The connection was choppy and the cold robotic voice was interspersed with static, distorting the announcement—but there was no mistaking its words.
The Gate to the Real World? All three of them were stunned. Was it really the one that they were thinking of?
This announcement was different from the past ones. This time, there were no previews and no countdown for teleportation. They were instantly forced into a new level.
They were stuck in this unlimited-flow world for so long, most of their small group had lost hope of returning to reality. When the announcement came through, their initial reaction was disbelief.
The mechanical voice began a countdown. Gradually, the mist surrounding them gradually dispersed, revealing a wide screen. Pale yellow light converged to form a dazzling gate.
Red numbers on top of the gate matched the system’s robotic countdown. Clearly, this was the so-called “Gate to the Real World.”
The players all paused, stunned. They recovered quickly, only sparing each other a brief glance before running towards the gate without hesitation.
There was no other option.
He Ziyue’s wound wasn’t fully healed. It burned fiercely as she ran, forcing her to slow her speed. Hua Jin reached out wordlessly to support her.
Chu Chenli was used to being at the rear, and was the first to hear that sudden and loud noise.
In the rapidly fading mist, faint black shadows began to form.
Fifty. Forty nine.
Through the increasing static, the survivors heard the roars and howls from monsters heading towards the gate.
Chu Chenli gripped the knife in his hand tightly. He Ziyue and Hua Jin braced themselves for battle.
Spiders, wild wolves, fierce tigers, giant eagles, endlessly multiplying toxic plants, sticky writhing tentacles, mutated humans with multiple eyes, mouths and arms all over their bodies, ogres disguised as humans extending long tongues. Their pitch-black, sticky saliva dripped onto the eyeballs rolling on the ground, emitting a sizzling sound, instantly burning large, dark holes…
At the centre of the horde of monsters was a towering beast spewing fire from its mouth.
These were all monsters they had encountered from past instances, from minor minions to final bosses. He Ziyue had nearly died at the hands of an ogre, and had ultimately paid the price, losing half her body to barely get through that instance.
In the past, they had relied solely on luck.
Even after continuously levelling up, it was unclear whether they were a match for these bosses, but now, all the monsters were gathered in one place— And also headed towards the gate!
Paling further, He Ziyue voiced the collective concern of everyone present. “If the other side of the gate is truly the real world, then will these monsters…also follow us back to reality?”
In the game world, there was an allotted time limit. When facing bosses that were impossible to beat, the system wouldn’t require them to defeat the bosses–their objective was simply to survive until the time was up. After entering the next world, the bosses would naturally disappear.
But reality wasn’t a game.
All of them had loved ones in the real world. The trio hoped they would never have to suffer from this calamity.
Hua Jin also felt uneasy. He tried to remain rational, forcing himself to think positively, “Since it’s a game world, those NPCs can’t possibly follow us back to reality, right? They’re just game data, they’re not real. Maybe they’re just the final obstacle, one last test–or something..”
He Ziyue replied without thinking, “You know they’re not completely fake. What if they actually cross over?”
Hua Jin fell silent.
The trio’s conversation didn’t slow their pace, and they reached the gate before the monsters did.
There were less than thirty seconds left.
The nearest group of monsters would arrive well before the time was up.
Chu Chenli had been following them silently. As the one responsible for physical combat in the team throughout the years, he typically didn’t directly engage in the team’s decision-making discussions.
However, in critical moments, he was the most decisive of all.
“You guys go ahead, I’ll cover the rear.” Chu Chenli stopped in his tracks and positioned himself in front of the gate.
“No way!” He Ziyue immediately rejected, “We are not leaving you here by yourself!!”
Hua Jin also frowned, “We’ve come this far, we promised to go back together.”
“Both of your injuries haven’t healed yet, have they? Staying here and fighting would do more harm than good.” Chu Chenli flashed them a lazy smile. “Hey, after you return, give my greetings to Ye Lanzhou, won’t you?”
If he’s still alive, that is. Chu Chenli added silently.
Twenty…Ten…Seven…
The robotic voice buzzed with static, a lake’s formerly calm surface ravaged by the wrath of a storm.
“But-” He Ziyue and Hua Jin began to protest.
“Don’t miss me too much, hey?” Chu Chenli’s smile was teasing as he gave Hua Jin’s back a firm kick. Caught off guard, Hua Jin tumbled into the gate. With a quick turn of his knife’s sheath, he deftly evaded He Ziyue’s outstretched hand—and shoved He Ziyue into the gate as well.
“Ah Li!” He didn’t know which one of them it was, but the cry of anger and fear was distorted by the gate and cut off abruptly.
The two figures vanished into the luminescent glow of the gate.
Chu Chenli breathed a sigh of relief, but his face betrayed a hint of loneliness.
Then, taking a breath, he wiped all emotion from his face. His demeanour frosted over, completely devoid of the affable warmth he displayed when conversing with his teammates. All that remained was a chilling, murderous aura, as sharp as a blade.
Even with 99 worlds and 100 000 people, Chu Chenli’s breathtaking beauty was renowned throughout the infinite flow world.
When only half remained, he had earned the title of God of Slaughter.
When only twenty were left, he was the most dependable comrade.
The other side of the gate held teammates he loved and desperately hoped he’d see again, and the lover he had desperately clung to across countless worlds. He could not afford to let these monsters escape this infinite flow world.
Clang.
Chu Chenli raised his sword, blocking the monsters’ claws as they reached for the gate. Lunging forwards, he sliced cleanly through a tough shell with a twitch of his blade.
A gust of wind howled, ripping the wave of monsters away from the gate, hurling them into the distance.
Only the towering beast remained, batting away the offending wind, incensed. It raised its claw, swatting away the spiders that had landed on it, advancing towards the gate.
A large spider, half the size of a person, fell to the ground. Its brains splattered, blood staining the floor. It didn’t get back up.
Six. Five. Four.
The robotic voice fuzzed, barely audible, a toy radio running out of power.
Was this infinite flow world really collapsing?
Chu Chenli’s mind wandered, mindlessly swinging his blade. In any other situation, he would have dodged, but he couldn’t afford a single misstep in front of this gate. Whatever his blade or the wind couldn’t block, he would shield with his body.
He couldn’t let those monsters touch the gate.
Injuries were inconsequential. All that mattered was the countdown. All that mattered were those last few seconds.
…One.
The robotic countdown abruptly cut off. Chu Chenli’s ears rung with the lingering effects of the static.
The horde of monsters surged forward, desperately extending their claws and tongues, trying to grasp the last vestiges of light from the gate. The largest beast bent, extending its claws—
Claws, tongues, and even the rolling eyeballs—all of it yielded nothing but air. The gate sealed shut, a hint of shadow the only remnant of its existence.
Everything in this world was trapped.
The monsters roared in terror. Darkness crept in, swallowing the mist, threatening to devour this world whole.
Only Chu Chenli was smiling.
That gate was likely the only real gateway to reality.
Ah, he never did get to see Ye Lanzhou again…
Just as Chu Chenli was contemplating whether to lie down and await his fate, a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist.
Chu Chenli tensed, barely stopping himself from launching a reflexive counterattack. It was only when he heard a familiar voice behind him then he relaxed.
“Ah Li.”
Chu Chenli was taken aback, “Xiao Mu?”
“Shh.” The person spoke rapidly into his ear, drowning out the deafening wails of the monsters. “I’ll explain later—I’ve come to get you out.”
Chu Chenli relaxed, allowing Mu Yanshen to pull him downward. He spared the gate a glance, but the last glimmers of light had long disappeared.
“But the gate already…”
“I’ll take you through another path,” Mu Yanshen murmured. He pulled Chu Chenli closer in a pseudo-embrace.
“There might be some aftereffects after we return, but…never mind. Just remember one thing, okay? Take care of yourself. We’ll come find you.”
They fell together, but the ground never met them—they continued to plummet.
Chu Chenli stopped thinking. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.
His last memory was of warm feathers lightly brushing against his ear.
–
Reality. Nanzhou’s 8th base, the top floor of the medical department.
A new intern followed his senior through the various floors of departments and wards. Happy that there was some help in reducing the workload, the doctor was especially eager to show the new recruit the ropes.
“Healing abilities are a scarce resource worldwide, but we can’t do anything about it. Who would have thought there were so few medical students? The nurses have to take on additional roles in logistics. While it’s true that practice makes perfect, and higher-tier awakeners have better healing abilities now, if we were to face another wave of mutants, the medical department won’t be able to accommodate all the casualties…”
As the doctor spoke, he couldn’t help but complain, his words tinged with regret and sorrow, seemingly recalling past events.
As an independent base, Base 8 didn’t receive much external assistance. Medical resources were typically sufficient for daily needs, but in the event of a large-scale mutant invasion, many people would perish because they couldn’t be healed.
The people only had Ye Lanzhou’s formidable strength as the leader of the base to thank for reducing casualties. Capable of withstanding an army by himself, he bore the brunt of any attack.
It was precisely this quality that earned Ye Lanzhou deep admiration throughout the Base 8 . His valiant reputation extended far beyond its borders.
While the doctor continued to grumble about their hopes for a brief respite from the recent mutant incidents, to allow them some breathing space for training new personnel, he led the intern from one end of the corridor to the other.
However, when they reached the staircase, it was evident that there was another ward at the end of the corridor that the doctor showed no intention of taking the intern down.
They had greeted the patients in every other room, but they skipped this one.
Curiosity getting the better of him, the intern couldn’t help but ask, “Is that room occupied?”
The doctor’s expression soured instantly, feelings of disdain, discontent, and aversion thinly veiled with a front of stoicism.
“You don’t need to go there,” the doctor said coldly. “The person inside is just a vegetable.”
