"It's good… to still be breathing."
Xiao Yunlong slumped in the back of the military vehicle, voice low, almost hollow. The adrenaline was gone. What remained was exhaustion—deep, bone-soaked, inescapable.
"Yeah…"
Qin Dadi exhaled slowly. The word carried weight.
This operation wasn't a victory. It was survival.
The Golan Heights remained untaken. The clone units—meat thrown into a grinder—were nearly erased. Only scraps remained. Even the elite forces had been carved apart; entire squads vanished without a trace.
They were still here.
That alone felt unnatural.
Silence filled the carriage on the return trip. Even Xiao Yunlong, usually unable to keep his mouth shut, said nothing. The battlefield clung to them—blood, screams, the memory of things that moved too fast to fight.
It didn't let go easily.
Beep. Beep.
Their watches lit up at the same time.
For a brief moment, confusion.
Then—
"Damn… that's a lot."
Xiao Yunlong straightened, fatigue cracking under sudden excitement.
Liu Zhaozhao blinked, then smiled faintly, the light returning to her eyes for the first time since the fight.
"This… we owe to Qin Tian."
Qin Dadi chuckled, shaking his head. "Without him, we'd be lucky to get scraps."
They had only completed one real objective—the Spirit Cat.
That alone shouldn't have meant much.
But Qin Tian had turned the battlefield into a killing ground. Hundreds of Beastmen dropped under his aim. Even if the others hadn't fired the shots, they still shared in the reward.
War didn't care who deserved what.
"Haha—Qin Tian, I could kiss you!"
Xiao Yunlong threw an arm over his shoulder, leaning in without shame.
A hand stopped his face cold.
"Don't."
Flat. Immediate. Disgusted.
"…heartless."
He tried to look wounded, failed, and burst out laughing.
Liu Zhaozhao let out a soft laugh of her own.
Something had changed.
Qin Tian wasn't as distant anymore. There were cracks now—brief flashes of emotion. Irritation. Tension. Even something that looked dangerously close to concern.
Human.
Qin Dadi watched him for a moment, then spoke.
"You'll get your share too. The Military Department doesn't cheat people."
A pause.
"But… your identity isn't registered yet."
Qin Tian said nothing.
"A clone, three days old—you don't exist on paper. No identity, no access. No movement, no shelter, no benefits. Nothing."
He sighed.
"I'll handle it when we get back."
Qin Tian nodded once.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
How many points?
What could they buy?
How far could he go with them?
—
The camp came into view.
Orders followed immediately.
Pack everything. Two hours. Full withdrawal.
They were leaving.
"The Heights are gone, then…"
Qin Dadi's voice carried quiet bitterness.
"So what?" Xiao Yunlong shrugged. "We lived. That's enough."
To him, survival was victory.
Points earned. Life intact.
Nothing else mattered.
Qin Dadi didn't argue—but he didn't agree either.
Because he understood something deeper.
Weapons didn't decide wars here.
People did.
Spiritualists. Superpower users.
The ones who could shatter armies alone.
Against that kind of strength, steel and fire meant nothing.
This was a world where power rewrote reality.
"Enough. Pack up."
—
Inside the tent, Qin Tian moved efficiently.
Huang Xun's belongings—sorted, stripped, taken.
Useful items went into his pack.
Everything else vanished into the Spatial Bag.
He tested it again.
Not just hands.
Anything that touched—could store.
A solution.
On the battlefield, bending down meant hesitation. Hesitation meant death—or suspicion.
But a step… a nudge…
A careless motion.
And everything disappeared.
Clean. Invisible.
Useful.
—
Half an hour later, they moved.
The Legion stretched into the distance, withdrawing like a wounded beast.
Night came fast.
They didn't march.
They stopped.
Camped.
Waited.
The Earth Dragon Team was assigned near the logistics core—a quiet job. Guard duty.
Safe.
"Heh… no patrol tonight…"
Xiao Yunlong collapsed onto the ground.
Sleep took him mid-sentence.
One by one, the others followed.
Even Qin Dadi.
Even Liu Zhaozhao.
The body had limits. Once crossed, it simply shut down.
Soon, the tent filled with the low rhythm of breathing.
Alive.
Still alive.
—
Qin Tian didn't sleep.
He stared upward, unmoving.
Memories bled together.
A life that wasn't his.
A war that now was.
Faces. Blood. Noise.
Silence.
Reality felt thin.
Unreliable.
Like something that could tear at any moment.
—
Outside, night thickened.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Drones hovered above, scanning, watching—infrared sweeping the land in perfect grids.
Nothing escaped.
Or so it seemed.
Soft.
Subtle.
The ground shifted.
Barely.
A bulge.
Then—
A massive serpent's head pushed through the earth, silent, cold, invisible to the machines above.
Its body remained buried.
Waiting.
Beneath it—
Shapes moved.
Low. Patient.
Pairs of green eyes flickered open in the dark.
Watching.
Calculating.
The Shadow Cat Team had arrived.
And this time—
they weren't here to test their prey.