CR CH85

Chapter 85: Lesson

Class D planet, desert.

The sand flowed like liquid, and the A-rank Sand Phantoms proved troublesome, their mutated, sand-formed bodies endlessly regenerating. The four-man vanguard struggled to maintain their line and prevent a breakthrough.

From the swirling vortex crawled a phantom identical to the S-rank Sand Scorpion. The moment blue chains bound the Sand Scorpion, a black dragon erupted from the soil, joining forces with the phantom to drag it into the sand.

With the domain teetering on the brink of collapse and the surrounding environment crumbling, a sonic boom shattered the air. The Black Falcon pulverized the energy core marked by Ling Kongmiao, while simultaneously, the Sand Scorpion’s own core was shattered by lightning energy.

Whoosh—

A gust of violent wind kicked up a wave of sand. Everyone instinctively raised their arms to shield themselves, but in the end, only a gentle breeze swept past.

“Mission complete.”

The system notification rang out. In the brief silence that followed, only ragged breathing remained until Zhao Hengyi finally waved his hand.

“Holy shit, you really can’t take a break for too long.” He turned back with a smile. “Though our little Tian performed pretty—wait, Tian?!”

His startled cry made everyone instinctively turn back. Jiang Tianji was kneeling on one knee, hand clutching a wound on his abdomen, coughing softly.

“I’m fine.”

Ye was closest and silently reached out to haul him up. Jiang Tianji voiced a quiet thanks.

“You could have dodged, yet you didn’t,” Ling Kongmiao walked over to him. “Do you have some kind of special kink?”

Just as he was about to shatter the Sand Scorpion’s energy core earlier, Jiang Tianji had noticed its tail whipping around. But in that split second, his instincts took over and he chose to press the attack. The razor-sharp scorpion tail scraped across the lower abdomen of his black dragon, allowing corrosive venom to seep into his body.

Just like his previous arena match against Liang Chong, an overly aggressive style was not a good trait in the Special Assistance Unit.

Ling Kongmiao’s unique perception granted him absolute control over the tactical situation. With their vision compromised, even Wei Jiangming—who focused primarily on defense—could not react in time. Jiang Tianji still needed time to adapt to the team.

Ling Kongmiao grabbed his hand away from the wound to inspect the infection. Jiang Tianji instinctively took a step back, prompting a cold sneer from in front of him.

“Now you know how to dodge?”

Jiang Tianji fell quiet for a moment, slightly lifting his eyes to observe his expression. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Ling Kongmiao turned his head toward Wei Jiangming. “Take him to the medical bay first. I still have matters to attend to.”

“Right.” Wei Jiangming nodded. Sensing the tense atmosphere, he let out a soft cough. “He’s young and spirited; having that drive isn’t a bad thing.”

You Li stayed behind to handle the handover with the transport crew for the mutated organisms, while the rest returned to the flight vessel. Once out of the captain’s line of sight, the team members quietly offered Jiang Tianji words of comfort.

“The captain just looks fierce; don’t take it to heart.”

“Yeah, exactly! Performing like this on your first mission is already amazing.”

While squad Z01 functioned as a unit, their training leaned far more heavily toward solo operations.

For standard units with ordinary mission tiers, anyone with slightly stronger capabilities could easily operate independently of their teammates.

The last time Jiang Tianji had encountered an S-rank mutated organism was during the trial simulation, when his consciousness hadn’t been fully clear.

During this actual combat mission, he had let his guard down somewhat. The moment the scorpion tail swept over, a wave of shock had hit him, but what was even scarier than that was emerging from the sand to see Ling Kongmiao quietly staring at him.

Jiang Tianji smiled and thanked his teammates for their comfort, his eyes unconsciously drifting behind him.

The transport craft responsible for escorting the corpse had arrived.

Beside the Sand Scorpion’s carcass, the arriving logistics crew had set up a cordon. Ling Kongmiao walked into the shadows, gazing at the creature’s lusterless eyes.

“Captain Ling.” Someone hurried over to his side, lowering their voice in a difficult dilemma. “Both the Research Institute and Experimental Base 131 submitted applications. There are no directives from above, so… where should we deliver it?”

Normally, only a single application would make it to his level. Ling Kongmiao glanced at his device and, sure enough, found a message from his master. He skipped past the series of profanities at the top and looked straight at the final line.

— Master: Figure it out yourself.

Ling Kongmiao closed his device without a pause, turning his head slightly. “131.”

Making the appropriate choice was never a difficult task for Ling Kongmiao. As the Sand Scorpion’s carcass was loaded onto the transport vessel, he finished handing off the remaining tasks and walked toward the Special Assistance flight vessel.

The land, stripped of its golden sands, looked even more desolate as a white bird circled in midair before flying off into the distance.

The setting sun left behind an intensely rich yellow hue, casting a crimson sheen across the ground that looked like undiluted blood.

Among trending topics on the Star Network, the question “What is death?” frequently appeared. Ling Kongmiao would occasionally browse the comments for a while. Amusingly, amid discussions on this topic, he instead saw answers to “What is living?”

Death was merely destiny casually turning off a light.

When Ling Kongmiao returned to the flight vessel, Jiang Tianji had already completed his first phase of treatment and was leaning against the window, gazing outside.

It was the direction where the transport vessel carrying the Sand Scorpion had departed. As a hunter, Jiang Tianji couldn’t possibly be ignorant of what that Sand Scorpion was.

“Captain.”

Ling Kongmiao walked up to him. Jiang Tianji happened to retract his gaze, standing up to greet him respectfully.

“I know I was wrong. There won’t be a next time.”

His eyes were calm, and Ling Kongmiao could find no lingering traces of negative emotion within them.

“You have one hour of rest time now,” Ling Kongmiao reminded him. “Mental power training begins the moment we reach the Special Assistance facility.”

In the Special Assistance Unit, physical and reaction training schedules were arranged individually—as long as daily quotas were met, since the price of slacking off was death.

Unified training held little meaning for members with different tactical roles. Training rooms were allocated by squad, with AI spirits tailoring the most optimal training plans based on individual strengths, while also allowing internal sparring or team coordination tests at any time.

“Understood.”

Seeing Jiang Tianji nod, Ling Kongmiao said no more, turning to walk toward his private quarters.

The main common quarters and Ling Kongmiao’s dedicated quarters lay in opposite directions. Whether Jiang Tianji had misremembered or simply wasn’t paying attention, he tailed closely behind Ling Kongmiao like a little shadow.

“Your quarters are that way.”

Ling Kongmiao stopped in his tracks, pointing him in the right direction.

Jiang Tianji’s expression showed no surprise as he asked, “Captain, do you have official business to handle?”

“Speak if you have something to say.”

“If you have official business, I’ll head back. If not, I’d like to go to your place.”

“…”

Ling Kongmiao finally turned around, looking at him with a gaze almost akin to research, trying to analyze how he could sound so righteous with such a reason.

“Are you notifying me?”

Jiang Tianji remained completely direct, his eyes innocent. “No, I just want to be with you.”

“I don’t want to.” Ling Kongmiao walked forward without a moment’s hesitation. “If there’s nothing else, go back.”

Jiang Tianji caught up to him, asking as if he hadn’t heard a word, “By the way, Captain, could you tell me a bit about mental power training?”

This stretch of corridor seemed much shorter than usual. By the time Jiang Tianji asked this, the two had already arrived at the entrance of the quarters.

Ling Kongmiao raised his hand to input the passcode. As the mechanical door slowly slid open, he suddenly curved his lips.

“Sure.”

Seeing his sudden shift in attitude, Jiang Tianji felt something was off, but didn’t dwell on it—until he heard the system notification chime.

“Lockdown.”

The windows and mechanical door were locked simultaneously. As the light-shielding protocol engaged, the room plunged into pitch darkness.

“Mental power training requires a relatively enclosed and dark environment. Light and sound might stimulate you unnecessarily.”

Ling Kongmiao seemed to deliberately conceal his presence. Jiang Tianji could feel his existence, but couldn’t pinpoint his exact location. The room was saturated with the scent of jasmine.

“All you need to do is resist. Don’t run away.”

Jiang Tianji pressed his lips together gently. As someone accustomed to taking the lead, he strongly disliked this passive format.

The unknown and the darkness made him somewhat restless, his voice losing its usual clarity and sounding lower than before.

“Captain, we…”

“Begin.” As if he hadn’t heard Jiang Tianji’s hesitation, Ling Kongmiao spoke calmly.

Jiang Tianji heavily suspected this was retaliation. But before he could speak further, a mountain of mental pressure crashed down upon him.

It felt as though a hand were strangling his throat. Jiang Tianji uttered a muffled sound, his knees buckling uncontrollably.

With a heavy thud, he collapsed onto the floor, his eyes dazed as he stared at the ground.

Sparks of lightning energy crackled in the room, triggering Jiang Tianji’s energy suppression ring. At the same time, blue chains erupted from the floor, coiling tightly around him and pinning him firmly in place.

“I… wait a second.”

While Jiang Tianji struggled to stay conscious and expressed his plea in as calm a voice as possible, Ling Kongmiao stood in the corner of the room, leisurely leaning against the window.

“Aren’t you quite good at dodging?”

His eyes gleamed softly in the dark like a feline that had found an interesting prey, subtly revealing a trace of malice.

“The consequences you failed to consider during your attack—you can think them through properly today.”