Rest Now, Friend

The body of Jing Qingbai began to tremble violently—not from fear, but from suppressed rage.

He glared at Chen Guan’s utterly emotionless eyes. After a long moment, Jing Qingbai forced several words through clenched teeth.

“You barbaric bastard!”

Chen Guan’s wrist shifted slightly, and the black flames on his scythe leaped in response. The threat was unmistakable.

Jing Qingbai closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the anger in them had turned to ashes. He raised his trembling left hand, and the identification terminal on his wrist gave off a ghostly blue glow.

Crack.

The crisp sound of shattering was especially jarring in the silent forest.

Wrapped in blue light, Jing Qingbai’s figure gradually turned transparent. He cast one last look at Chen Guan, the venom in his eyes almost tangible.

“I’ll remember you.”

The light faded, leaving behind only a few fallen leaves stirred by the wind.

Silence returned to the forest.

Chen Guan withdrew his scythe, and the black flames quietly went out. He turned around, his gaze falling on Ross, who was still sprawled on the ground some distance away.

Ross jolted, then scrambled to his feet on all fours, forcing a smile onto his face that looked worse than crying.

“Nicely done, Chen! I knew you could do it!” he said, edging backward without making it too obvious.

Chen Guan said nothing. He calmly wiped the blade of his scythe, removing the trace of Jing Qingbai’s blood.

Ross’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Um… where are we going next?” Ross ventured, trying to ease the tension.

“We?” Chen Guan finally spoke, repeating the word back to him.

The smile on Ross’s face froze completely.

“Chen, we’re allies, aren’t we?” He pointed at his own tattered combat uniform and spoke earnestly. “I took a fatal blow for you just now. Look, I’m injured.”

“That’s right. You’re injured.” Chen Guan repeated the statement.

“Yes, yes!” Ross nodded repeatedly, as though he had seized a lifeline.

“So, my friend, you should go back and recuperate.” Chen Guan calmly stated another fact, his eyes level as he looked at him.

All the color drained from Ross’s face.

He looked at Chen Guan, then at the pitch-black scythe in Chen Guan’s hand—the same scythe that had just sent one genius packing. His throat bobbed with difficulty.

“I…I can walk on my own,” Ross said, his voice trembling as he made one last desperate attempt. “I promise I won’t hold you back.”

Chen Guan remained silent. He simply picked up his scythe and patted Baobao on the head.

Baobao cooperated perfectly. It padded over to Ross’s feet, raised its head, and stared up at him with purple eyes full of innocent curiosity. A purring rumble came from its throat.

Ross, however, stumbled back two steps in fright. Afraid that this starving leopard might suddenly decide to eat him, he nearly dropped back onto the ground.

By now, he finally understood. This student from Huaqing Academy was no hot-blooded youth. He was a thoroughgoing pragmatist—nothing like Dragon.

Ross’s chest rose and fell several times before he put that stiff smile back on his face. He raised his left hand and gave the terminal on his wrist an elegant little display.

“All right, Chen. Looks like our cooperation ends here.” He shrugged. “Good luck. I hope you don’t run into our captain, Captain Charles. He’s a lot tougher to deal with than I am.”

“I eliminated you once last year, and you eliminated me once this year. I guess that makes us even, Chen.”

With that, he hesitated no longer. He pressed down hard with his thumb and cleanly crushed the terminal.

Blue light flared, and Ross’s figure vanished from the forest.

The entire battlefield was left with only Chen Guan and Baobao.

“Awoo.”

Baobao rubbed its head against his trouser leg, breaking the silence.

“Hungry.”

Chen Guan wore an exasperated expression. How was it hungry again?

This leopard was impossibly difficult to keep fed. If only he had known, he would have made his good friend Ross feed it before going back to recuperate.

After getting rid of the two nuisances, Chen Guan rested in place for a while.

He checked his condition. That slash imbued with black flames had indeed consumed a considerable amount of his strength.

The power was satisfying to use, but the consequences were just as deadly. It was far too conspicuous, making him an easy target.

With so many eyes watching, he could no longer display his strength as freely as he had before.

“Hungry.”

Baobao’s cry pulled him back from his thoughts. It nudged Chen Guan’s hand with its head, its purple eyes filled with grievance.

Chen Guan sighed. After rummaging around for quite some time, he managed to find only a demon core of exceedingly ordinary quality.

“Make do with this. Tonight’s budget is already way over.”

Baobao flicked out its tongue, and the demon core vanished. It smacked its lips a few times, clearly unable to taste much of anything. Its hunger had not eased in the slightest.

It pawed at the ground, tracing circles in the dirt, looking utterly world-weary.

Seeing this, Chen Guan lightly nudged its rear with the tip of his foot, annoyed. White Tiger had spoiled its palate rotten.

It was all White Tiger’s fault!

“All right, stop acting.”

He rose to his feet and hoisted the heavy black coffin onto his back once more, then determined his direction.

“As planned, we’ll head to the central district and meet up with the others.”

The central area was a deserted city. With its many buildings and complicated terrain, it was the best place to regroup and hide.

Chen Guan patted Baobao on the head and soothed it. “Come on. Once we’re out, I’ll find you something to eat.”

Baobao’s ears immediately perked up. Its tail began to wag as well, and it trotted after Chen Guan on all fours, looking as cheerful as could be.

The figures of man and leopard soon disappeared into the dim depths of the forest.

…

After traveling for roughly half an hour, the surroundings grew increasingly eerie.

Chen Guan stopped and listened carefully.

Amid the wind moving through the forest, he heard the faint clashing of metal and restrained gasps.

Someone was fighting.

Chen Guan made a hand signal. Baobao understood at once, lowering its body without a sound and blending into the bushes nearby.

Chen Guan himself concealed his presence and used the cover of a thick tree trunk as he crept toward the source of the noise.

He pushed aside the final broad fern leaf, and the scene ahead came into view.

In a small clearing, a thin figure leaned against a boulder, panting raggedly.

He wore black-rimmed glasses. The brand-new academy combat uniform he had on was already torn in several places, and his face was smeared with mud.

It was Shan Heng.

Opposite him, three modified creatures resembling metal hounds advanced slowly, surrounding him.

Red electronic lights flickered in the hounds’ eye sockets, while corrosive lubricant dripped from the corners of their mouths.

Shan Heng pushed up his slipping glasses. There was little fear in his eyes behind the lenses.

He gripped a strangely shaped short staff. The rays fired from its tip struck the metal hounds, leaving behind nothing more than patches of charred black. They could not penetrate the creatures’ armor at all.

“Physical resistance is too high. Attacks ineffective… This is troublesome.”

Shan Heng muttered to himself. He glanced at the perfectly intact terminal on his wrist, seemingly debating whether he should simply forfeit.