The Origins Dungeon Hall had grown quieter—not because it was empty, but because it was finally under control. The days of shouting matches and panicked shoving at the gates were over. Now, a steady current of cultivators moved with practiced discipline. They arrived, waited their turn, and entered.
One by one. Like a river finding its channel.
As the morning light hit the streets of Pyradine City, the atmosphere inside the hall felt different. Before, people entered driven by a volatile mix of curiosity and raw fear. Now, they stepped through the threshold with a cold, sharp purpose.
They knew what was waiting for them in the dark. More importantly, they finally knew how to win.
Yuan Bi leaned against the counter, his eyes tracking the crowd. He didn't offer advice; he didn't need to. He simply watched the transformation.
"They're adapting faster than I expected," he murmured to himself.
The shift started with a single realization that had rippled through the city. Qing Yue's advice from days ago had changed everything.
"You don't have to leave your training at the door," she had told them. "Use your techniques. Stop fighting like desperate amateurs."
The advice hadn't been a grand proclamation, but it was effective. No one entered the dungeon thinking it was just a place to struggle blindly anymore. They entered knowing it was a battlefield—and on a battlefield, your training is the only thing that keeps you alive.
Inside the damp stone corridors, the results were obvious. A cultivator stood before a lone zombie, his stance low and balanced. He wasn't panting or wild-eyed. His breathing was rhythmic, his energy focused.
When the zombie lunged, the man didn't flinch. He stepped aside with a crisp Split-Step. It was a basic movement, but here, it was surgical. He followed through with a Stone Palm strike, slamming his hand into the creature's jaw with a sickening crack. Before the zombie could even tilt its head back, he drove a blade straight through its skull.
Clean. Professional.
In another hallway, a player moved through the shadows. He didn't rush. He paused at every corner, listening for the shuffle of dead feet. When a zombie appeared, he dropped his center of gravity into a River Flow stance, sliding past the reaching claws.
He struck upward in the same motion. The zombie collapsed without a sound. No panic. No wasted energy.
The cultivators weren't just copying each other anymore; they were bringing their own styles into the game.
Wu Feng moved like a living scalpel. Every step was a calculation. He measured the distance, waited for the perfect opening, and ended the fight with one silent thrust.
"Efficiency is everything," he noted, glancing at his clean blade.
Nearby, Lu Bong stood like an iron pillar against two monsters at once.
"Earth Anchor," he grunted, his feet locking onto the stone floor. He was immovable. He blocked a heavy blow with his forearm, then countered with a punch that shattered bone. "Power gets the job done."
Then there was Min Luan. He was still aggressive, but the reckless edge had been sharpened. He ducked a lunge, rolled through the dust, and came up with a Backslash. The blade severed the zombie's head in one fluid arc.
He grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Okay, now we're talking."
Despite their improvement, the team's personality clashes hadn't changed a bit.
"I don't get it! Why did that thing still manage to grab my sleeve?!" Min Luan complained as they exited the dungeon.
Wu Feng didn't even look at him. "Because you overcommitted. Again."
"I did not! I was being aggressive!"
"You stepped too deep into its reach," Wu Feng countered flatly.
"I slipped on a loose stone!"
"You slipped forward," Wu Feng noted dryly.
"...Shut up, Wu Feng."
Lu Bong crossed his massive arms. "Both of you lack discipline."
Min Luan whirled around. "Oh, rich coming from you! You got hammered into the dirt yesterday!"
"That was a test of my endurance," Lu Bong said, his voice dropping an octave.
"You screamed, Lu Bong! A high-pitched scream!"
"...It was a focused breathing technique."
Bai Fan, who had been watching the data, spoke up calmly. "To be fair, all of you are still incredibly inefficient."
The three of them turned on him instantly. "You died too!"
"Once," Bai Fan replied coolly.
"Twice! We saw you!"
"The first time was a tactical observation."
"You tripped and panicked!"
"...I was adjusting to the terrain."
Yuan Bi watched them from the counter and sighed. "Some things never change."
The Wall: The Titan
While the zombies were becoming easy prey, the Titan remained a nightmare. The four of them stood at the edge of the courtyard, staring at the massive, grey-skinned monster.
"Still the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Min Luan whispered.
Wu Feng ignored him, his eyes locked on the Titan's shoulders. Lu Bong stepped forward, tightening his grip on his weapon. "We go again."
Bai Fan nodded. "Same roles. Don't improvise."
This time, there was no frantic charging. Min Luan moved first, dancing just outside the Titan's reach to keep its attention. When the massive arm swung, he dodged by a hair.
"He's faster than he looks!" Min Luan yelled.
Lu Bong moved in to take the heat. "Earth Anchor!" He caught the next blow, his boots skidding back across the stone, but his stance held. He didn't break.
Wu Feng circled like a wolf, waiting.
From the back, Bai Fan watched the rhythm. "He hesitates for three seconds after a full swing," he called out. "Go now!"
They didn't miss the window. Min Luan harassed the flank, Lu Bong held the front, and Wu Feng struck the back of the Titan's knee. A heavy crack echoed through the yard. The giant buckled.
"Again!" Bai Fan commanded.
They didn't let up. They moved as one unit, overlapping their skills. Wu Feng stepped into the creature's guard—no hesitation this time—and drove his weapon home.
The Titan froze. Its roar died out, and the massive body crashed into the dust.
Silence followed the kill.
"We actually did it," Min Luan said, his voice low with genuine shock.
"Finally," Lu Bong added, letting out a long, heavy breath.
Wu Feng simply nodded. "The plan worked."
Outside, they pulled off their helms. They looked tired, but their eyes held a new kind of confidence.
"The techniques make all the difference," Min Luan admitted, leaning against the wall. "It's a different game when you actually use your head."
"More control," Lu Bong agreed. "No wasted movement."
The other cultivators in the hall stopped to listen. The doubt was gone. If these four could take down a Titan, the "system" wasn't just a game—it was a masterclass in combat.
Behind the counter, a screen only Yuan Bi could see flickered to life.
[Task Progress: 62%]
He tapped his fingers on the wood. They were finally getting it. They weren't just "leveling up"; they were learning to translate their lifelong training into this new world.
"The system doesn't hold their hands," Yuan Bi mused. "It forces them to evolve."
By making them adapt, the dungeon was creating something better than raw power—it was creating precision. And more precision meant fewer mistakes, which meant higher profits for him.
"They think they're just getting better at a game," Yuan Bi smiled faintly. "But they're actually refining the dungeon itself. And in turn, they're increasing my returns."
He watched the four friends bicker one last time as they headed for the exit.
"Good," he whispered.
The more they understood, the faster his goals would be met.
End of chapter