Apocalypse Gachapon

Ye Zhongming said nothing and directly followed these individuals to their landing point. He felt a force lifting his body, then he ascended into the sky at a moderate speed, leaving this space.

Once outside the confines of the space, Ye Zhongming saw the scenery beyond.

Astonishing.

If he had to describe the sight before him in one sentence, this was a city that existed only in human imagination—no, even beyond imagination.

The first impression was overwhelmingly complex—grandeur, fantasy, novelty, shock, amazement, and more, all at once.

Before Ye Zhongming could examine it closely, the force began pulling him downward. It was then that he realized they were descending into another “reception” space identical to the one before.

Here, they picked up two more beings similar to Ye Zhongming.

In this manner, they visited five identical spaces in total—including the one Ye Zhongming had “awoken” in—and gathered eight individuals before the reception process concluded.

The group flew through the air for some time. During this period, the escorts remained silent, only handing each of them a transparent screen displaying a language called Darkstripes Tongue.

For a lifeform at Ye Zhongming’s evolutionary level, mastering a language was trivial with detailed introductions, precise pronunciation, and grammatical demonstrations. By the time they landed before what appeared to be… a sewer entrance (at least, Ye Zhongming thought it was one), all eight beings could roughly communicate in this language.

“Where is this? What are we supposed to do?”

One of the beings finally lost patience, refusing to enter the entrance.

Ye Zhongming understood the sentiment.

Like himself, these beings had all been level-nine apex existences—if not outright rulers, then at least regional overlords in their own right.

Now, without any explanation, they were being led into what looked like the most inconspicuous, even shabby entrance in this dazzling city—a sewer. Anyone would feel uneasy and guarded.

However, this being, perhaps accustomed to dominance, had forgotten the current circumstances—and where they were.

The lead masked escort said nothing. The group only saw a slight movement beneath its wide robe—and in the next instant, a transparent skeletal hand had already pierced through the questioning being’s chest.

The being stared in disbelief at its perforated body before collapsing backward onto the ground—its material unknown. The skeletal hand dissolved into energy, slowly enveloping the corpse until, moments later, it vanished as if the being had never existed.

The other seven beings felt a chill crawl down their spines.

This meant they, too, could be killed at any moment.

“Enter.”

That was all the masked figure said. The remaining seven, including Ye Zhongming, obediently stepped into the sewer.

Inside, it wasn’t the cramped, dim, damp, or foul-smelling space one might expect. Instead, it was minimalist, clean, and… advanced.

At the very least, Ye Zhongming didn’t recognize the vehicle carrying them forward.

After several minutes of descending, the vehicle stopped. When they stepped out, they were met with a magnificent underground palace.

The architecture was retro, bearing some resemblance to feudal Western European styles from Earth, yet infinitely more sophisticated. Cliffs, plants, and flowing water blended seamlessly with the structure, while ultra-tech devices hovered or moved around it, proving it wasn’t as ancient as it appeared.

The seven beings, including Ye Zhongming, gaped like country bumpkins. All they could do was marvel.

Where they came from, such a structure would take centuries, if not millennia, to replicate.

It wasn’t a lack of imagination—just a technological gap.

The three escorts led the way, crossing a towering stone bridge over a kilometer long before entering the first floor of the colossal, city-sized structure.

“Trash, that’s where you’ll train. Go in yourselves. Hope you live long enough to see me again.”

With that, they turned and left without hesitation.

The group exchanged glances before reluctantly heading toward the designated area.

Throughout the journey, the King of Cloud Peak had been observing his surroundings. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he—and this place—were fundamentally mismatched.

Not because Earthlings were ugly, but in style.

Whether it was the masked escorts, the jaw-dropping architecture, or even the other “newcomers,” there was an air of coldness, silence, and gloom—something Ye Zhongming lacked.

Perhaps that was why the escorts had paid him extra attention, both during retrieval and departure.

Ye Zhongming felt a faint unease.

Passing through a massive metal door, he was startled to see a figure in a black bodysuit waiting for them.

“Trash, you’re slow.”

What surprised Ye Zhongming wasn’t that someone was waiting—but that this being looked almost human, save for its multicolored hair and irises, which struck him as bizarre.

“Follow me.”

After scanning the group, the figure led them into another vehicle, navigating the palace’s first floor before stopping in a grand hall.

Exiting the vehicle, the group’s eyes were drawn to the left—where two enormous screens displayed dense lists of names, alongside an equally massive map marked in multiple colors, its meaning unclear.

“That’s the Kill Ranking and Honor Ranking. The upper half is Darkstripe City’s; the lower half is ours. If you survive long enough, you might make it up there. It’s not just about glory—glory means nothing here. But ranking means real rewards. Only the strong get to live.”

The figure spoke while walking.

“And the map is…?” one being ventured cautiously, still shaken by the escort’s casual murder.

“Battlefield.”

No further explanation came. No one dared press further, but everyone sensed the figure’s aura intensify—an unconscious reaction.

Clearly, that map held stories worth telling.

Stopping before a light screen, the figure turned.

“Inside is the rookie training zone. But remember—no one here will patiently teach you. Even if they do, you’ll need to shed your ‘trash’ status first. So, rookie training is also a battle. Survive, and you’ll learn. Then, you’ll graduate from trash… to rookies.”

“Go in. A word of advice—I know you were kings and overlords on your planets. But here? Drop the attitude. It might help you live longer.”

With a tap on the light screen, it opened—and a sudden suction force yanked all seven inside.

“Good luck, trash.”

The screen closed. The figure shrugged and walked away.