Apocalypse Gachapon

Ye Zhongming chewed on dried meat, quietly waiting for his body to recover fully.

Earlier, when he killed the level nine lifeform, it might have seemed like everything was under his control, but in reality, it was an extremely risky endeavor. Had even one aspect not met his expectations, the battle would have stalled into a deadlock.

Of course, the rewards after victory were substantial.

Materially, Ye Zhongming wasn’t particularly concerned. He wasn’t some inexperienced kid—on the contrary, he was likely one of the few on Earth with a relatively clear understanding of the Cosmic Races.

Not only had he actively sought information from allied forces, but he himself had undergone the trials of the Sky Ladder and had even served as an agent for the Taros Red Dwarves—a race renowned throughout the cosmos for their craftsmanship.

When it came to technology surpassing Earth’s level, even if Ye Zhongming didn’t possess it, he had at least seen it.

Take, for example, that Scorpion Crystal Armor.

Having witnessed the equipment of the Taros Red Dwarves, seeing this Mimicry War Device—likely crafted by the Star Eye Race—didn’t excite him nearly as much as he pretended.

He knew this thing was mediocre at best.

But Ye Zhongming still let the Star Eye clansmen believe he was desperate for it, ecstatic even—all to integrate faster.

Being valuable while knowing his place. These two points were enough to make them treat him with caution.

………………………………………………

Color Man, Masked Man, and Aslan returned to headquarters. With an improved ability technique in hand, they had to report in person, even though the method had already been recorded via transmission.

Inside a conference room, nearly twenty people sat, half of them wearing masks.

Cheng Liuji, despite his status as a Gold Commander, took a lower seat—clearly, the head of the table was reserved for a higher-ranking figure in the Star Eye Race.

Color Man, as the overseer of the garbage training camp, sat at the main table, while the supervising Masked Man and Aslan were relegated to the second row.

Aslan’s bloodline was extraordinary, but that didn’t translate to rank here.

Soon, the light door dimmed, and an elder entered.

If Little Tiger had been here, he would’ve blurted out, “Wow! What an immortal-looking old man!”

This Star Eye clansman looked strikingly similar to an Earthling—except for his four-pupiled eyes, which were slightly eerie.

The elder walked in, followed by another man—a towering figure with a ring of bony plating around his neck, shielding that vital area. The same feature appeared on the backs of his hands, as if covered in bone armor.

As the two entered, everyone stood and greeted them. The elder naturally took the head seat, while the burly man sat opposite Cheng Liuji—indicating a status on par with the Gold Commander.

Among the Star Eye Race, the Bronze, Silver, and Gold Masked Warriors were the backbone. As the leader of the highest-ranking Gold Masks, Cheng Liuji’s position in the clan was evident. These two newcomers—one above him, one equal—were undoubtedly high-ranking leaders.

The elder’s gaze swept the room, softening briefly when it landed on Aslan before turning stern again.

“Where’s Pao Bai?”

This question was directed at Cheng Liuji. Pao Bai, the Silver Commander, wasn’t his subordinate, but both belonged to the combat division.

“Still on the Kill List.”

Cheng Liuji shrugged helplessly.

“That little lunatic.” The elder chuckled. “Tell him to be careful—don’t get himself killed.”

Cheng Liuji smirked. “You tell him. If I say it? He’d just laugh in my face.”

The room erupted in laughter—even the stoic, bone-armored man cracked a smile.

Pao Bai was the Star Eye Race’s most infamous battle maniac, obsessed with combat above all else.

In the Cosmic Races—or at least in Darkstripe City—the most famous figure from the Star Eye Race wasn’t their two leaders, Star Lord and Eye Lord, but this Silver Commander, Pao Bai.

His achievements overshadowed elites from major races, dominating multiple leaderboards.

As for Cheng Liuji’s quip that made everyone laugh? It stemmed from their “rivalry.”

Cheng Liuji hadn’t become Gold Commander by chance—he was one of the clan’s strongest warriors in the past hundred cosmic years, ranking in the top five aside from the two lords.

But Pao Bai? The guy was a madman. When not fighting outsiders, his favorite pastime was challenging Cheng Liuji. Initially, out of concern for the clan’s rising talent, Cheng Liuji humored him—not to crush him, but to mentor him, helping him accumulate experience.

Pao Bai didn’t disappoint, improving rapidly and soon earning the Silver Commander title.

Yet even after becoming one of the Star Eye Race’s three combat leaders, Pao Bai never abandoned his goal of defeating Cheng Liuji. He kept challenging him, and though he still lost every time, the fights grew longer, fiercer, and deadlier.

Eventually, Cheng Liuji decided these sparring sessions had to stop and began refusing. But Pao Bai’s persistence was… legendary.

Whether Cheng Liuji was eating, working, training, or even sleeping, he risked an ambush.

Finally, Eye Lord intervened, forbidding Pao Bai’s childish antics. The rule was simple: no more fights unless Cheng Liuji agreed—or until Pao Bai was confident enough to challenge for the Gold Commander title in an official duel.

Pao Bai wasn’t ungrateful. Though many now believed his strength matched—or even surpassed—Cheng Liuji’s, he never formally requested a promotion duel, content with his Silver Commander position.

But he still seized every chance to fight Cheng Liuji, much to the latter’s exasperation—and the clan’s amusement.

Once the laughter subsided, the elder’s words steered the meeting back on track.

“I’ve reviewed the dialogue and the skill modification. Though untested, I’m certain the method works.”

The room grew solemn, though inwardly, everyone was pleased.

This was a boon for the clan.

“What did you offer that kid?”

The elder suddenly turned to Color Man.

While Cheng Liuji could answer seated, Color Man wasn’t granted that privilege. He stood immediately, detailing the training camp’s protocols and the Mimetic War Device given to Ye Zhongming.

The elder fell silent—then laughed, tossing a small light-projecting pen onto the table.

“You’ve all been fooled. If my deductions are correct, he only revealed half of the technique’s modification.”

The entire room stared at the elder in shock.