"..."
Feng Zhiyu fell silent.
He leaned back in his chair, his long fingers unconsciously tracing the patterns on the armrest. A deep sense of helplessness flashed in his eyes.
"What am I to do..."
He muttered to himself, "Am I really going to have to surrender the number one spot before I graduate? I can’t accept this."
None of the Ninth-level Martial Artists present could answer his question.
They all knew that this year’s Warband Ranking Tournament might be the toughest battle the Fearless Warband had faced in thousands of years.
The low point in the Fearless Warband’s resource supply was about to pass.
Word had already come from the legendary upperclassmen fighting on the Battlefield of Ten Thousand Races. At most, it would take another century to re-establish a stable resource channel.
If they could defend their number one title during this most difficult time, the name "Fearless" would shine brighter than any promotion or special treatment.
Then, the most talented prodigies from across the cosmos would still flock to them for that glory.
The Warband could save a fortune on recruitment expenses and use all the massive, restored resources to hone the skills of these top-tier freshmen, creating a perfect, virtuous cycle.
But if they were to lose this battle and the Iron Blood Warband seized the number one throne...
Then next year, not only would they lose a large number of high-quality students, but they would also have to spend several times their usual cost just to compete for talent against the newly prestigious Iron Blood Warband.
It wasn’t that they were heartbroken about the resources, but that they were heartbroken to see them spent on marketing instead of on cultivating true geniuses.
---
Unlike the atmosphere in the Fearless Warband’s high council chamber, which was so heavy you could almost wring water from it, Qin Feng’s private dormitory was utterly silent.
The light was adjusted to its softest setting, and the air was filled with the faint smell of metal and circulating energy.
Qin Feng sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, his eyes shut tight. But his consciousness wasn’t immersed in cultivation. Instead, with the help of his high-speed Subspace Intelligent Assistant, Hammer, he was poring over a sea of information.
In his mind’s eye, light screens made of data streams flashed by at high speed. They all shared a single core keyword: "Khorne."
All this information had been compiled, filtered, and summarized by Hammer from the Imperial Database, Canaan’s internal databanks, and public academic papers. All redundancies and speculation had been removed, leaving only verified facts and high-value intelligence.
"Believers of Khorne derive their power from bloody sacrifices to the ’Master of Skulls’ and absolute loyalty...
Their regenerative abilities and physical strength increase exponentially with the number of kills, especially after devouring the souls and flesh of the strong..."
"...To counter the frenzied and bloodthirsty nature of the Believers of Khorne, the Imperial Military Industry Department and the Mechanical God Sect have jointly developed various types of special equipment.
The ’Soul Suppression’ series of power armor features a coating embedded with a micro Spiritual Energy Purification Array capable of neutralizing the corrosion of Chaos Spiritual Energy. It can effectively weaken the chaotic, frenzied spiritual energy aura of a Fallen One, reducing their contamination of the surrounding environment and their mental impact on ordinary people."
The ’Silence’ series of alloy weapons can, upon striking a Chaos Creature, instantly create a minuscule ’Spiritual Vacuum Zone’ within its body. This disrupts or even severs its energy link to the Evil God, causing a lethal effect far exceeding physical damage..."
"...Furthermore, the Demon Judges under the Imperial Court of Justice are equipped with strategic-level ’Spiritual Energy Incineration’ devices and the ’Divine Judgment’ armament, inscribed with the Imperial Decree. They are the ultimate bane of all Chaos Believers..."
Like a dry sponge, Qin Feng frantically absorbed it all.
He read with extreme care, deeply engraving every countermeasure, every piece of equipment’s characteristics, and every tactical point into his mind.
Revenge was never just about blind passion.
Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will never be defeated.
The one he intended to hunt was a monster that was continuously growing stronger at a terrifying rate. Any small advantage in information could become the key to life and death in the future.
After a long while, he slowly opened his eyes, and the countless light screens before him vanished instantly.
"So... there’s power armor, weapons, and equipment specifically designed to counter Chaos Believers."
He murmured to himself, a hint of realization in his voice.
All of this top-tier special equipment was priceless.
This only strengthened his resolve to frantically seize resources in the upcoming Warband Ranking Tournament.
He raised his head and gazed into the void, as if his sight could pierce through the dormitory walls to some distant corner of the starry sky.
There, perhaps, a monster was on a mad killing spree, growing stronger and stronger.
"One step at a time..."
Qin Feng took a deep breath, suppressing all the surging emotions within him. His gaze became as calm as an ancient well once more. "Shi Dang... I will kill you."
This vow was not roared or bellowed, but spoken with a cold, absolute resolve, like ten-thousand-year-old ice.
He closed all the data pages on Chaos Believers and deftly opened the Fearless Warband’s private forum.
The official start of the Warband Ranking Tournament was less than three days away.
He needed to catch up on the latest rules and developments.
As soon as he entered, he saw that the Warband’s internal announcement board had been completely updated again.
At the very top was a huge, eye-catching countdown in blood-red text.
[Warband Ranking Tournament Countdown: 2 days, 23 hours, 15 minutes, 46 seconds (Imperial Standard Time)]
The seconds ticked down silently, relentlessly, like a war drum beating for the coming carnival, instilling a sense of unseen urgency in every Warband member who saw it.