Chapter Twenty-Eight: Fury

The three-eyed iron demon, its throat trapped, let out a silent howl and began to struggle. Ji Cheng’s fingers curled into claws, desperately attempting to tear its throat open, but his efforts were in vain.

“What tough skin!”

He realized he had underestimated the demon’s defenses. Its thick, resilient hide was embedded with iron filaments deep within, much like steel bars mixed into concrete. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break through.

Despite most of its brain tissue being destroyed, the iron demon’s vitality was fierce, its struggle as wild as an enraged boar.

Ji Cheng shifted tactics, trying to lock its hands, but failed. The demon thrashed, pounding the ground with its arms, nearly tossing him aside.

Cursing, Ji Cheng released his grip and retreated.

He dared not let the demon’s terrifying iron filaments touch him. The dose of Tyrant Serum he’d received only protected the area around one arm; any other unguarded part scraped by those wires would end in a gruesome death.

He stepped back quickly, heading toward the forest. The demon rose and charged at him, crazed, snapping tree trunks as it went. Then, the dense vines tangled around it, slowing it dramatically.

Avoiding its attack with ease, Ji Cheng swept out his leg in a fierce kick, toppling the monster.

A cloud of spores and dust billowed from the ground.

Like a leopard, Ji Cheng pounced, pinning the creature to the crackling dead branches with brutal force.

“Die!” With a roar, his blue-black arm, like a drill, drove with savage power straight through the hole in the demon’s brow.

The hole, originally the size of a thumb, was brutally torn open by the steel-forged arm, shards of bone bursting forth before blood and brain matter could spill.

“Sometimes it’s better not to trust everything you read.” He panted heavily. “This little thing’s head was turned to mush by bullets, and it still put up a fight.”

The Handbook claimed the iron demon’s weakness was the hole in its brow—strike its brain through it, and it would die easily.

Clearly, reality proved otherwise.

That entry had been written years ago by a capable individual who found it easy to kill the demon by striking its brain. Others had wanted to revise it, but out of respect for the author—and since ordinary people fled from mutated beasts rather than fought—they left it as it was.

“But I made mistakes myself,” Ji Cheng reflected.

After shooting the demon in the head, he’d relaxed his guard for a half second, only realizing it wasn’t dead too late, and rushed over.

Instead of continuing to attack the brow hole, he’d tried to crush its throat—a decision that nearly cost him his life.

“This has to change! The wilderness is too dangerous, death lies everywhere. If I ever let myself relax in a life-or-death battle, even for half a second, it could kill me ten times over.”

Though he’d faced danger in Black Isle’s secret experiments, the Tyrant Serum had just been injected then, filling him with bloodlust and drowning out the sense of peril. But now, the danger felt far more real.

He understood that his naturally careless disposition—and the thrill-seeking habits inherited from his original self—could very well get him killed.

Isn’t that how villains always meet their end?

“At least I should be cautious. Don’t get too excited when danger comes—life is precious and there’s only one…”

He touched the spot above his right ear, where the communicator sat. The matte casing pressed coolly against his ear.

Ji Cheng drew a deep breath of the blood-scented air, a faint smile curling at his lips.

“Well then… time to keep looking for a fight.”

He swiftly followed the river away, leaving only the corpse of the three-eyed iron demon behind, its blood staining the ground.

…

Southport New City, Jade District.

This bustling city center, where every inch of land was precious, housed a private estate enclosed by high walls, spanning several square miles.

Entering through gates guarded by ranks of security, one was greeted by lush willow groves stretching as far as the eye could see.

At the edge of the grove lay a wide artificial lake, with giant stones scattered across its waters, reaching toward the steep slope on the far side. A waterfall, like a white ribbon, poured down the center of the slope, foam floating on the surface as it crashed into the deep lake.

Such a place could only belong to the strongest of the capable.

Inside a lakeside building, a man whose age could not be discerned sat serenely, sipping tea.

Before him hovered an intelligent lifeform, its mechanical body shaped like a jellyfish.

“Husband, you’ve gotten thinner lately,” came the ethereal electronic voice.

Suddenly, the jarring ring of the doorbell shattered the rare tranquility.

“Is it Shang Bai or Old Wei?” Zhou Ze asked softly.

He knew someone would come at this hour, most likely one of his two trusted capable associates.

“Just come in.”

Zhou Ze’s eyes remained closed, still immersed in the fragrance of tea, unwilling to be disturbed.

“Bad news, Boss.” Before Zhou Ze finished, Lu Shang Bai burst in.

“This year’s selection for capable candidates is going to be a disaster!”

“Hm?” Zhou Ze’s eyes snapped open.

“What happened?”

A sense of foreboding crept over him.

“I just got the details—the exact process for this year’s selection.” Lu Shang Bai carefully handed over a file.

Normally, he wouldn’t have gotten his hands on it, but remembering his younger brother Ji Cheng was a participant, he’d decided to ask for a copy.

Having barely glanced at the beginning, he’d been shocked and rushed to Zhou Ze for help.

“Every year’s selection is much the same, isn’t it?” Zhou Ze didn’t take the file, instead staring directly into Lu Shang Bai’s eyes.

“This year is different,” Lu Shang Bai rasped. “You’ll see for yourself, Boss.”

Only then did Zhou Ze accept the file, flipping through it.

“...The plane will self-destruct after arriving over the island... a total of 110 parachute packs, 55 of which are fakes... collect as many communicators as possible, select…”

Zhou Ze’s face flashed with anger and shock, struggling to restrain his hands from tearing the file apart.

“Who set this process? Damn it, damn it!”

“What should we do now?” Lu Shang Bai was anxious.

“To the airport!” Zhou Ze growled.

The jellyfish-shaped intelligent lifeform sighed, “You’re leaving again?”

“Hello, Sister-in-law,” Lu Shang Bai greeted it hurriedly.

“It’s urgent,” Zhou Ze replied, rushing out with Lu Shang Bai.

...

At the airport, a group stood nervously.

“Can anyone tell me what’s going on with the process this time? Why is the plane set to self-destruct? And so many fake parachute packs?” Zhou Ze raged, his graying hair disheveled, a testament to his foul mood.

“Senator Huang, why is Senator Yao here too?” Lu Shang Bai whispered to a short, stout elder with his hair tied back.

This elder was Huang Long, a senator-level powerhouse.

When notifying Zhou Ze, Lu Shang Bai had remembered that Huang Long had also given Ji Cheng a slot, so he messaged him as well.

Therefore, Huang Long’s presence was expected. But Senator Yao, who was usually reclusive and rarely appeared—why was he here?

“His son is participating in the selection,” Huang Long replied, voice low enough for only Lu Shang Bai to hear.

A military officer stepped forward from the crowd, stammering nervously, “It… it was Chairman Zhang who set the process long ago. We’re just following orders.” His rank was not low, but before these three giants, he struggled to say even a sentence.

The others barely dared breathe.

Who could imagine that an ordinary selection for capable candidates would alarm three senators—just a group of people who hadn’t even become capable yet. Who could wield so much influence?

At that moment, they all recalled the figure wearing a black mask.

As staff responsible for the selection, they knew well about the incident at boarding—a masked, mysterious figure whose ID, when scanned, returned only top-secret records.

Could he have attracted these superiors whose presence could shake Southport with a mere stomp?

“Where is the plane now? Is there any way to stop the self-destruct? Who’s in charge—bring them to me!” Zhou Ze could barely control his voice.

The officer’s head hung, his voice trembling. “Acc… according to the schedule, the plane has already self-destructed.”

Zhou Ze fell silent.

After a long pause, he waved his hand, dismissing the others.

The airport hall was left with only Lu Shang Bai and the three senators.

“Since that incident, Chairman Zhang’s actions have become more and more extreme. I’m really worried,” Huang Long sighed.

In his memory, Zhang Sheng’s youth was remarkable—he’d risen from an ordinary capable to greatness, even successfully injecting the last third-stage gene prototype in Southport eight years ago, leading his followers out of Southport City to establish Southport New City.

Today, New City’s power far surpassed Southport City—many outsiders recognized only New City, not the old city-state.

But since returning from Ruins No. 13 two years ago, Zhang Sheng seemed to have become obsessed, his decisions growing ever stranger.

“I just want to know if my son died in that damned place!” Senator Yao was nearly hysterical.

“Calm down, Old Yao. Let’s check the monitoring room,” Huang Long soothed.

“Hmph.” Senator Yao snorted and strode out of the airport.

Huang Long turned to Zhou Ze, trying to comfort him. “Don’t worry too much, Old Zhou. Didn’t you say that young Ji was quite formidable?”

Zhou Ze said nothing, merely shaking his head and leaving, expressionless.

Lu Shang Bai and Huang Long exchanged a glance, both seeing deep helplessness in each other’s eyes.

“Ah…”