Senior, please follow me along this path

As the group owner, Ye Ancai witnessed all the backend operations firsthand and was utterly dumbfounded—shocked from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head!

He never expected this supreme expert to be so ridiculously overpowered, treating the chat group—a golden cheat for transmigrators—like a mere plaything. The honest, rule-abiding members stood no chance against him. Authority equaled power!

As for this mysterious big shot, Ye Ancai had only one assessment: "Bold, unorthodox, ruthless, and sparing with words."

Though he couldn’t fathom the expert’s true level of strength, the way he casually manipulated the chat group suggested he was at least a Golden Immortal or higher.

After all, the chat group could effortlessly discipline Golden Immortals, while this revered powerhouse could effortlessly discipline the chat group itself!

Had he committed too many sins in his past life, inviting divine retribution? Was this his karmic punishment, the worst luck spanning eight lifetimes? How else could he, after millennia of smooth sailing, slip up just once during a nap and end up in this monster’s clutches?

"Sir… do I still have a chance?"

After squeezing Lingxiao dry of his wealth and securing a stable future income stream, Chen Yi could finally turn his attention to figuring out what exactly was going on in the "Calamity Realm."

Ye Ancai’s account had been commandeered. As the former Second Brother of the chat group, Chen Yi had countless methods to transfer the group’s anchor point from Ye Ancai’s consciousness.

For him, it was child’s play.

Even before rising to the rank of Second Brother, he had already mastered the technique of severing the chat group’s anchor from his own mind.

Now, after performing the same procedure on Ye Ancai, the poor man was scared half to death, muttering what sounded like a last will—only to realize he was unharmed, just missing something.

Oh, the chat group was gone?

Well, better gone than dead.

It wasn’t like he relied on it much anyway. Most of his cultivation came from the mysterious energy provided by the Bloodstained Pouch.

Though, admittedly, the Bloodstained Pouch was now gone too.

Ah, well. Nothing left but his life—good enough.

Truthfully, he didn’t care much for material possessions. As long as he could amuse himself, that was enough. And if amusing this supreme expert kept him alive? No shame in that.

Impressed by Ye Ancai’s compliance, Chen Yi released his control over him. Not only did he return the Bloodstained Pouch, but he even adorned Ye Ancai’s neck with a protective necklace of thirty-six Chaos-Colored Beads!

To be fair, venturing into the unknown Calamity Realm—the birthplace of the Calamity Progenitor—thirty-six beads might not be enough. At best, they could only synthesize one Four-Star and one Three-Star Chaos Avatar, leaving their risk resistance a tad lacking.

But what could he do? His avatars were all occupied, scattered across the cosmos executing critical missions. The fact that he could spare thirty-six was proof enough of his seriousness toward the "Calamity Realm."

As for going in person?

No need. Only a tribulation to ascend to immortality could excite him these days. Everything else? Meh.

"Senior, what brings you there?" Ye Ancai twisted his neck, feeling the weight of the necklace—a burden he wasn’t sure he could bear—and grew slightly nervous.

"Taking you home." Chen Yi kept it brief. The Calamity Realm was no simple place. Until they had a clearer picture, having this half-"local" guide would ensure a smoother trip.

Ye Ancai gulped. "And if we don’t return?"

"Quit the nonsense."

"Right away, Senior! This humble one shall lead the way!"

And so, Ye Ancai obediently—if tremblingly—set forth.

Like sunlight piercing through the night, dawn quietly breaks across the horizon.

In the desolate ruins of the city, the concrete jungle has shed its former neon glamour, now standing like a forsaken graveyard of towering tombstones beneath the ashen sky.

Amid the shattered glass facades of skyscrapers, glimpses of past prosperity remain. The broad asphalt roads are littered with rusted cars piled haphazardly, while skeletal remains lie peacefully, as if whispering tales of the catastrophe that struck in an instant.

Hope—in this era—is as rare and precious as diamonds.

Twisted, rotting humanoid creatures, reeking of decay, roam the urban wasteland. The slightest trace of life sends them into a frenzied rampage.

And now, hordes of these monsters are in the midst of such a frenzy.

"ROOOAAAR!!!"

Their guttural, rasping roars shatter the silence of the ruins.

"Big Brother, looks like we’re surrounded. What now?"

On the rooftop of a residential building, a naked man wreathed in blazing flames scratches his crotch, his tone laced with excitement.

In this apocalyptic world, only the strong survive. Monsters feed on the living, and the strong feed on monsters!

He’s deliberately strutting and flaunting his charm to lure a swarm of monsters—then wipe them all out in one go!

A single first-tier monster’s crystal core can fetch a hundred points in the safe zone. And a hundred points? That’s three months of premium housing, maid service, gourmet spirit cuisine...

Right now, beneath the residential building, there are at least thirty first-tier monsters, with the strongest among them nearly reaching second-tier strength!

Pull this off, and he’s set for years of luxury. No wonder Fire Man’s thrilled.

"Second Brother, relax. This measly number of Abyssals wouldn’t even fill us up. What would Sang Biao next door think? That we can’t afford a proper feast?"

Big Brother, a bald mountain of a man, plants one foot on the rooftop railing. A chilling wind swirls around him, crackling with arcs of electricity.

He summons a whirlwind in his palm and hurls it downward, instantly blasting aside the massive boulder sealing the sewer grate.

The streets may not have many monsters, but the damp, shadowy depths below? Plenty!

Thirty isn’t enough. Let’s make it three hundred—enough to live easy for years!

"Big Brother, just the two of us… can we really handle that?" Second Brother Fire Man tenses, his flames flaring hotter, scorching the air around him.

"Scared? This area’s been swept by the Divine Arms Unit. All Abyssals above third-tier are gone. Between the two of us, we’re invincible below third-tier. Even a horde of second-tiers is just free delivery! And if we get tired? We run. Simple!"

Big Brother licks his lips, the lightning around him surging violently.

Once enough monsters crawl out of the sewers, he barks:

"Now! Move out!"

The moment the words leave his mouth, the brothers charge forward—leaping off the rooftop in a dive of pure audacity.

Second Brother Fire Man summons a fiery dragon, herding the scattered monsters into a tight pack.

Meanwhile, Big Brother spreads his arms—one hand conjures a tornado, lifting the horde into the air, while the other drags a net of lightning over them, electrocuting the wind-stunned creatures into unconsciousness!

Live Abyssals fetch top price. Dead ones? Half or less. So catching three hundred alive is worth far more than six hundred corpses!

The brothers worked in perfect sync, swiftly wrapping up the 328 first-tier Netherfiends roaming the area, leaving only nine second-tier Netherfiends still putting up a feeble resistance.

"Whoo-hoo, let's take off!" Second Brother Fireboy couldn't contain his excitement, letting out a mischievous cackle:

"Gahahaha, nine second-tiers, and that beefiest one’s even a high-grade second-tier! Big Brother, after this haul, can I splurge on some top-tier escorts?"

"I’ll get you ten!" Big Brother, the bald leader, roared with laughter, tearing open his slightly charred collar to reveal a chest covered in needle-like, bristling hair.

But just as the brothers were about to have their way with the nine second-tier Netherfiends—

From the depths of a shadowy sewer grate, a pair of crimson eyes slowly ignited.