Deep within the forest, where even sunlight struggled to pierce the canopy, a massive stone slab rested like an altar carved by forgotten hands.
Around it—
Corpses.
Dozens of them.
Some lay sprawled with broken necks. Others had clean puncture wounds through their chests. A few were split open so precisely it almost looked surgical.
On top of the stone slab, someone was sleeping.
Both hands folded behind his head.
One leg crossed lazily over the other.
As if he were resting in a garden instead of a graveyard.
He was a boy.
No—calling him merely a boy felt insufficient.
His beauty was almost unreal. His features were soft yet defined, his skin unblemished despite the carnage around him. Slightly long hair framed his face, shifting gently with the breeze.
His name was Xia Niu.
From China.
Beside him, resting against the stone slab, lay a metallic spear.
Unlike the crude wooden weapons scattered across the forest, this one was crafted with precision. The shaft was polished steel. The spearhead narrow and deadly.
It was drenched in blood.
Fresh blood.
He wasn't asleep because he was tired.
He was asleep because nothing around him posed a threat anymore.
---
There were nine weapons hidden within the forest.
Nine treasures.
Nine catalysts for massacre.
And every single one had been claimed.
The sword rested in the hands of the masked man.
The hammer belonged to the mad loli girl whose laughter echoed in nightmares.
The bow was claimed by the blue-haired girl who outran chaos itself.
The dagger gleamed in Princess Zoya's quiet grip.
The spear lay beside Xia Niu's resting form.
The katana hung at the waist of the devil-smiling swordsman.
The scythe was carried by the giant whose strength drowned men without effort.
The axe was gripped firmly by Yang Kai.
But there was one more.
One final weapon.
The staff rod.
In the exact center of the forest stood a clearing unnaturally circular in shape.
In the middle of it—
A staff rod six feet tall was embedded vertically into the earth.
Its surface was dark metal, etched with faint patterns that shimmered under certain angles of light. It radiated a quiet, oppressive presence.
Several corpses lay around it.
But unlike the other weapon sites, there was no battle happening now.
Not anymore.
Earlier, when the staff was first discovered, the area had turned into hell.
People had slaughtered each other in waves.
Blood soaked the soil so deeply that even now the ground carried a dark stain. Bodies piled up as contestants fought desperately for the right to claim it.
Some managed to reach it.
They grabbed the rod.
Pulled with all their strength.
Veins bulging.
Teeth gritted.
Screaming in frustration.
It did not move.
Not even a millimeter.
Stronger individuals tried.
Teams tried together.
They wrapped ropes around it.
They dug around its base.
Nothing.
The staff rod remained embedded as if it were part of the planet itself.
Eventually, something changed.
The fighting stopped.
Not because people lost interest.
But because they realized something.
If no one could pull it out—
Why waste energy killing each other?
Now, the clearing had become a different kind of battlefield.
Contestants stood at the edges, watching.
Waiting.
Not to claim it for themselves.
But to let someone else exhaust their strength trying.
So they could steal it afterward.
One by one, people stepped forward to attempt pulling it free.
One by one, they failed.
Some collapsed from overexertion.
Some were ambushed immediately after stepping away.
But the staff rod never moved.
Not even slightly.
It stood there.
Silent.
Mocking.
Waiting for someone worthy—or foolish—enough to try again.
Meanwhile, on Yang Kai's side.
The forest stretched endlessly ahead.
Yang Kai and Princess Zoya walked side by side, their footsteps steady against fallen leaves.
They had been moving together for quite a while now.
Yet from the moment they met until now, their conversations had only consisted of short tactical exchanges during fights.
Outside of combat—
Silence.
A suffocating, awkward silence.
Yang Kai glanced sideways at her more than once. Each time, her expression remained cold and unreadable. Pink eyes fixed ahead. No emotion. No curiosity.
If he attempted to speak, she either ignored him or gave one-word responses.
It irritated him.
He was not used to being ignored.
Especially not by a girl.
He cleared his throat once, preparing to say something.
Before he could—
Princess Zoya spoke.
Her voice was soft.
Calm.
But the words were merciless.
"Didn't anyone tell you that you look very ugly?"
She didn't even look at him.
Her gaze stayed forward as if she had just commented on the weather.
Yang Kai froze.
His steps halted abruptly.
His face went pale.
Ugly?
The word echoed inside his skull.
That was not something he had ever heard before.
In his previous life, he had been breathtakingly handsome. Immortal fairies had competed just to catch a glimpse of him. His reflection alone had been enough to make hearts tremble.
But since his soul transfer into this body—
He had never properly looked at himself.
Not once.
Even when washing his hands at the pond, he had been too focused on blood and dirt to glance at the water's reflection.
He didn't know.
Princess Zoya walked a few more steps before noticing he was no longer beside her.
She stopped.
Turned.
"What happened?"
Her tone was neutral.
Yang Kai's lips trembled.
He looked at her as if standing before a judge delivering a death sentence.
"Ca–can you tell me… how I look?"
His voice cracked.
There was genuine panic in his eyes.
Zoya didn't hesitate.
She studied him briefly.
Then spoke with clinical precision.
"Your hair reaches your shoulders. It's curly and messy like you haven't bathed for years. Your eyes look dull, as if you cry daily and haven't slept for days. Your face structure is good. But because of your shit hairstyle, it's fucking ugly."
Each word struck him like an arrow through the heart.
Yang Kai staggered backward.
Then slowly crouched near a tree.
He drew circles on the dirt with his finger, shoulders slumping in despair.
"The fuck… in the past, immortal fairies died just to see me…" he muttered under his breath, voice trembling so she couldn't fully hear him. "And now I'm in this fucking ugly body. What if I'm actually very ugly…"
His entire worldview had cracked.
Battles. Death. Survival.
None of it had shaken him like this.
Princess Zoya stood a few steps away, watching him spiral into existential despair.
Her expression did not change.
Not even slightly.
The forest remained quiet around them.
And for the first time since entering this deadly test—
Yang Kai looked genuinely defeated.
Meanwhile, At the very center of the forest, the clearing around the staff rod remained tense.
The six-foot metal rod stood embedded in the earth like an unmovable pillar of judgment. Its dark surface reflected faint streaks of light through the canopy above.
One by one, contestants stepped forward.
They wrapped both hands around it.
Pulled.
Strained.
Veins bulged. Teeth clenched. Some screamed in frustration.
It did not move.
Not even a tremor.
Around the clearing, dozens of people stood watching.
Waiting.
Calculating.
More figures emerged from different directions every few minutes. The rumor had spread fast—a weapon that no one could claim.
Among those entering the clearing were three familiar figures.
The masked man.
Jhon.
Horikita.
Earlier, after slaughtering a group elsewhere in the forest, the masked man had extracted information about this weapon. A staff rod found but not taken.
So they came.
Not just them.
Contestants continued to gather from all directions. The air felt heavy with restrained violence.
Suddenly, a man standing near the edge of the clearing raised his voice with a forced smile.
"Whoever just arrived, listen carefully. Don't fight. If you do, you're dead. Combat is prohibited until someone pulls the staff out of the ground."
He wasn't joking.
The crowd's expressions made that clear.
There was a silent agreement among everyone present.
Whoever disrupted the temporary truce would be eliminated instantly.
Behind a thick tree at the edge of the clearing, the blue-haired girl with the bow crouched low, hidden by leaves.
She heard the announcement.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the bowstring.
Fine, she thought. I'll wait.
In the open clearing, Jhon's eyes locked onto the staff rod.
He had no weapon.
And he wanted one.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward, preparing to approach the rod.
Before he could take more than two steps—
A hand grabbed his wrist.
He was yanked backward.
Jhon stumbled slightly.
Horikita's eyes widened.
The masked man leaned closer, his voice low enough that only Jhon could hear.
"Even if you can pull it out," he whispered, "don't do it for now."
Jhon blinked.
Confusion flashed across his face.
But the masked man's tone carried weight.
After a brief pause, the masked man released him.
Jhon's expression shifted.
He smiled casually and raised a thumbs up.
"I'll do as you said."
Then he turned and walked toward the staff rod as if nothing had happened.
Horikita watched him go.
Then she turned to the masked man, suspicion clear in her eyes.
"What did you tell him?"
The masked man's gaze remained fixed on Jhon's back as he approached the center.
"If you're going to try pulling it out," he replied calmly, "then I'll tell you."
Horikita crossed her arms.
"Nah. This isn't the weapon I'm used to."
Her voice was steady.
The masked man said nothing more.
In the center of the clearing, Jhon stepped up to the staff rod.
Dozens of eyes locked onto him instantly.
The forest grew unnaturally quiet.
Somewhere behind the trees, the blue-haired girl adjusted her position.
Around the perimeter, several contestants subtly shifted their stances, preparing to move the instant the rod budged.
The staff stood silent.
Waiting.
And tension stretched thin enough to snap.