Chapter 5: The True Protagonist (Bonus Chapter for Alliance Leader Lan Ruoruo 1/10)

The air in the blood-soaked mine was eerily still. Twelve gruesome, mangled corpses had just delivered the most terrifying and despairing lesson imaginable to the few survivors. Yet the true horror was still to come.

Clusters of small spiders crept forth, dragging away the bodies. They seemed to coexist peacefully with the monster sealed within the stone. But it was impossible to say for certain whether the birth of these spiders had awakened the fiend, after all, they had shouted and made noise before—Wei Cheng and a few others had even mined ores nearby—yet the stone fiend had not stirred then.

Whatever the truth, no one dared so much as raise their voice now.

Hiding deep within a shaft, Wei Cheng struggled to steady his pounding heart while desperately trying to think. To be honest, when Shen Qianshan was killed, he'd been so frightened he lost control of his bladder and his mind went blank for a good ten seconds. Only luck saved him: the stone fiend did not attack quiet targets, and there were no spiders nearby. Otherwise, grass would already be sprouting from his grave.

Game worlds were one thing; reality was another.

Perhaps people truly were different from each other. Zhang Yong, that kid, reacted the fastest—he clamped a hand over Wu Yin’s mouth before she could scream, pulled her and her grandfather aside, then turned to drag Wei Cheng over as well, snatching up two others who’d been paralyzed by fright.

Now the little beauty, Wu Yin, was trembling in his arms, making no attempt to resist. The young man had promise.

“This can’t go on,” Wei Cheng finally whispered after a long silence, his voice still quivering. He had no wish to be the leader—Shen was barely cold in his grave.

But the old man, Wu Hongwei, who had also advanced to the Innate Realm, merely sat with his eyes closed, paying no mind to his granddaughter cozying up with Zhang Yong.

The other two survivors were a middle-aged bald man, whose strength seemed formidable—he too practiced the Mountain-Moving Technique—but he kept silent, meeting Wei Cheng’s gaze with the kind of knowing, affable smile unique to middle-aged men. The other was an elegant woman in her thirties wearing glasses, who cultivated the Spirit Swallow Technique. She sat with a forbidding air, occasionally rolling her eyes at Zhang Yong in a mix of disdain and embarrassment, though Zhang Yong seemed oblivious.

Zhang Yong himself? Well, why bother—young, thick-skinned, full of energy, the kind who’d dare dance with a ghost in a graveyard at that age. Let him be.

No one responded to Wei Cheng—not even the old man Wu Hongwei cared to act as his foil.

“We have to try,” Wei Cheng murmured to himself. He didn’t want to die and had to save himself. But he knew that even if he finished all his remaining water and rations, he still couldn’t push his Mountain-Moving power to the next level.

So the best choice was to help Zhang Yong, who practiced the Purple Cloud Technique, to break through to the Innate Realm.

Three techniques, three paths—there had to be a reason.

“I have a quarter of my water left. Zhang Yong, do you want to see your Purple Cloud Technique advance to the Innate Realm?”

At last, Wei Cheng’s words had an effect. The old man Wu Hongwei snapped his eyes open, their sharpness like lightning. The bald man, the elegant woman, and even Zhang Yong—who had been getting handsy—stopped what they were doing.

“I do! Wei, you’re my brother from now on! I swear, I’m just a step away from breaking through!” Zhang Yong was beside himself with excitement.

Wei Cheng glanced at him, then slowly took the waterskin from his pack and handed it over. The others stared, but in the next instant, the elegant woman darted forward, snatching the waterskin with lightning speed—her Spirit Swallow Technique made her quick, but not as quick as the bald man, who seized her long legs and slammed her to the ground. A sickening crack—her leg broke.

The bald man snatched the waterskin, tossed it to Zhang Yong, and flashed a guileless, friendly grin.

The elegant woman whimpered in agony, drenched in sweat, but dared not cry out.

Wei Cheng and the old man Wu Hongwei hadn’t moved from the start. The mine shaft was too small—Wei Cheng’s bulk blocked the entrance. Only a fool would try to snatch the water and hope to get away unscathed.

In fact, Wei Cheng had been wary of Wu Hongwei making a move—after all, Wu Yin also practiced the Purple Cloud Technique—but the old man sat immovable, as cunning as a fox.

Ah well.

“I won’t let everyone down,” Zhang Yong said, seizing the waterskin and gulping down a mouthful before sitting cross-legged to cultivate. Soon, purple energy began to swirl around him—of the three techniques, its potential was indeed the greatest.

Wei Cheng even felt a pang of regret: if he had chosen the Purple Cloud Technique, with his ample reserves of fat, perhaps he could have mastered it too.

The mine fell silent again. Zhang Yong’s cultivation was long and arduous—one full cycle of the Purple Cloud power took several hours. Had they spent close to a month cultivating before?

Still, good news: after five big gulps of water, Zhang Yong’s Purple Cloud energy finally peaked. In a flash, he broke through and became an Innate Realm martial artist.

When Zhang Yong opened his eyes again, the darkness of the mine seemed to brighten. The three who had been watching him—Wei Cheng, Wu Hongwei, and the bald man, Xu Fei—were all momentarily dazzled.

In that instant, they understood: none of them could stand against Zhang Yong one-on-one.

“Let’s not waste any time. I think I could kill that spider fiend myself,” Zhang Yong said in a low voice, slipping the waterskin—still with at least five gulps left—into his jacket. Purple energy blazed around him, even his fists radiating three inches of violet light. He was a human tiger, fierce and insatiable.

The old man smacked his lips, wanting to say something, but said nothing in the end. The bald Xu Fei smiled his usual honest smile. The elegant woman, having reset her leg with her own inner strength but fallen from the Innate Realm as a result, hid in a corner, her gaze venomous.

Only Wu Yin beamed with delight—a small happiness at finding a good man.

"Brother Yong, you're amazing!"

“Let’s go, then,” Wei Cheng finally nodded. Zhang Yong wasn’t giving him any more water, and there was nothing he could do about it. Internal strife was pointless for now—they had to kill the spider fiend and seize that stone stele of techniques.

As for their physical condition, it mattered little. Once one reached the Innate Realm, going days without food barely mattered, unless one was injured and forced to burn inner strength to heal, as the elegant woman had.

“Should we call for more people?” the old man suddenly suggested quietly.

“No need. Too many would be trouble. Don’t forget—there’s only one stone stele,” Zhang Yong replied coldly, confidence shining through. All fear stemmed from a lack of strength.

“Wei, you’re the main tank. Uncle Baldy, you’re the off tank. Old man, you’re backup tank. Little sister, just watch from the side. I’ll handle the damage—we’ll clear this in one go!”

After laying out the plan, Zhang Yong suddenly spun around and, with a cyclone kick, broke the elegant woman’s right leg again.

Submit or be destroyed—such is the way of a true protagonist.

I, Zhang Yong, am the real deal—now pay up!