Chen Guan thought for a moment, then handed her a compressed ration bar. “Eat something. It’ll help you warm up.”
Su Yuehe took it, tore open the wrapper, and bit into it. “Thanks.”
She took another bite, then said after a long pause, “Mother told me to go eat at the cafeteria earlier. I didn’t.”
Chen Guan didn’t respond.
Su Yuehe gave a small laugh and slipped the rest of the ration bar into her pocket. “Forget it. Let’s not talk about this.”
The team advanced another three hundred meters or so. The purple crystals on the ground grew increasingly dense, changing from scattered specks into broad patches of color.
An Changqing stopped again.
This time, it wasn’t because of the detector.
“Did you hear that?”
His voice was very low. Everyone instinctively held their breath at his words. After a while, nothing happened.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
Qin Wu shook his head, the veteran being the first to speak.
An Changqing shook his head. “No, it’s—”
Before he could finish, Li Yuqing suddenly spoke. “I heard it. Human voices, but they’re far away. I can’t make out what they’re saying.”
Wang Shuo’s expression changed. “Could it be a hallucination?”
“Not necessarily.”
An Changqing rested a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. “Senior, can you tell what direction it’s coming from?”
Li Yuqing closed her eyes and listened closely for several seconds. “East-northeast, about four hundred meters away.”
Baal’s voice sounded in Chen Guan’s mind, tinged with amusement. “Interesting. That isn’t a hallucination.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s a real sound. It just doesn’t belong to this point in time.”
Chen Guan frowned. “Explain.”
“The spacetime structure near a rift is unstable. Sometimes sounds seep through from other timelines—possibly from the past, possibly from the future.”
Baal’s tone was teasing. “What do you humans call that again? An echo?”
An echo?
Chen Guan’s pupils contracted. He knew that term all too well.
“It’s not the same as yours.”
Baal immediately saw through his thoughts. “Your Echo is a manifestation of mythic power. This is a natural phenomenon—a byproduct left behind when the rift tears spacetime apart.”
Ahead of them, An Changqing had already made his decision.
“The whole team will maintain the current formation and advance toward the sound source. Cut our speed in half.”
“Wait.”
Wang Shuo stopped him. “Our mission is to locate the source of the anomaly, not investigate some voices. What if it’s a trap?”
“The sound source overlaps with the direction of the anomaly source.”
An Changqing looked at him. “To locate the anomaly source, we have to head that way anyway.”
Wang Shuo opened his mouth, only to find he had nothing to say.
After another hundred meters or so, Chen Guan heard the voices too.
They were faint, like human voices coming through a thick pane of glass—broken and intermittent, the words impossible to distinguish.
But one thing was certain: they were speaking a human language.
“I hear it too,” Long Ao said quietly, his fists already clenched.
Su Yuehe’s steps faltered. “Is that… Huaxia?”
Chen Guan strained to make out the blurred syllables.
It was indeed Huaxia.
And there was more than one voice.
It sounded like many people talking at once—noisy and chaotic, yet muffled by something until only wispy fragments remained.
“…Retreat… don’t… that direction…”
Broken fragments of speech seeped out of the void.
An Changqing stopped in his tracks.
A moment later, everyone else stopped as well.
Because they had all clearly heard the final sentence.
“…Don’t come any closer…”
Wang Shuo was the first to speak, his voice tight. “That was a warning. Someone—or something—is warning us not to go any farther.”
An Changqing’s hand remained on the hilt of his sword. “The entire team will fall back fifty meters. Maintain defensive formation.”
“An Changqing, what do you mean?” Wang Shuo’s voice was urgent. “That was a warning. We should withdraw from this place immediately.”
An Changqing turned his head toward him. “I need to confirm the nature of the sound source and report it. Only then can we authorize a withdrawal.”
He had noticed that these students from Yanjing Academy were still somewhat timid, jumping at every little thing and showing little discipline.
The people from Huaqing, on the other hand, were much calmer. After all, Huaqing was a grand stage—if you couldn’t handle the heat, you shouldn’t come.
Three days to escape a fugitive, five days to confront a demon. Anyone would learn to keep their cool after experiences like that.
The team slowly retreated. The soles of twelve pairs of boots crushed the purple crystals, the sound unnaturally clear across the empty wasteland.
Once they had reached the designated position, An Changqing took out the satellite phone.
“White Eagle, this is East Survey Team One reporting.”
A brief burst of static came through the phone, followed by White Eagle’s voice.
“White Eagle here. Report.”
“Our team has discovered an anomaly northeast of the designated survey zone. Its intensity is three times that of the surrounding area, exceeding our preliminary estimates.”
An Changqing continued his report. “At the same time, approximately four hundred meters from the anomaly’s source, the entire team picked up what appears to be a temporal-spatial echo. The message was in Chinese and carried a clear warning.”
White Eagle’s voice came through again. “Repeat the warning.”
“Don’t come any closer.” An Changqing enunciated each word. “Three words. Confirmed by multiple members of the team.”
White Eagle’s order finally came.
“East Survey Team One, cease your advance immediately. Return along your original route to the rendezvous point. Repeat: return along your original route to the rendezvous point.”
Wang Shuo let out a long breath, his tense shoulders sagging.
An Changqing did not end the call. “Team leader, we’ve collected less than thirty percent of the data. Should I continue gathering information from a safe distance—”
“No need.” White Eagle cut him off directly. “The anomaly data you’ve collected is already sufficient. Leave the rest to the unmanned probes. Bring your people back.”
“Understood.”
An Changqing ended the call and turned to face the team.
“You heard him. We’re heading back the way we came.”
Qin Wu had already begun packing up the portable detection equipment they had just deployed, his movements swift and efficient.
Li Yuqing performed one final backup of the instrument data before slipping it into the side pocket of her pack.
The students from Yanjing Academy also began gathering their gear. Their lips were tightly pressed together, and their movements were noticeably stiff.
Only Wang Shuo remained where he was, staring at An Changqing’s back.
“An Changqing.”
An Changqing turned around.
“Were you still thinking about pressing on just now?” There was something strange in Wang Shuo’s tone.
An Changqing glanced at him. “The data wasn’t sufficient. Our assessment after we get back would be compromised, which would be detrimental to the missions that follow.”
“Still, an order is an order.” An Changqing stored the detector in his storage ring. “Let’s go.”
Wang Shuo said nothing further and followed the group.
He had long heard that this year’s freshmen at Huaqing were a particularly audacious bunch. Seeing them today, he found the rumors entirely true.
Chen Guan walked toward the rear of the group. Su Yuehe was ahead and to his right, her pace noticeably faster than it had been on the way over.
Baal’s voice surfaced again. “Aren’t you curious who that voice belonged to?”
Chen Guan replied in his mind, “I am, but now isn’t the time to investigate.”
“Fair enough. Staying alive comes first.” Baal’s tone was airy. “Still, Lord Bael will kindly remind you of one thing: the emotion in that voice was benevolent.”
Benevolent?
Chen Guan’s pace did not falter, but his mind was already racing.
What could possibly lie ahead, if it had prompted someone to issue a warning out of goodwill?
Chen Guan glanced helplessly at An Changqing. Sure enough, wherever An Changqing went, trouble followed.
Could it be because he was the Hero Baal had mentioned?

ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!

] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"

ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!

ver to a world of cultivation and returned invincible. Modern medicine is child's play compared to elixirs; technological might crumbles before true cultivation. My name is Qin Ning, Earth's sole cultivator!