One and a half million experience points.
Luo Zhen stared at the floating numerals in his mind's eye, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. The number was staggering. By all logical metrics, a beast like the Ba Serpent—a creature that had only recently ascended to the Demon Emperor Realm—should have yielded a million points at best.
To see the tally reach 1.5 million meant a fifty percent surplus. It was a windfall that demanded an explanation.
His mind raced through the mechanics of the system that governed his cultivation. In the wild, a wandering beast was merely an "Elite Monster." At best, it might be classified as a "Wild Boss." But this Ba Serpent was different. It wasn't a nomad; it was a ruler. It possessed territory. It laid claim to the Ten Thousand Snake Cave.
In the eyes of the system, this shifted the narrative. The Ba Serpent wasn't just prey; it was the "Final Boss" of a localized dungeon instance. That distinction carried weight. In this world, experience wasn't just drawn from the raw power of the kill, but from the narrative significance of the target—their status, their titles, and the dominion they held.
At least, that was the hypothesis Luo Zhen had constructed, layering the gaming logic of his past life over the brutal reality of his current existence. It made the incomprehensible manageable.
Below him, the corpse of the Ba Serpent lay like a fallen mountain range. It was dead, its spirit extinguished, yet Luo Zhen felt no urge to consume it.
The refusal wasn't born of mercy, but of biological arrogance. His current bloodline had already evolved far beyond the primitive nature of a Ba Serpent. To devour it now would be counterproductive—like pouring muddy water into a glass of fine wine. He refused to let his essence become turbid and chaotic.
Evolution was a ladder, and Luo Zhen only climbed up. He would only consume those stronger than himself or those possessing singular, exotic abilities. If he simply ate every snake that crossed his path, his bloodline would degrade into a mongrel mess. He was a Two-Headed Green-Scaled Flood Dragon; he had no intention of devolving.
It was the same principle as human cultivation: you train to become a god, not to revert to a primate.
Besides, the Ba Serpent was a brute instrument. It was massive, and it had a bottomless appetite, but that was where its talents ended. Compare that to the Teng Snake—Luo Zhen's previous evolutionary form—and the difference was night and day. The Teng Snake commanded the elements, breathing fire and spitting water, soaring on wings, and summoning mists to confuse dragons.
The Ba Serpent was just... big. A mountain of meat with a low-grade bloodline.
Luo Zhen's gaze drifted over the carcass. Two thousand meters of scaled flesh, thick as a manor house. While he wouldn't eat it, he wouldn't waste it.
He clenched his right hand. The air shimmered, and the Green Sheen Saber materialized in his grip, humming with lethal intent. He would dismantle the beast here and transport the raw materials back to the sect.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent a wave of emerald blade-energy cascading toward the corpse.
CLANG!
The sound was not of flesh-tearing, but of metal striking an anvil. The shockwave rebounded, sending the green energy spinning away into the sky. The Ba Serpent's hide remained pristine, not a single scale scratched.
Luo Zhen raised an eyebrow. He had underestimated the passive defense of a Demon Emperor. Even in death, the creature was tough. A casual strike wouldn't suffice.
He adjusted his grip, his knuckles whitening against the hilt. He channeled his Qi, activating the saber's innate technique.
Tyrant Emperor Slash.
The atmosphere screamed as a hundred-meter-long phantom blade manifested above him. It was a construct of pure, verdant energy, radiating a pressure that flattened the surrounding grass. With a thought, Luo Zhen brought it down.
BOOM!
The earth shuddered. This time, the defense shattered. The massive serpent was cleaved cleanly in two.
Satisfied, Luo Zhen didn't hesitate. He maintained the rhythm, his arm becoming a blur of motion. The phantom blade rose and fell with mechanical precision. Within minutes, the majestic two-kilometer beast was reduced to a hundred neat, cylindrical segments, each twenty meters long.
Then came the tedious task of logistics. Luo Zhen moved methodically, shoving the massive slabs of meat—along with the precious Demon Infant—into his storage artifacts. He filled his Spatial Ring. Then the Dark-Gold Band. Finally, the Spatial Belt.
It was a tight squeeze. Every cubic inch of magical storage was packed to the bursting point.
"I need an upgrade," Luo Zhen muttered, patting the belt at his waist. "These trinkets are too small for a harvest of this magnitude."
He shook his head, clearing his mind of the mundane, and shot into the sky, a streak of light returning to civilization.
Half a day later, the silhouette of the Blade Transformation Sect appeared on the horizon.
Luo Zhen didn't dawdle. He bypassed his quarters and headed straight for the Deacon Hall. This was the nerve center of the sect's economy, where the administration issued tasks, and disciples claimed their rewards.
The Heavenly King Stronghold mission had originated here. Now, it was time to cash in.
The hall was a hive of activity. The first floor, dedicated to the Outer Sect disciples, was a chaotic crush of ambitious cultivators looking to trade sweat for Contribution Points. Luo Zhen wove through the crowd, approaching the counter where a deacon in black robes was buried in paperwork.
"I'm here to close out the Heavenly King Stronghold mission," Luo Zhen said, his voice cutting through the din.
The black-robed deacon looked up, blinking. "Already?" He scanned Luo Zhen's face, skepticism written in the lines of his forehead. "That mission was posted less than twenty-four hours ago. The Heavenly King Stronghold is a fortress. You're telling me your team finished it?"
"En," Luo Zhen grunted.
"Efficiency is one thing, but this..." The deacon shook his head, marveling. "Just the travel time alone should have eaten up most of the day. For you guys to wipe them out so quickly is unheard of."
Luo Zhen didn't bother arguing. He simply waved his hand over the counter.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Five severed heads rolled onto the polished wood, their eyes frozen in varying states of terror and shock. The stench of dried blood instantly cut through the room's stale air.
The deacon recoiled, then leaned in, eyes widening. "By the heavens... these are really the five bandit leaders." He looked at Luo Zhen with newfound respect. "Alright. Hand over your identity placards. I'll distribute the Contribution Points to your squad."
Luo Zhen slid a single jade placard across the counter.
The deacon paused, holding the lone placard. "Where are the others?"
"Others?"
"Your companions. The rest of your team."
"There are no companions," Luo Zhen said, his tone flat. "I went alone."
The hall seemed to go quiet for a heartbeat. The deacon stared at him, his expression shifting from respect to incredulity, and finally to open mockery.
"Do you take me for a fool?" The deacon's voice rose, attracting glances from nearby disciples. "I can sense your cultivation. You're barely late-stage King Rank. The Stronghold's leader was at the peak of the King Rank! His lieutenants were your equal or nearly so!"
The deacon slammed his hand on the counter. "You expect me to believe you soloed five King Rank experts? In record time? Are you an idiot, or do you think I am?"
The outburst acted as a beacon. The hum of conversation in the hall died down, replaced by the heavy silence of spectators anticipating drama.
"What is this racket?"
A booming voice came from the stairwell. An elderly man with a white beard, radiating the profound aura of the Emperor Rank, descended toward them. This was Elder Wu, a senior figure in the hall.
The black-robed deacon scrambled to his feet, bowing low. "Elder Wu! You're just in time. This kid... there's something wrong with his claim."
"Explain," Elder Wu commanded.
The deacon recounted the story—the impossible speed, the solo claim, the disparity in cultivation levels. As he spoke, Elder Wu's gaze locked onto Luo Zhen, heavy with suspicion. The surrounding disciples began to whisper.
"Solo the Heavenly King Stronghold? Who does he think he is?"
"He looks like a rookie. Probably crazy."
"He's clearly trying to steal the credit. I bet his teammates are dead or injured, and he's here to grab the points before they get back. Scum."
The crowd's verdict was swift and harsh.
Elder Wu listened, his face darkening. He pointed a trembling finger at Luo Zhen. "Guards! Seize him!"
Instantly, seven enforcers from the hall stepped forward, blocking Luo Zhen's escape routes. Their intent was hostile.
Luo Zhen didn't flinch. He looked at the old man calmly. "On what grounds?"
"Fraud!" Elder Wu roared. "And betrayal! An Elite Mission of that caliber requires a squad. You come here alone, claiming sole credit? You've abandoned your brothers to hoard the wealth. The Deacon Hall has zero tolerance for parasites like you!"
Luo Zhen laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound.
"You find this funny?"
"I find your incompetence amusing," Luo Zhen said. "If you stopped shouting for a second, you could check the mission log. Look at the recipient list. If memory serves, my name is the only one there."
The black-robed deacon sneered. "Still lying? Fine. I'll expose you right now."
He grabbed the ledger, flipping pages aggressively. "Let's see... Heavenly King Stronghold... Recipient..."
The deacon's finger stopped. His face drained of color. He swallowed hard, sweat beading on his upper lip.
"Well?" Elder Wu barked.
"Elder..." The deacon's voice trembled. "He... he's right. There's only one name. Luo Zhen."
The silence that followed was absolute. Elder Wu turned back to Luo Zhen, the certainty in his eyes replaced by a bewildered shock.
"You..." Elder Wu stammered. "You are Luo Zhen?"
"I am."
"You truly wiped them out? Alone?"
"Yes."
"But your cultivation..."
"My cultivation is late-stage King Rank," Luo Zhen interrupted. "My combat power, however, is not."
Elder Wu stared at the young man. The logic didn't track, but the paperwork was irrefutable. After a long, tense stare-down, the old man exhaled sharply.
"Fine. I will accept this for now. But mark my words, boy—if I find out you used trickery, I will personally dismantle you."
"Your threats are noted," Luo Zhen said, bored. He turned to the black-robed deacon, who looked like he wanted to dissolve into the floor. "My points. Now."
"Y-yes! Right away!" The deacon fumbled with the transfer array. "Five leaders at 300 points each is 1,500. Plus the bonus for total annihilation... 800 points. That's 2,300 points total."
He handed the placard back with two trembling hands. "It's all there."
Luo Zhen took it, tucking it into his robes. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a chilly whisper. "Next time, try doing your job before you start screaming."
He turned on his heel and walked out.
Behind him, the hall erupted.
"That was Luo Zhen? The Luo Zhen?"
"He's insane! Did you see how he talked to Elder Wu?"
"I heard Hong Yue is hunting him. They say he's going to break Luo Zhen's legs."
"But if Luo Zhen actually soloed the Stronghold... does Hong Yue even stand a chance?"
"It's a bluff. Has to be. Hong Yue is the real deal. Luo Zhen is just a loudmouth with luck."
Elder Wu watched the young man leave, his gears turning. He grabbed a nearby disciple. "This feud with Hong Yue—what is it about?"
"Oh, it started when Luo Zhen beat up Wang Lili. You know, Hong Yue's... favorite."
"I see." Elder Wu stroked his beard. "If Luo Zhen fights Hong Yue, the truth will come out. If he falls easily, then this mission result is a lie." He marched toward the door. "Let's go watch. I need to see this."
Luo Zhen stepped out onto the sunlit plaza, but his path was blocked.
Two figures stood waiting. One was Wang Lili, preening and swaying, radiating a cloying, effeminate energy. The other was a man whose face seemed too small for his head—a fleshy, imposing figure with a perpetual scowl.
"Godfather! That's him!" Wang Lili squealed, pointing a manicured finger at Luo Zhen. "That's the bully!"
The large man stepped forward. The air grew heavy as he released his cultivation pressure, reaching the Peak King Rank. It rolled over the square like a physical weight.
"So, you're Luo Zhen," the man boomed. "I've been waiting for you."
He turned to Wang Lili, his voice softening sickeningly. "Baby Lili, stand back. Watch Godfather vent your anger for you."
"Mhm! Get him, Godfather!" Wang Lili wiggled his hips and trotted to a safe distance.
By now, the commotion had drawn a massive crowd. Disciples flooded the square. Elder Wu and his entourage watched from the periphery. Luo Zhen's friends—Gu Shi, looking terrified; Ma Jinghuan, looking gleeful—were scattered in the mix.
Luo Zhen didn't look at the crowd. He looked at the fat-faced man blocking his way.
"You're Wang Lili's... Godfather?"
"Correct," the man sneered, puffing out his chest. "I am Hong Yue. Etch that name into your skull. Those two syllables will be the nightmare that haunts you for the rest of your miserable life."
Luo Zhen looked from the hulking man to the prancing disciple in the distance. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and then he laughed aloud.
"A nightmare? You give yourself too much credit," Luo Zhen said, his voice carrying across the silent square. "Let's call it what it is. You're just his sugar daddy, aren't you?"