Chapter 621: One Teammate Down Right from the Start |
Dry. Impossibly dry.
The instant his five senses returned, Cheng Shi discovered his surroundings were blisteringly arid. The parched air scraped the last traces of moisture from his nasal membranes the moment it was inhaled—as if the air itself were more dehydrated than his flesh-and-blood body.
Consciousness rushed in next. He felt a tightness in his nose and instinctively wrinkled it. Before he could process what was happening, warmth trickled out.
Nosebleed.
Cheng Shi jolted, eyes snapping open. But he paid zero attention to the twin rivulets of blood running down his lips and chin; instead, he immediately pulled out his wristwatch and checked the time.
In a Time trial, no one could afford to ignore the clock.
And what he saw nearly scared his soul out of his body.
7:59:55!
Five seconds to the hour!
Every nerve pulled taut. For Time, the hour mark was sacrosanct—its Oracle Act was precision and punctuality. In a Time trial, every stroke of the hour demanded utmost vigilance.
Especially after the stunt Pointer Knight Jiang Chi had pulled in the trial before last—that performance had permanently branded Cheng Shi with a deep wariness of the first hour mark.
So the instant he checked the time, this cautious warrior pulled out a lance—and without even looking, swept it behind him.
Someone was back there!
Though only two seconds had elapsed between opening his eyes and the backswing, Cheng Shi had used his peripheral vision to scan every inch of his surroundings.
He was unquestionably in a rundown inn. Mud-plastered walls and rotting plank beds told him the trial's starting locale wasn't exactly prosperous. The two beds crammed side by side also conveyed a crucial detail: this was a double room.
A double room in an inn wasn't unusual. But as a player's spawn point, it demanded immediate attention.
His hearing and smell had been working overtime too. At the moment he'd checked his watch, he'd caught heavy breathing, the scrape of metal—and a faint scent of blood drifting toward him.
Given every red flag, Cheng Shi had made the snap decision—and greeted his "roommate" with maximum enthusiasm.
A lance swing!
He wasn't picking a fight. He simply refused to be caught in another "Pointer Knight" scenario. At least at this particular hour mark, before confirming the identity of whoever was behind him, he couldn't let Time's tricks repeat.
The Time Battlefield's rules required activation on an undisputed hour—and the dispute had to be resolved by the next one. By starting a conflict before the hour struck, he could nullify the first hour's window for opening a Time Battlefield!
And so, the next second—
CLANG!
Steel met steel with an explosive ring. Cheng Shi's right hand went numb—his lance had struck something like a block of iron. He froze, immediately released his grip and dodged. In the split second he twisted aside, a silver gleam sliced through—a slender sword point thrusting at where he'd just been standing.
But the thrust was aimed low. Judging by its trajectory, it wasn't targeting a vital—more like the fleshy area of his thigh or hip.
"..."
Alarm flashed through Cheng Shi's mind. He kept retreating. One glance at the sword's angle told him his roommate probably wasn't a Time follower either—the man was defending against Time's tricks too.
Cheng Shi rolled clear. Seeing his watch had safely ticked past the hour, he rose from the corner with a light chuckle, brushed off the dust, and greeted his equally cautious teammate with a friendly smile:
"What a rare—"
But the words died in his throat. The smile froze. Surprise flooded his features. He studied the hulking man before him, looked him up and down several times, and finally clasped his fists in genuine respect:
"Impressive. You have my admiration. You're the first person I've seen bring cosplay into a trial.
But bro—who are you going as? Lü Bu? Xiang Yu?"
Indeed—the man before him was extraordinarily tall, at least six-foot-four, clad head to toe in battle armor and iron greaves. The exaggerated getup made it impossible not to mistake him for a cosplay enthusiast.
That also explained the metallic clang—Cheng Shi's backswing had struck the man's steel vambrace, leaving nothing but a faint gray-white streak. Zero penetration.
What was notable, though, was the slender sword in the armored man's grip—far too delicate for the rest of his ensemble. Like a legendary berserker picking up a rapier.
He wore no helmet. Cropped hair, blade-sharp brows, hawkish eyes—an imposing figure by any measure. But the twin red streaks beneath his nose mirrored Cheng Shi's own, instantly deflating the intimidation factor into something almost comical. Though it did soften the oppressive aura of all that heavy armor.
Cheng Shi bit his lip, barely keeping a straight face.
'Tsk—before the dry air, all men are equal.'
But beyond the nosebleed, Cheng Shi noticed the man was injured—and badly.
The faint blood-scent hadn't come from the man's face. That tiny nosebleed couldn't have produced a noticeable odor so quickly. What Cheng Shi had smelled was bleeding from under the armor—from the body itself.
'Fighting to the wire right before a special trial? Interesting.'
The armored man's sharp gaze tracked Cheng Shi's evasion path. When he registered his teammate's face, surprise flashed, then a rueful smile and shake of the head—eyes full of emotion.
"Cheng Shi. Never expected to run into you."
"..."
The smile vanished. The worst-case scenario had arrived. After the past few trials, his face had clearly spread through the peak player circuit. More and more people would recognize him going forward.
But the man's tone suggested genuine familiarity.
No hostility in those eyes. So—whose friend was he?
Cheng Shi's eyes rolled thoughtfully. He retrieved his lance from the ground, stowed it, and observed that the man made no threatening move—further confirming his guess. He straightened up, flashed a bright smile, and got straight to the point:
"My apologies—had to be careful in a Time trial. Nothing personal. Since you know me, I'll skip the introduction.
What should I call you, bro?"
"Qin Xin." The armored warrior laughed heartily and moved to step forward, hand extended in friendship—only for his face to drain white. He staggered and toppled backward.
Seeing this seemingly friendly teammate about to crash to the floor, Cheng Shi frowned, immediately raised his hands—
And clapped them over his ears.
BOOM—
The heavy armor slammed into the ground, shaking the entire room. Dust cascaded from the ceiling. For a moment, the room became a sandstorm.
Watching the scene, Cheng Shi's expression teetered between alarm and suspicion.
'Good thing I covered my ears fast. That impact—wait. Qin Xin?'
His eyebrow twitched. The last time he'd heard that name was from Zhen Yi's mouth.
Back then, Zhen Yi—posing as her future self—had pointed to a scar beneath her ribs and said: "Qin Xin did this. He's not a bad person, but his luck is atrocious. Avoid him if you can."
'So this is the Qin Xin who made Zhen Yi say "avoid him if you can"?!'
Cheng Shi's gaze instantly turned assessing. What had happened between this man and Zhen Yi to earn such profound grudge?
'Was she afraid of being punched into paste? Is that why she spoke so disparagingly?'
Still, just looking at the man's build and gear was enough to give most players pause.
'But why did she say his luck was bad?'
Thinking about it—in history, both Xiang Yu and Lü Bu had ended rather... poorly.
'Hiss—'
'Surely it's not like that... right?'
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but Cheng Shi snapped back quickly, studying the collapsed armored figure with renewed caution.
"Bro?"
No response from Qin Xin. Even his breathing had grown faint. This didn't look like an act. Cheng Shi's brow furrowed. He flicked a scalpel into his palm, dropped a die at his feet, and slowly approached.
Before long, he confirmed it: Qin Xin was genuinely wounded—severely so. That he'd managed to enter in this condition could only mean one thing: the battle he'd been fighting hadn't ended when the special trial pulled him in!
'What a warrior. Don't tell me he's... a War follower?'
Mid-thought, Cheng Shi abruptly halted and backed away—putting distance between himself and the fallen man once more.
He wasn't refusing to help. He was clearing himself of suspicion first—because he'd already heard hurried footsteps outside the door.