Apocalypse Gachapon

From the moment Tong Lu was killed, Vice Chairman Yang began his rapid retreat. Just moments ago, he had held onto a sliver of hope—that in the face of death, Tong Lu might deliver some kind of surprise. But reality proved otherwise. There was no surprise, only a deepening fear of the Cloud Peak King’s overwhelming strength.

Too strong!

Vice Chairman Yang wasn’t unfamiliar with top-tier fighters in action. He had witnessed the likes of Wen Yan, the Grand Chairman, and the God Hall’s director going all out in battles against level-nine lifeforms. He knew the gap between himself and them was vast.

But none of them had ever given him the same feeling as Ye Zhongming.

Yes, Ye Zhongming seemed injured, even somewhat disheveled from the combined efforts of him and Tong Lu. However, Vice Chairman Yang had a mental ledger—one that tallied all the known abilities of the Cloud Peak King.

Bloodline? Unused.

Nature’s Staff? Unused.

Soul Artifact? Unused.

Elemental Spirits? Unused.

Crystal Energy Gun? Unused.

Crystal Weapons? Unused…

There were too many things the Cloud Peak King hadn’t even deployed yet, let alone the fact that he undoubtedly had more than one trump card up his sleeve.

So what if he was injured? The sheer number of potions he carried would likely make even large factions despair. He could recover in moments.

In other words, the current Ye Zhongming was still the Cloud Peak King at his peak. Vice Chairman Yang wasn’t about to throw his life away.

Ye Zhongming remained where he was, downing two potions—one for healing, one for detoxification. Feeling slightly better, he swiftly looted anything of value from Tong Lu’s corpse, along with the Nether Tiger’s magic crystal and materials.

He glanced in the direction Vice Chairman Yang had fled, but chose not to pursue. Instead, he resumed his sprint toward the plains.

Though he had killed someone who was likely an important figure in the God Hall, the sense of danger in Ye Zhongming’s mind hadn’t lessened—if anything, it had grown heavier.

He wasn’t afraid of dying. At worst, he could simply release the horde of monsters he carried. But if the terrain was unfavorable, their numerical advantage would be nullified, and their simplistic attack patterns would make them little more than walking magic crystals for the God Hall, Zero Merchants, and Pin Palace to harvest.

Millions of magic crystals—perhaps even more. In an instant, Cloud Peak’s slight lead could be overtaken or even surpassed.

That was something he absolutely could not allow.

This was supposed to be a move to frustrate his enemies. It would be beyond humiliating if it accidentally turned into handing them resources on a silver platter.

But Ye Zhongming had barely run another hundred meters when a rush of wind roared above him.

He looked up.

High in the sky, a massive shadow was descending toward him.

With his sharp vision, he recognized it—a Thunderbelly Roc.

This was a terrifying mutated flying lifeform, especially for ground-based targets.

By the fifth year of the apocalypse, many creatures had completely diverged from their original Earthly forms. The Thunderbelly Roc was no exception—its differences weren’t just in appearance but in behavior, abilities, and every other aspect.

Thunderbelly Rocs generally had low evolutionary levels. As aerial creatures, their combat prowess in the skies was mediocre, and their massive size, coupled with their vividly colored plumage, made them easy targets for other flying predators. As a result, their numbers in the apocalypse were few.

But once a Thunderbelly Roc surpassed level five, its fortunes changed.

At level five, this species inevitably awakened an innate ability—Summoning!

At regular intervals, it could use this skill to call upon flying lifeforms within a certain range, binding them as its companion creatures.

The strength of the summoned creatures and the summoning range depended on the Thunderbelly Roc’s mental energy, as did the cooldown period.

With companion creatures, their safety was greatly assured. The longer they lived, the faster their evolution progressed.

Thus, Thunderbelly Rocs were either very weak… or very strong.

The one above Ye Zhongming was level seven—not a top-tier lifeform, but having ascended from level six, its summoning capacity was already considerable.

Sure enough, numerous flying creatures of varying sizes and evolutionary levels swarmed around its enormous body. A few even matched the Thunderbelly Roc’s own rank.

“Thunderbelly” wasn’t just for show.

The most striking feature of this creature was the dazzling plumage covering its underbelly—each feather crackled with powerful electric energy. More terrifyingly, these feathers could detach and strike targets, their speed adjustable. Even after separation, the residual life energy allowed the Roc to slightly alter its trajectory mid-flight.

They were essentially crude, semi-guided missiles.

Whose battle beast was this?

This wasn’t an artificially created lifeform—it existed naturally. The only explanation for its appearance here was that someone had tamed it as their own.

Ye Zhongming immediately pushed his speed to the limit.

But even though Thunderbelly Rocs were weak at lower levels, their flight speed matched that of most aerial lifeforms. No matter how agile Ye Zhongming was—even as one of the most nimble evolved—he couldn’t outpace it in the air.

The Roc and its entourage shadowed him relentlessly.

When Ye Zhongming crested another hill, he skidded to a halt.

In the distance, the sky was filled with something he did not want to see.

Hundreds of aircrafts.

Their designs varied—some were products of Wheel technology, others bore the hallmarks of extraterrestrial civilizations. Using their speed advantage, they had caught up to him.

The moment they spotted the Cloud Peak King, they opened fire.

Bolts, arrows, lasers, beams, artillery shells, bullets…

A torrent of attacks rained down on the hill where Ye Zhongming stood. Simultaneously, the Thunderbelly Roc high above unleashed its own assault—electrified feathers streaked toward him like living missiles.

Ye Zhongming dodged a few strikes but soon activated Nature Staff, erecting a protective barrier.

These attacks varied in strength. Most wouldn’t cause serious harm unless they struck a vital spot.

He knew exactly why they had appeared—to stall him.

But there was no avoiding it. While not lethal, the sheer volume and density of the attacks would drain his stamina, degrade his equipment, and slow his advance.

If running or staying both led to the same outcome, he might as well stand his ground and weather this aerial bombardment without compromising his condition.

Ye Zhongming was certain these aircraft had been deployed in haste. Their ammunition wouldn’t last long.

As for the Thunderbelly Roc’s feathers? They, too, were finite.

All he had to do was endure.

Then, he could leave at his leisure.