"Qin Tian! Qin Tian!"
The voice cut through the haze like a blade.
His vision swam—blurred shadows, flickering light—then slowly sharpened into clarity.
"I'm fine."
He raised a hand weakly. Something warm slid over his lips. When he wiped it away, his fingers came back red.
Blood.
"You've got a nosebleed."
Before he could react, Xiao Yunlong had already torn open a strip of gauze, rolled it roughly, and shoved it straight into Qin Tian's nostril with zero restraint.
Pain spiked.
Qin Tian's head tilted back, veins pulsing along his forehead. His fingers curled into tight fists as he stared at Xiao Yunlong, voice low and flat.
"…Let go."
Xiao Yunlong froze, then immediately withdrew his hand, scratching his head awkwardly.
Liu Zhaozhao let out a soft laugh she couldn't suppress.
Even Qin Dadi looked half exasperated, half amused.
"Sorry… I got nervous," Xiao Yunlong muttered, then his expression lit up again. "But seriously—Qin Tian, what was that just now? You moved like a ghost. Even that Spirit Cat couldn't touch you."
"Mm."
Qin Tian pulled the gauze free and tossed it aside. The bleeding had already stopped—his body recovering faster than it should.
"No need for that."
Xiao Yunlong blinked. "That was a Tier Two Spirit Cat. Even I couldn't track it. How did you—"
"Just dodged."
Casual. Dismissive.
Qin Tian crouched, picking up a fallen rifle. Beside him lay the Spirit Cat's corpse, its lifeless eyes still frozen in predatory intent.
As his hand brushed over it, a faint green glow slipped from the body and sank into him—silent, unseen.
Nothing new.
No reward worth noting.
He stood, tilting his head just enough for a stray bullet to scream past his ear.
Still too exposed.
He needed a helmet.
On a battlefield like this, instinct wasn't enough. Even the fastest reflexes failed eventually. Protection mattered—especially when death came from angles you couldn't predict.
And helmets weren't just armor.
They were eyes.
Sensors. Analysis. Communication. Targeting.
Even Spiritualists relied on them.
"…Just dodged," Xiao Yunlong repeated under his breath, completely unconvinced—but he knew better than to push.
"Enough talking," Qin Dadi cut in. "Patch yourself up."
He pressed a hemostatic patch onto Xiao Yunlong's wound and followed it with an injection.
Adrenaline.
Color returned to Xiao Yunlong's face almost instantly. He flexed his legs, strength flooding back.
"Better," he said with a grin.
Then—
Beep. Beep.
Qin Dadi glanced at his watch.
Another mission.
"Move. Rescue operation."
They didn't hesitate.
"Who are we saving?" Xiao Yunlong asked as they ran.
"The Starry Squad," Qin Dadi replied. A pause. "Only Li Lai is left."
Silence fell again.
They all knew that name.
The Starry Squad wasn't just another unit—they were neighbors. Friends. The kind you joked with before battle, the kind you promised drinks with after victory.
Promises that meant nothing now.
"Faster," Xiao Yunlong said, suddenly accelerating ahead.
But they were already too late.
Li Lai lay motionless where he had fallen.
Arrows pinned his back like a grotesque display. His body was twisted, lifeless, abandoned by the war that had consumed him.
"...Li Lai."
Qin Dadi lowered his gaze.
War didn't hesitate. It didn't mourn.
It erased.
Xiao Yunlong and Liu Zhaozhao stood frozen, eyes reddening. They weren't used to this—not yet. First Huang Xun. Now this.
The lesson was being carved into them, one corpse at a time.
Qin Tian stepped forward without a word.
He crouched beside the body, removed Li Lai's tactical helmet, and placed it onto his own head.
No one stopped him.
It was understood.
The living needed what the dead no longer could.
But unseen—
A faint blue light rose from Li Lai's corpse and slipped into Qin Tian's body.
[Burning Embers — Critical Strike]
Burn everything.
Trade limits for power.
One strike—
And fate decides how hard it lands.
Qin Tian's pupils constricted.
Then—heat.
Not physical, but something deeper. A surge of raw possibility ignited within him.
This… was different.
Perfect.
For a sniper, this wasn't just an ability—it was execution.
At minimum, his shots would hit harder. At maximum…
Even something beyond his level could fall.
A single bullet.
A single moment.
Deciding life or death.
He glanced at Li Lai again, expression unreadable.
Wasted.
A power like this, tied to a blade… limited by flesh and stamina. Five uses, maybe less, before exhaustion dragged you down.
Wrong path.
If Li Lai had used a gun—
Things might have ended differently.
Qin Tian stood.
Qin Dadi was already reporting in, awaiting further orders.
Around them, the battlefield still roared.
Qin Tian raised his rifle.
Shot after shot rang out.
Each bullet precise.
Each kill feeding him.
Evolution Points accumulated quietly, like a growing shadow behind his eyes.
Then—
Everything changed.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
From the heights, streaks of red fire tore into the sky, arcing downward like a falling storm.
A meteor shower.
Target: the rear command.
The defense system reacted instantly—missiles launched, intercepting mid-air. Above the command, a massive blue energy barrier unfolded, sealing the sky like a dome.
"Flame Crystal," the adjutant reported grimly. "They've secured the mine."
"I see it," the commander said.
A pause.
Then—
"Prepare to retreat."
There was no point continuing.
The objective was lost.
More fighting would only mean more bodies.
…
"Retreat order confirmed."
Qin Dadi's voice carried a rare note of relief.
"We're pulling out."
Finally.
"Move!"
They withdrew fast, following the designated route. Retreat wasn't escape—it was survival under pressure. One mistake, and order turned into slaughter.
But this time—
They made it.
Under the cover of artillery, aircraft, and elite forces, the line pulled back intact.
…
On the Golan Heights—
A towering figure in black armor stood atop the ridge. A tiger-headed man, eyes fixed on the retreating human forces.
A slow, cold smile spread across his face.
"They run quickly."
His voice was low. Amused.
"But not far enough."
Behind him, dozens of shadowy feline warriors grinned, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The hunt—
Wasn't over yet.