Apocalypse Gachapon

Ye Zhongming found a secluded spot and crafted the flood dragon hides into a set of leather armor, roughly Green-grade in quality. Wearing it gave him a slightly greater sense of security.

Though Green-grade was far inferior to the Purple-grade equipment he’d worn before, it was still better than nothing.

Now armed with a short sword and clad in leather armor—even without his main job—Ye Zhongming felt his confidence returning. He wandered freely through the rainforest, continuing his search for useful items.

Compared to Earth’s tropical rainforests, this place was more fantastical and vibrant—and, of course, far more dangerous. Though he encountered no more level-eight creatures like the flood dragons, he came across plenty of level-six and level-seven beings.

Level six was the lowest-tier mutated lifeform he’d seen here so far.

These posed no threat to him, but they did contribute a pair of shoes and some bone spike projectiles to his inventory.

Pausing at a water source, Ye Zhongming carefully assessed the area for danger before slowly approaching to drink. As he drank, he pondered the nature of this trial.

Suddenly, his expression shifted imperceptibly. He kept his head lowered, but the hand supporting his weight abruptly flicked out, sending several bone spikes embedding into the trunk of a nearby tree.

A black shadow leaped down from above, retaliating with two streaks of cold light aimed at Ye Zhongming.

But the King of Cloud Peak had already repositioned the moment he released the spikes. In an instant, he reached the tree, kicked off its trunk, and swung his sword upward at the shadow.

The shadow split midair—one figure becoming three. One blocked the bone spikes, while another lunged straight for Ye Zhongming’s short sword.

Thud! Thud!

Two shadows shattered, erupting into thick smoke that carried a cloyingly sweet fragrance. Ye Zhongming recoiled as if from a venomous snake.

Aborting his charge, he let himself drop, then pushed off the ground with one hand to propel himself sideways. The two streaks of cold light he’d dodged earlier had somehow reversed course, slicing two gashes across his shoulder.

Simultaneously, a flash of light cut through the smoke—the shadow’s unseen weapon slashing toward Ye Zhongming’s chest!

He raised his short sword to block.

Clang!

The freshly forged weapon snapped in half. The cold light continued unimpeded, leaving a wound on his chest and splitting the Green-tier leather armor open.

Rolling backward, Ye Zhongming hurled more bone spikes—not to kill, but to force the enemy back.

The shadow dodged aside, clearly wary of the projectiles.

The two entered a brief standoff.

Now Ye Zhongming could see his opponent clearly: a being nearly identical to a human, save for one distinct feature—

A pair of wings.

Had they been white, he might’ve mistaken her for an angel—black, perhaps a demon.

But these wings were pale pink.

A birdman?

Narrowing his eyes, Ye Zhongming wondered if she was part of the trial here.

The female birdman studied him with equal scrutiny, her gaze lingering on his shoulder and chest wounds with undisguised disdain.

Ye Zhongming produced two more bone spikes, smiling faintly. Gravity suddenly warped around his opponent, and a tiny planetoid materialized above his head, mirroring his movements.

The birdman clearly hadn’t anticipated this. Her normally agile body grew sluggish under the unexpected weight. Caught off guard, she couldn’t dodge the incoming spikes—

Her wings snapped shut around her body like a cocoon, generating a gust that formed an air barrier, slowing the spikes’ momentum.

Ting! Ting!

The spikes deflected harmlessly, leaving only faint white marks on her wings. But as she unfurled them to counterattack—

Bam!

A streak of light slammed into her, sending her staggering back.

Seizing the opening created by his elemental spirits, Ye Zhongming closed the distance. Without his main combat job, he still had his body and the cumulative enhancements from countless strength and speed potions.

Under the effects of anti-gravity, he unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks.

Ye Zhongming didn’t know how power levels were classified in this Darkstripe City, but one thing was certain: Nine-star evolved were the lowest tier here. This birdman was undoubtedly stronger than him.

Yet whether it was the masked escorts or the multicolored man who’d brought them here, while formidable, none struck him as invincible.

Take this birdman: clearly a speed-based fighter or assassin, with tricks like clones, wings, smoke bombs, poison mist, and that unseen weapon that had wounded him.

But once Ye Zhongming closed the gap?

She stood no chance.

Reality proved this true.

Having learned martial arts from Mo Ye and Xia Lei, combined with his apocalypse-honed combat instincts, Ye Zhongming had developed a close-quarters style uniquely his own. Though the birdman’s wings provided formidable defense, under his relentless assault, she was forced into constant retreat. Were it not for her higher level and raw power, she’d have shared the flood dragons’ fate—beaten to death on the spot.

Then, deliberately, Ye Zhongming’s strikes slowed by a fraction.

Seizing the opening, the birdman broke free, flapping unsteadily into the air.

Her wings weren’t broken, but bone fractures were likely.

With a cold snort, she raised glowing hands, preparing another attack—

Wee-oo! Wee-oo!

Strange whistles cut through the air. Reluctantly, she abandoned her stance and flew off.

Ye Zhongming clutched his abdomen, where intense cramps had begun. His gaze shifted to the water he’d drunk—drugged, undoubtedly.

Yet he felt no fear. His Beautiful Heaven Body granted innate poison resistance, and this toxin clearly wasn’t the instant-death variety. The more potent the poison, the easier to detect. Given time, his body would purge it naturally.

Watching the birdman vanish into the distance, Ye Zhongming smirked.

Lucky she fled. Even poisoned, he’d have killed her.

The King of Cloud Peak’s trump cards ran deeper than this.

……………………

“Why didn’t you let me kill that trash?”

The female birdman landed before the masked man and the multicolored instructor, her tone accusatory.

The masked man remained silent, but the instructor answered flatly:

“The moment you failed to kill him in your first assault, you lost your chance. Had you continued, you’d be dead.”

“Bullshit!” She bristled with rage. “That trash couldn’t kill me! I may not be your equal, but I’m a special training instructor—equal in status to a Bronze-rank!”

The multicolored man shook his head. “This trash is different. Not only does he possess Beautiful Heaven Body, he’s likely inherited exclusive traits from his home planet. Had the fight continued, he’d have unleashed them. Aslan, trust my judgment. And now, you will teach him one of your abilities.”