Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Beast Tide

Wang Jie smiled.

His fingers lifted, and spiral qi force tore Uncle Ling’s arm in half.

Uncle Ling didn’t even have time to react before Wang Jie slammed a palm into his shoulder.

Uncle Ling and the Eldest Young Master went flying—straight toward the moon plant.

A massive green leaf yawned open behind them.

The Eldest Young Master’s wail rose into the dark, pure despair.

Uncle Ling stared at Wang Jie in shock. Impossible. That finger technique—how could it be so strong? Even his sixth-seal cultivation hadn’t been able to block it.

Pain dragged him back to reality. He looked over his shoulder.

The leaf was coming.

He spun, threw the Eldest Young Master away, and kicked him—hard—into the leaf.

Using the recoil, Uncle Ling changed direction and fled.

The Eldest Young Master’s scream cut off as he disappeared.

Uncle Ling ran, drenched in sweat, clutching his severed arm. But he’d underestimated the moon plant.

At this range, escape was an illusion.

The leaf swallowed the Eldest Young Master.

Then it swallowed Uncle Ling too.

Darkness closed in completely.

In the fading distance, Uncle Ling saw Wang Jie fleeing beneath the moon plant’s shadow. Something about his silhouette felt strangely familiar.

And then it clicked.

The top entry on the bounty board.

Sixteen to twenty.

At least five combat techniques.

So it was him.

Far away, Wang Jie’s figure flickered at extreme speed. Before long, he burst out of the moon plant’s hunting range.

He looked back.

Leaf after leaf devoured earth and flesh alike. Under the moonlight, the giant monster was beyond terrifying—something that didn’t belong in any human world.

Wang Jie panted, wrist throbbing. The injury was deep. A sixth-seal expert really did have some ability.

If Uncle Ling was like that, then Feng Yu would be even stronger.

Luckily, Wang Jie had been cautious back then—using borrowed force, avoiding a direct clash. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have ended so cleanly.

Now things were getting troublesome.

He’d gone out as the Zhao family’s guide… and the entire Zhao team had been wiped out.

What was he supposed to do?

The Zhao clan would blame him. Of course they would.

Wang Jie coughed, and blood slid from the corner of his mouth. Old injuries had been stirred awake again.

He needed to rest. At least one night.

The moment the Zhao family’s Eldest Young Master died, the Zhao clan inside Jin Ling Base learned.

“The Young Master’s life signal vanished. Before death, he encountered a combat force stronger than the Five Poles. It should be the moon plant—we observed it rising just now.”

A middle-aged man stood with hands clasped behind his back, gaze dark. “How could they ‘happen’ to run into the moon plant? It never appears without signs. With A Ling’s strength, he should’ve been able to get him out.”

He turned slightly. “Investigate. See if anyone survived.”

“Yes, Family Head.”

Wang Jie stayed far from the moon plant and found a high-rise in the outer suburbs to rest.

From there he could still see the moon plant thrashing and feeding beneath the moonlight.

He also had what he needed now—an evil man’s severed finger.

Uncle Ling’s.

That man had tried to use him as bait. If that wasn’t evil, what was?

But in the apocalypse…

Were there any good people left?

Including himself.

Wang Jie entered the gray, hazy world and placed Uncle Ling’s finger into the second green sprout.

The sprout folded inward.

It worked.

Now all that remained was the tears of a heartbroken girl.

He didn’t know if Hui Zhua was dead.

Leaning against the window, Wang Jie closed his eyes and forced himself to rest.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out before the building suddenly shook.

Wang Jie’s eyes snapped open. He looked down.

A black mass flowed across the ground.

A rat tide.

His scalp went numb.

In the wild, the most frightening things were, first, monsters you couldn’t resist at all—plants and beasts so powerful they made struggle meaningless.

Second…

A beast tide.

Among them, a rat tide was one of the worst. Countless mutant rats rushed forward without fear of death. If you couldn’t break out immediately, you’d be buried alive.

Wang Jie didn’t understand why a rat tide would come here.

Thankfully, it wasn’t targeting him. It streamed past the building, squealing as it surged into the distance.

Behind the rats, a shadow flickered.

Wang Jie moved to the back window.

The sky was a black mass too, sweeping in the same direction.

Not good.

That was Jin Ling Base.

A beast tide had erupted.

In ten years of apocalypse, Hua Xia had built far more than five bases—but most had fallen. Some were destroyed by powerful plants and beasts.

Most were ruined by beast tides.

Jin Ling Base had faced beast tides before, more than once. Thanks to Hong Jian—one of the Five Poles—and the cultivators of the base fighting together, they’d held the line.

Now another tide was coming.

Wang Jie drew a slow breath, gaze heavy, then looked again toward the moon plant.

It had grown bigger—again.

His mind flashed to the mutant peacock.

Everything was changing.

As he stood there, a sharp screech tore down from above, forming a visible shockwave that rolled through the air.

Every pane of glass shattered at once.

Wang Jie felt as if something had slammed into his skull. His vision blurred. He nearly blacked out.

He braced against the wall.

The whole building trembled, on the verge of collapse.

Through the broken window, he looked east.

A gigantic bird hovered in the sky, flaming wings spread wide. It lifted its head and screamed again.

The screech hit.

Wang Jie crouched into a corner, grinding his teeth through the pain.

The hawk.

Outside Jin Ling Base, there were a few mutant plants and beasts you didn’t provoke. The moon plant was one.

The hawk was another.

The hawk shouldn’t have compared to the moon plant—yet with one glance, Wang Jie could tell it had doubled in size.

Even if it still wasn’t equal to the moon plant, it wasn’t far behind anymore.

It was clearing its territory.

Another screech rolled outward. Centered on the hawk, mutant plants and beasts within dozens of li surged and sprinted toward Jin Ling Base.

So the hawk had started the beast tide.

Wang Jie forced his breathing steady.

A huge shadow swept across the clouds.

The hawk moved too—flying straight toward Jin Ling Base.

Wang Jie watched it go, worry tightening his chest.

Could Hong Jian stop it?

Unlikely.

Then Wang Jie’s eyes narrowed.

The hawk had screeched once, and that alone was enough to drive a tide.

But it had screeched three times.

There was only one explanation.

It wanted to make absolutely sure there were no mutant plants or beasts left in its territory.

It was guarding something.

Wang Jie glanced east toward Jin Ling Base, expression sharpening.

Then he turned and went the opposite way—toward where the hawk had been.

At the same time, the hawk’s screech triggered alarms across Jin Ling Base.

At Xuan Lake, Hong Jian’s face was grim as he stared east. “Activate first-level alert.”

Orders snapped out over speakers and shouted voices.

“Get everyone into the base! Children and women to the shelters first. Cultivators hold the front. Ordinary people stay behind—”

Lights flared across Jin Ling Base. The gates yawned open, and people living outside surged in like a flood.

On the walls, cultivators marched into position in neat lines and stared east.

Drones launched and swept outward.

Zhao cultivators preparing to leave were stopped on the spot.

First-level alert meant a beast tide.

A life-and-death crisis.

Even if they weren’t stopped, none of them would’ve gone out. It would’ve been suicide.

The ground trembled.

Drone after drone lost contact.

Jin Ling Base showed why it was one of Hua Xia’s five major bases. Tens of thousands of cultivators stood ready, and the walls were packed.

Even so, no one felt safe.

A vortex formed in the center of Xuan Lake. Hong Jian’s gaze snapped to it. Was the hawk’s screech affecting even the beasts in the water?

He raised his arm and slashed.

A violent wind condensed into a visible blade and cleaved the lake, splitting the vortex in two. Crimson blood spread from the center as ugly little fish surged up to devour it.

Hong Jian flicked his hand.

The remaining wind blades swept across and shredded every fish that broke the surface.

The lake calmed again.

Wind-Rending Eight Blades—an overbearing blade method.

In the Clean Zone, Old Five and Old Nine sat by a windowsill, staring into the distance. They couldn’t see anything beyond the walls.

“Old Boss still hasn’t come back,” Old Five rasped.

“At times like this,” Old Nine murmured, “outside might actually be safer than here.”

Cultivators ran through the streets. In the materials district, disaster materials were being hauled out—during wartime, everything was pooled for distribution, and after the war, Jin Ling Base would settle accounts.

The tremors grew stronger.

“Look at the sky!”

Someone shouted.

Darkness rolled in like storm clouds.

Then countless black feather-arrows streaked toward Jin Ling Base.

“Defend!”

A man in a black leather jacket with a thick gold chain roared from the wall.

Mechanisms unfolded. Iron netting rose up from within the city wall.

Bang, bang, bang—sparks exploded as the netting blocked the black feathers.

Heavy weapons had been destroyed ten years ago, but technology hadn’t ended. The ancient-looking Jin Ling wall was fused with modern systems, capable of deploying thick metal nets in layers to intercept projectiles.

On the ground, a black tide approached. The first wave was the mutant rats. When they came within a kilometer of Jin Ling, they began to dig.

Behind them came larger mutant beasts, many so warped by mutation they were hard to recognize.

From the distance, yellow fireballs smashed toward the wall.

They came from mutant toads, each with a dark yellow lantern bulging from its forehead. The fireballs spewed from those lanterns.

In another direction, mutant plants advanced. Vines tunneled beneath the soil.

At the base of the wall, Feng Yu stared into the earth. “They’re here. Move.”

A vine surged up and tried to leap over the wall into the city.

Feng Yu’s dart flashed and sliced it clean.

Behind her, cultivators planted both hands to the ground and released combat techniques. Force blasted into the earth hard enough to shake the wall itself.

Then rain began to fall.

Green rain.

It drifted in on the wind.

“Acid fish,” someone snapped. “Have the drones locate the source.”

“Located. An artificial lake thirty li to the northeast.”

“Form a strike team. Cut through and stop the rain first.”

This green rain could corrode even stone.

Inside the city, countless people were hit. Flesh dissolved. Screams filled the streets.

At the northwest gate, a burly man clenched a cigar between his teeth, blowing smoke rings as he grinned. “Finally. Something big. Guarding this place every day is boring.”

He cracked his neck. “Brothers—move.”

A twenty-man cultivator team charged after him into the northwest.

Thirty li ahead, a small lake boiled with motion. Green fish floated upright and spat toward the sky. To the east of the lake, dozens of huge birds flapped their wings, whipping up a cyclone that carried the green spray toward Jin Ling.

War had arrived with no warning.

Even the moonlight was swallowed, leaving darkness.

Every beast tide, whether for cultivators or ordinary people, was pure torment.