Xiao Ke and his crew, Duan Canglong and Luo Hou, were picking through the aftermath on the battlefield. They'd mowed down a ton of zombies, but most were just low-level grunts. The only real prize was a Level 6 Frieza-class, a monster of a zombie.
But the Frieza's brain core—the proof of the kill—wasn't theirs to claim. Old Li had taken it down single-handedly, and Xiao Ke made sure to hand the prize back to him.
Brain cores were everything. They were the currency of military merit, and for this particular campaign to crush the southern zombie swarm, the payout was doubled. Best of all, there were no strings attached. Anyone, even the silver-spoon kids from the aristocratic families, could cash in cores at the pop-up exchange tent outside Vermilion Bird City. A Level 6 kill, with the double-merit bonus, meant a serious reward.
But to their shock, Old Li just waved it off. "What am I gonna do with this?" he scoffed. "You guys keep it."
In the end, from Jiang Ning's whole crew, only Jiang Ning himself pocketed the core from a lowly Level 1 walker he'd killed personally. They didn't want anything else.
So, both groups left on a high note, their mission a success. Xiao Ke's team was now sitting on a top-tier Frieza core and a couple hundred low-level ones. For grunts on the front line, a haul like that wasn't just good; it was legendary.
As they got close to camp, Jiang Ning pulled up to say his goodbyes. He'd gotten what he came for—a personal zombie kill—and his high-status life didn't allow for slumming it on the front lines for long. "Look me up if you ever make it to Qilin City, Xiao Ke," he said. "We'll see each other again."
Xiao Ke just gave a dry smile. "Qilin City is the Imperial Capital. A regular soldier like me? I might never get the chance."
"Hey, don't be so negative," Jiang Ning said with an easy grin. "You never know when your luck's about to turn."
"You've got a point," Xiao Ke laughed. "Take care, Brother Jiang."
"You too. Later!"
And with that, they split off, each heading back to their own camp.
When Xiao Ke's truck rolled back into their section, it was the middle of the night, but the place was buzzing. Apparently, Qiao Mingxuan and his top guys had returned ten minutes earlier, bragging about their own impressive haul: a few dozen low-level brain cores.
Since both the White Shark and Tiger Whale Battalions were under Commander Qin Bing's authority for this op, they were camped together—White Sharks on the left, Tiger Whales on the right. Qiao's crew was making such a racket showing off their loot that they'd woken up the Tiger Whale soldiers.
A dozen guys from the Tiger Whale guard shift were still grumbling with envy over Qiao's score when Xiao Ke pulled in.
And when Duan Canglong—who couldn't keep a secret to save his life—spilled the beans about their night's work, the place exploded.
"Holy hell," they gasped, "the three of you took down a Level 6 Frieza and hundreds of others?"
Noise was strictly forbidden in the camp at night. The men were stretched thin, their nerves frayed. Any sudden disturbance could trigger a wave of panic—a "camp roar"—with disastrous consequences. The commotion from both battalions was more than enough to bring Commander Qin Bing out of her tent.
Her face was like ice as she summoned Xiao Ke and Qiao Mingxuan. "What," she demanded, her voice dangerously quiet, "is all this noise about?"
Qiao Mingxuan stepped forward, puffing out his chest. "Ma'am, I took a few of my men on patrol tonight. We ran into several zombies, which I dispatched personally, and brought back several dozen brain cores. The men were... impressed." It was impossible to miss the smug satisfaction in his voice. A few dozen kills on a routine patrol? If he kept this up, he was a shoo-in for the Glory Military Academy. And after that, the sky was the limit.
Qin Bing's gaze shifted to Xiao Ke. "And your section?"
"We just got back from patrol, Ma'am," Xiao Ke said evenly. "We disturbed the others. It's my fault. I'll take the blame."
Duan Canglong and Luo Hou, standing beside him, exchanged a frantic look. They couldn't believe it. Qiao was preening like a peacock, and their own Centurion wasn't going to say a word about the mountain of merit they'd just earned.
Duan Canglong couldn't take it. He stepped forward, his voice tight. "Chiliarch, ma'am, we also encountered zombies on our patrol. Our haul was... significant. The men were just shocked by our success, that's all."
Qiao, still clueless about Xiao Ke's night, let out a condescending snort. "Significant? You've got some nerve. How many did you kill that you're so proud of yourselves? Don't make promises your rifle can't cash."
Ever since the bar fight, every soldier in the Tiger Whale Battalion hated Qiao Mingxuan's guts. Luo Hou snapped. "Oh, it wasn't that many," he said, his voice dripping with false modesty. "Just one Frieza-class and... what was it? 247 low-level ones. Nothing compared to our battalion's victory at Pocket Mouth Gorge, of course, but I'd say 'significant' fits."
The silence that followed was deafening.
One Frieza. 247 grunts.
Qiao Mingxuan and his men froze. Even Qin Bing looked stunned.
"That's impossible!" Qiao finally sputtered.
Qin Bing's eyes narrowed on Xiao Ke. "Is this true? Lying about military merit is a capital offense."
Xiao Ke glanced at Qiao's face—a twisted mask of disbelief and raw jealousy. A quiet, satisfying warmth spread through his chest. He kept his voice flat. "It's true, ma'am. You can count the cores yourself."
He nodded to Duan Canglong, who brought the heavy sack forward and dumped its contents on the ground. A pile of freshly harvested zombie brain cores tumbled out, still slick. Even without a professional inspector, it was obvious they were fresh kills. There was no faking it.
"The cores are real," Qin Bing breathed, her eyes wide. "You can take down a Level 6 Frieza now?"
"We had help," Xiao Ke admitted, seeing no reason to lie. "Young Master Jiang and his men were with us. His subordinate made the kill, technically. But they didn't want the core, so it fell to us."
Qin Bing nodded, processing it. "I see. Well, you fought as a team, and they forfeited their claim. The merit is yours. Now, get back to your bunks. And keep your men quiet."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"As you command!"
As they were dismissed, Xiao Ke and Qiao Mingxuan locked eyes. In Qiao's gaze, Xiao Ke saw more than just envy. It was something colder, something sharper. It was the naked, unambiguous look of a man who had just decided to kill him.
And in that instant, Xiao Ke understood. Qiao was terrified. Terrified that Xiao Ke might actually make it into the Glory Military Academy, that he might rise through the ranks and become a threat he couldn't control.
Qiao Mingxuan had decided he had to be eliminated. Soon.
The next day, Qin Bing pushed her battalions forward, mopping up small pockets of zombies. It was slim pickings—a few dozen kills split between hundreds of soldiers. Even with the double-merit bonus, it was barely worth the ammo.
The deeper they pushed, the more crowded it got. The plains were crawling with the private armies of noble families, grizzled bounty hunters, and imperial units streaming in from every stronghold in the region.
Soon enough, a messenger from the Black Shark Legion found them. He was a Chiliarch, an envoy from the big boss himself, Legion Lord Bai Longyin, the man in charge of the whole operation. He didn't waste time on pleasantries. He registered Qin Bing's unit, assessed their strength, and gave them their marching orders. They were to become one small part of a massive dragnet, a web of fighting units closing in on the main zombie horde at the Yinma Plains.
The plains were swarming with undead, but the forces marshaled against them were staggering. Clan after clan had answered the Imperial call, eager to prove their loyalty and earn their share of the glory.
Most of these private armies were from the lower-tier gentry. The upper-crust families and the true great houses were conspicuously absent. The reason was simple: for the lower gentry, this war was a golden ticket. The real prize wasn't just merit; it was a spot at the Glory Military Academy.
The Glory Academy was the Emperor's personal project, a place to forge the next generation of Imperial leaders. At every graduation, the Emperor himself would hand-pick the top three students. The number one graduate earned the title of Tianzi Mensheng—the Emperor's Own Disciple. For a minor house, getting a son into that position was the ultimate shortcut to power and prestige.
But the great houses and the upper gentry couldn't care less. The Emperor's power was fading. The Empire was really run by the Grand Secretariat, a council of old men from their own powerful families. They made the decisions, they wrote the laws, and the new, young Emperor just signed on the dotted line. Why would they send their sons to pledge loyalty to a figurehead?
For the next few days, it was a grind. Xiao Ke followed Qin Bing's orders, fighting alongside his men by day and pushing himself through the brutal Tiger's Might training regimen by night. He kept up his pace, forging a new piece of his spine with Origin Power every single day.
He'd now reinforced twelve lumbar vertebrae, his sacrum, and his tailbone. The power coiling inside him was immense. His punches now landed with 1,500 pounds of force, far beyond any normal human limit. He could kill a bull with one hit.
With every bone he strengthened, a quiet confidence grew. He still wasn't on the level of Qiao Mingxuan, a Level 5 War General who wielded 2,000 units of Origin Power, but the gap was closing. He finally felt like he had a fighting chance.
The dragnet tightened. Thousands of units closed in, trapping the zombie horde on the plains like fish in a barrel. Finally, the main armies—a hundred thousand soldiers from the Black Shark and Phoenix Legions—arrived and slammed into the horde head-on.
The battle raged for three days. When the dust settled, the main zombie force was annihilated. The only ones left were the stragglers, scattering in every direction like frightened birds.
Qin Bing's orders came down the line: break into three-man teams. Hunt down the runners. Whatever you kill is yours to claim.
But Xiao Ke was a different animal now. Even a Level 4 War General would be no match for him. He didn't need a team. He could hunt more efficiently alone. Besides, he hated fighting over kills. He went where the others wouldn't, where the pickings were slim but the competition was zero.
He had just dropped an Assaulter-class zombie and was kneeling to carve out the brain core when he heard it.
A faint click.
The unmistakable sound of a rifle's safety being switched off.
Adrenaline dumped into his system. He didn't think; he reacted, throwing himself into a sideways roll.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
Bullets tore through the space where his head had been a second before, kicking up sprays of dirt. Xiao Ke was already scrambling behind a large boulder, his heart hammering with a mix of shock and rage. He racked the slide on his own rifle, ready to return the favor. He'd heard the stories—soldiers ambushing their own comrades for their loot. He couldn't believe it was happening to him.
He popped out from behind the rock, his sights already locked on the attacker. He squeezed off a three-round burst.
But his target moved with an unnatural, fluid speed, swaying just enough to let the bullets zip harmlessly past. As the figure straightened, Xiao Ke's blood ran cold.
It was Qiao Mingxuan.
A smug smile played on Qiao's lips as he dodged the shots. "Good reflexes. Good aim."
"Firing on a comrade is a death sentence, Qiao," Xiao Ke snarled. "You've got guts, I'll give you that."
Qiao tossed his rifle aside and drew his long combat knife, raising an eyebrow. "Then we'll use these. Imperial law forbids shooting a comrade. But a duel... a duel is perfectly legal. And I believe we have one to finish."
The bastard was clever. He had stalked Xiao Ke, waiting for the perfect moment. If the ambush had worked, he would've buried the body, and no one would have been the wiser. But this worked too. A death in a duel was clean. No questions asked.
The war was basically over. Qiao wasn't taking any chances. He couldn't risk Xiao Ke making it to the Academy, gaining power, and coming back for revenge. He had to end it. Here. Now.
Xiao Ke dropped his rifle. His hand fell to the hilt of the "Fierce General" blade at his hip.
"You're a few days earlier than I planned," he said, his voice dropping to a low, cold whisper. "But it doesn't matter. With the power I have now... It's more than enough to kill you."