463: 45g

the collective moved.

Lu Jianchuan had just stood up from the ground and hadn't even steadied himself when that purple figure appeared behind Ye Ouyang.

Ye Ouyang was crouching on the ground, his claws having just pulled out of Lu Jianchuan's arm, with golden liquid still flowing from the tips. He didn't even turn his head—or rather, he didn't have time to.

the collective kicked him in the lower back, sending him flying. Ye Ouyang lost his balance in mid-air, and before he could land, the collective's fist had already caught up.

One punch, two, three, four—every blow smashed into Ye Ouyang, his golden armor letting out ear-piercing cracking sounds under the continuous assault. The final punch slammed into his head, pinning him into the ground like a nail.

Boom!

A large crater exploded into the ground, cracks spreading in all directions, causing even Lu Jianchuan, standing several meters away, to be jolted back two steps.

The dust cleared. Ye Ouyang lay at the bottom of the crater, his warm golden armor having disappeared, revealing his blood-stained casual clothes underneath. He kept his eyes closed, motionless, with only a faint rise and fall in his chest. Forced transformation cancellation—the armor would automatically disengage upon detecting fatal damage, using the remaining energy to preserve the wearer's life.

the collective looked down at the unconscious youth in the crater and raised a foot, preparing to kick him away.

Shen Mingyuan's gun fired.

Without charging or aiming, the sniper rifle fired continuously, one black-red beam after another heading straight for the collective's head. the collective tilted its head; a bullet grazed its mask, and another hit its temple, exploding into a cloud of dust. It was forced to retract its foot and take half a step back.

Shen Mingyuan didn't stop. He dropped the sniper rifle and clapped his hands together—the dual pistols dismantled and re-embedded into his forearm armor. Falcon Dive Form. five-colored black wings spread out behind him, and he lunged in front of Ye Ouyang like a diving eagle, folding his wings to wrap him inside.

the collective's fist arrived.

That punch slammed into the wings, the sound of shattering bones clearly audible. The wings collapsed like a broken paper umbrella, and Shen Mingyuan was sent flying along with Ye Ouyang in his arms. The two rolled on the ground several times, crashed through a low wall, and rolled several more meters before stopping.

Shen Mingyuan propped himself up from the ground; Ye Ouyang was protected securely in his arms and was fine. His own wings hung limp behind him, five-colored black feathers scattered everywhere, and the wing bones were broken in several places. He gritted his teeth, deactivated the Falcon Dive Form, and retracted the wings into his body. The intense pain caused cold sweat to break out on his forehead—wings were extremely sensitive organs, and the pain of broken bones was no ordinary pain.

Lin Yuan crawled out of the ruins, his red armor covered in dust. He shook his hands and was about to charge forward when the armor suddenly made a sharp cracking sound. Immediately after, all the gaps on the armor's surface opened simultaneously, and streams of dark red blood sprayed out as if draining some waste fluid. Lin Yuan's body swayed, and the armor fell off him like it had lost power, piece by piece onto the ground. He knelt on the floor, gasping for air, his face as white as paper.

emergency protocol. When he was recruited earlier, the Researcher had added a safety measure to his armor—when blood loss reached a dangerous threshold, it would force the transformation to end.

Only Lu Jianchuan remained standing in the field. Shen Mingyuan could barely move.

Wei Ziqing charged out from the side. He hadn't made a move yet, having been waiting. The charge was already complete—in his Heavy Armor Form, that Long Spear was fully powered. He was waiting for a flaw, waiting for a moment of the collective's Divided Soul.

Now was that moment.

The Long Spear turned into a streak of light, moving so fast that even the collective didn't fully react. It instinctively raised its hands to block, crossing them in front of its chest—the spear tip pierced through both palms and nailed into its chest. It didn't pierce the heart, missing by a bit, but it was deep enough.

Wei Ziqing's hand holding the spear shaft was trembling, and his armor had already begun to dismantle. Forced cancellation. He slid down from the spear shaft, rolled a few times on the ground, and was caught by Lu Jianchuan, who threw him to Shen Mingyuan behind them. Shen Mingyuan caught him and dragged him over to Ye Ouyang.

the collective looked down at the spear stuck in its chest and slowly pulled it out. Blood gushed from the wound, but the bleeding soon stopped. The wound was healing at a speed that, while not fast, was visible to the naked eye—in a few minutes, at most, it would be fully recovered.

Lu Jianchuan stood amidst the ruins, his silver-white armor covered in cracks. Shen Mingyuan dragged Wei Ziqing and Ye Ouyang back, retreating behind a further cover, placing them down, and setting up his sniper rifle.

He was the only one left standing in the field.

the collective looked at the silver-white figure walking toward it and tilted its head. Its voice came from behind that purple mask, carrying a sense of condescending confusion and something else that was hard to describe.

“Even so, you still wish to fight?”

Lu Jianchuan did not answer. He simply walked, step by step, the cracks on his armor glinting with a piercing white light under the sun.

the collective sighed and shook its head slightly. It spoke no more, simply raising its arm, purple energy condensing on its fist as it swung toward Lu Jianchuan.

Bang—!

A black-red plasma bullet accurately hit the collective's forehead. Its fist veered half an inch, grazing Lu Jianchuan's shoulder and smashing into the ruins behind him, exploding into a large crater.

Lu Jianchuan didn't look back. He accelerated, sprinted, and headed straight for the slowly healing wound on the collective's chest—the hole left by Wei Ziqing. He smashed his fist into it, his entire arm sinking into the collective's body. The jet ports in his palm turned simultaneously, aiming inward, and sprayed flames.

Blazing white light surged from the wound, and the collective's body suddenly stiffened. The healing flesh exploded under the high temperature, and the smell of charred meat filled the air. It let out a low groan, a hint of pain finally entering its voice.

Then it moved.

It clasped its hands together, raised them high, and smashed them down toward Lu Jianchuan's back. That strike had no fancy techniques, only pure power.

Bang—!

The ground exploded, cracks spreading outward as debris flew. Lu Jianchuan was smashed into a crater, silver-white armor fragments and blood splashing out together, scattering across the cracked ground. He lay prone at the bottom of the crater, a huge gash torn in his armor from chest to back, with blood gushing out.

the collective looked down at him, the charred wound on its chest still smoking.

Lu Jianchuan lay prone at the bottom of the crater, a huge gash torn in his armor from chest to back, with blood gushing out and soaking the debris beneath him. His fingers dug into the cracks in the ground, propping himself up, holding on—the armor did not disengage.

The emergency protocol was frantically alarming within him, the command for forced cancellation washing over his nerves again and again. He gritted his teeth and suppressed all those commands. If he could withstand it last time, he could do it this time too.

He propped up his upper body, silver-white armor fragments falling from his chest. the collective's foot came down, stepping on his back and stomping hard. Crack—the sound of shattering armor and breaking ribs mixed together. Lu Jianchuan's face slammed into the debris, and he could no longer hold himself up.

the collective retracted its foot and didn't spare him another glance. It turned and walked toward Shen Mingyuan's direction.

Shen Mingyuan lay in another part of the ruins, the pair of wings behind him still hanging limp, the intense pain from the broken bones causing sweat to bead on his forehead.

He set up his sniper rifle, the muzzle aimed at the approaching purple figure.

Charging, aiming, firing—the black-red beam shot out, and the collective raised its hand, catching the laser with one hand. The beam flickered a few times in its palm before going out, like snuffing a candle.

It approached Shen Mingyuan step by step. Another shot, then another; the collective didn't dodge, just kept walking. With a final kick, it sent Shen Mingyuan flying. Shen Mingyuan crashed next to Lu Jianchuan, the two of them lying side by side on the ground, neither able to stand up again.

Lu Jianchuan's vision blurred. He looked at that purple back, at that fluttering dark red robe, and his consciousness began to sink. His breathing grew heavier, his heartbeat slower. The factors inside him felt as if they were being suppressed by something, sinking deep down, unable to move.

No.

He gritted his teeth, using his last bit of strength to maintain that faint consciousness.

No.

[Consciousness Space]

Han Chengyu stared at that set of data on the light screen, his finger pressing the confirmation key. 1.47%, the number he had personally suppressed, now lay quietly before his eyes.

He pressed it.

[Restriction lifted. factor concentration limit released.] The numbers on the light screen began to jump. 1.48, 1.49, 1.52—climbing upward slowly but steadily.

[activation protocol initiated. Aptitude Holder factor concentration Breakthrough threshold. Directed Evolution compiling—]

The real world.

Lu Jianchuan lay prone in the pile of debris, his fingers still digging into the cracks in the ground.

Electricity burst out from within him; at first, it was just faint blue-white arcs leaping between the gaps in the shattered armor.

Then it grew denser and brighter; those arcs seemed to come alive, crawling all over his body and pulling those shattered armor fragments back onto him.

the collective turned around.

It watched as the silver-white figure lying on the ground was enveloped in electricity, watched as those fragments reset like a jigsaw puzzle, and watched as that shattered armor reshaped itself within the electricity.

It wasn't a repair, but an evolution. On the silver-white base, dark gold patterns spread from the chest to the limbs, like lava solidifying, or like some ancient runes being carved stroke by stroke.

The shoulder guards rose, becoming thicker and heavier, with lines sharper than before. Electricity leaped across the surface of his body, no longer as irregular discharges, but as rhythmic pulsations, like a heartbeat.

Lu Jianchuan propped up his body. He stood up, the dark gold patterns on the armor flowing with his movements, and those electrical currents flowed quietly over him as if they had a life of their own.

the collective looked at the figure standing up again; behind the purple mask, its pupils contracted slightly.

Lu Jianchuan looked up.