dong Shan Base stared into despair.

A black mass approached—above ground, on the ground, even beneath the earth.

Insects.

Endless insects.

They’d endured beast tides.

But an insect sea was worse.

At the center crawled a centipede so enormous it made scalps crawl.

And yet, the insect sea didn’t attack.

It flowed around Dong Shan Base as if the base didn’t exist, pushing westward without wasting a heartbeat.

The people at Dong Shan Base stood frozen, watching it pass.

Why?

“Move! Move!” the girl on the centipede screamed, face flushed with excitement. “Little Zhao Er—wait for me! I’m coming!”

She looked like someone chasing a lifelong rival, intoxicated by the thought of victory. She’d joined this trial for this moment. Otherwise, as Heaven-Insect People, she could have entered the sect directly.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw someone sitting on the ridge of a shattered canyon.

She blinked. There really was a person up there.

A young man. His features weren’t remarkable… until you saw his eyes.

That gaze was unmistakable—mocking, contemptuous, amused, as if he were watching something beneath him.

The insect sea halted.

The girl frowned. A Trialist?

But she’d never seen him.

“Hey,” she called, voice sharp, “want a ride?”

The man looked down and smiled, tone lazy. “Little bug. Go play somewhere else.”

The girl’s face twisted.

Little bug?

Heaven-Insect People hated that name more than anything.

She slammed her palm down. “Go!”

The centipede reared up, towering like it would spear the sky.

Then the man’s gaze cooled.

The world turned bone-deep cold.

The girl’s vision drained of color, all life and warmth running backward until there was nothing left but him—nothing but that pair of eyes.

It felt like she—and the entire insect sea—had been crushed into a palm.

Sweat poured down her temples.

The centipede had already flattened itself to the ground, trembling, refusing to move.

The girl swallowed hard, face drained. She slapped the centipede again, weaker this time.

The centipede spun and fled.

The insect sea surged away with it, desperate to put distance between themselves and those eyes.

The man withdrew his gaze. One leg dangled off the ridge as he swung it lazily, humming some unknown tune.

Far away, the girl panted on the centipede’s back and stared at her trembling arm.

Who was that?

There shouldn’t be someone that terrifying among Trialists. Everyone should be below Ten Seals. At most, he should have been Eighth Seal. Jia Yi Sect wouldn’t make a mistake.

So why did he feel like that?

She was supposed to be invincible.

No one could break her insect sea.

What was wrong with him?

Days later, Shang Jing City received Trialists from every direction.

First batch and second batch combined—over a hundred in total.

So far, nine had arrived in Shang Jing City.

Not counting Wen Zhao and Qi Wu, there were seven.

At Nan Guo Base, one of the Five Extremes—Lian Qin—personally escorted a Trialist to Shang Jing City.

Meanwhile, Wang Jie was miserable.

He had no idea how to explain to the brothers that he wasn’t some kind of pervert.

Yesterday, he’d come up with a solution for proposal letters.

Buy them.

Simple. Direct. Effective.

A random letter wouldn’t work. It had to be “sincere,” apparently, so he ran an experiment: Qing Zheng offered a woman an absurd amount of money for a proposal letter addressed to Wang Jie.

The woman cried on the spot.

She wrote with shaking hands.

Whether her sincerity was for Qing Zheng or for the money didn’t matter—Wang Jie got the letter, and it worked.

So he told Qing Zheng to keep going.

Ten proposal letters were gathered quickly.

Along with Snow-White Canine Tooth and Sweet Tears, he now had three materials.

Only Loser’s Will and Villain’s Severed Palm remained.

Unfortunately, everyone’s eyes on him had gone strange.

Wang Jie didn’t know how to explain. All he could do was mutter that the pressure was getting to him.

That day, Wen Zhao received an invitation to a gathering organized by Trialists.

She went.

And she brought Wang Jie.

No one had said she couldn’t.

The gathering was held at the same restaurant Qing Zheng had shown them before.

A small gathering.

Not many people.

But still more than ten.

Most were Trialists, clustered together in quiet conversation. Besides Wang Jie, others had been brought along too—Lian Qin and Lian Fei among them.

Qi Wu was enthusiastically selling Combat Power Detectors, and Lian Qin looked genuinely interested.

Shang Jing City already had several—purchased, not gifted.

Who knew how many Qi Wu had carried in.

When Wang Jie entered, Qi Wu’s eyes lit up. He walked straight over.

Lian Qin and Lian Fei looked at Wang Jie.

“That’s him?” Lian Qin asked.

Lian Fei nodded. “He’s strong. At the very least, Hong Jian isn’t his match.”

Lian Qin studied Wang Jie, eyes bright and measuring.