Chapter 34: A Blade from the Past, Pinning the Demon to the Throne

On the outskirts of Bianyuelong, in the satellite district.

A fortress built from piles of scrap metal stood under dim, flickering lights, the air thick with the acrid smell of alcohol and sweat.

Around it, greasy chunks of meat, half-rotten fruit, and shattered bread lay scattered, trampled underfoot by revelers, turning into a muddy mess beneath their feet.

An old phonograph emitted a harsh, grating melody.

Men and women writhed together under the chaotic lights, entwined in passion like lust-driven maggots, lost in the hallucinations brought on by drugs.

The territorial leader, Ma Lie, sat atop a high platform in the hall, draped in tattered furs, clutching a jewel-encrusted goblet.

Surrounding him were a group of alluring women, clad in revealing dance costumes, swaying their waists to the frenzied rhythm, their sharp laughter piercing the air.

A scout pushed through the dazed crowd and approached Ma Lie, whispering, “Boss, there’s a cross-level order...”

“Activate this person.”

His tone was tense as he pulled out a photo of Li Guanqi, his gaze flickering nervously around, as if fearing prying eyes.

Upon hearing the words “cross-level order,” Ma Lie’s pupils constricted sharply.

Normally, their orders came from the Substar division. A cross-level order indicated a direct notice from the Epoch Division, a matter of great importance—potentially risking the lives of an entire base.

At the same time, successfully completing such a cross-level mission would yield substantial rewards.

It was supposed to be a high-risk, high-reward operation.

Yet the task was the most ordinary, the simplest—activation?

Ma Lie waved away the women nearby and pointed at the photo with a grave voice: “Who is this person?”

“He is...” The scout hesitated, “a true numbered citizen.”

“What the hell are you joking about?!” Ma Lie grabbed the scout by the collar and shouted angrily.

“Boss,” the scout stammered, “intelligence confirms he really is a numbered citizen.”

Ma Lie’s expression darkened as he asked, “What’s his Ethna? What card does he have?”

If a person lacked status, they should at least have an Ethna or carry a high-spirituality card; only then would a notification from the Epoch Division be justified.

Ethna: the blue bar equivalent to that of the Antanan people, a fundamental logic.

Comparable to spiritual energy in fantasy worlds, reiatsu in Death God tales, chakra in Naruto, or haki in One Piece.

“He... he has no card,” the scout reported, gasping for breath. “His Ethna is just over five hundred points, a true numbered citizen. Strangely, he uses the Juling Division’s card deck and managed a one-versus-three in the league.”

“Perhaps the higher-ups want to...”

Ma Lie gave the scout a warning look, and the scout immediately fell silent.

One must never speculate on the thoughts of the Epoch Division—this was an unspoken rule of Zhong.

They were mere seconds on the clock, and obedience was their only option.

“No identity, no card,” Ma Lie stared at Li Guanqi’s photo, unable to piece anything together.

Generally, the higher the status and Ethna of a dual-shadowed person, the richer their experiences and the stronger the symbiotic mysterious card’s spirituality within them, making their activation and awakening abilities far more valuable.

But this kid had nothing.

Then what was the point of activating him? This mission was strangely suspicious.

“Boss,” the scout hesitated, “time is running out.”

“Gather up!” Ma Lie’s pupils contracted sharply as he roared, slamming the jewel-encrusted goblet onto the ground.

The shattering glass snapped the revelers out of their intoxication; the dancing women screamed and scattered, and the phonograph’s music abruptly ceased.

A cold, commanding broadcast echoed throughout the base.

“Everyone, sober up!” Ma Lie stood, “Full deployment! Intercept and activate!”

“We’ve got work to do!” the underlings shouted.

“Drugs... we’ve got drugs...”

“With such a big operation...”

“Who cares, get in the vehicles!”

The rusted metal fortress gates thundered open as one modified black SUV after another rolled out of the garage, each vehicle adorned with wild graffiti and spewing blue flames from their exhausts.

...

At Bianyuelong’s victory feast, Lin Yu and Tang Xin were thoroughly drunk.

Li Guanqi, slightly tipsy, mumbled, “What are the requirements to join a battle team?”

“Uh,” Qin Dongzhu blinked before answering, “Legends rank or higher in the rankings, academy graduate, pass the team’s interview and practical assessments.”

“Also...”

He paused, then sighed helplessly.

“First, you have to be a citizen.”

Using a numbered citizen as an emergency substitute was only allowed once per season.

“A citizen, huh.” Li Guanqi sighed in resignation.

He had no super-computer ring, which was tantamount to lacking an ID card, bank card, phone, luggage, or personal doctor.

His six-point honor score from a one-versus-three league victory and Qin Dongzhu’s personal prize of three hundred thousand gold points couldn’t be registered or transferred.

“Honestly, I don’t recommend you join the team,” Qin Dongzhu said bitterly. “The team has no real desire to win.”

“No new recruits...”

“Even if you win the championship, it won’t mean much...”

“The ‘Yubel’ deck belongs to the Juling Division.”

“I suggest you,” he said seriously, locking eyes with Li Guanqi, “enter the Juling Division.”

“The Juling Division?” Li Guanqi frowned, knowing little about the organization.

Qin Dongzhu confirmed no one was nearby, then pulled out two crystals—one red, one blue—and handed them to Li Guanqi.

“These are fire and electric crystals.”

“Each contains one hundred milligrams of negative-element crystals. You can exchange them for three hundred thousand gold points at the Juling Division.”

Negative-element crystals were the ultimate hard currency in Antanana, their exchange rate rising annually—from one gram for one million gold points in the year 1048 to one gram for one and a half million in 1067.

“Thanks.” Li Guanqi carefully pocketed the fire and electric crystals.

This was the first pot of gold he had received since arriving in this unfamiliar world; it was precious.

“No need to be so polite,” Qin Dongzhu said, gazing up at the moon, smiling softly as he muttered to himself, “If only you had come ten years earlier...”

“Maybe you could’ve helped Bianyuelong reach level six.”

Over a decade ago, the Bianyuelong battle team had been magnificent, unstoppable.

He was only seven then, watching the veterans duel in the arena, eyes shining, dreaming of being just as impressive when he grew up.

But sadly, times had changed.

He never imagined that, over a decade later, the stronghold would have lost all fighting spirit—irresponsible, underfunded, training casually, content only not to be relegated.

Li Guanqi nodded silently, feeling some regret at not being able to join the team anytime soon.

“Oh, right,” Qin Dongzhu suddenly remembered something. After searching on his phone, he handed it to Li Guanqi. “The Fifth Division of the Juling Bureau is recruiting these days. You might want to consider it.”

“The Juling Division offers a bigger stage and greater safety.”

Li Guanqi’s eyes were drawn to the phone screen, which displayed a recruitment announcement for the Fifth Division of the Juling Bureau.

The interview location was clearly marked, accompanied by a picture of the Fifth Division’s gate.

The gate was solemn and imposing, evoking a sense of inviolability.

Before it stood a peculiar stone statue—that was the Juling Division’s emblem: a demon hanging its head, pinned to a throne by a sword.

Beneath the statue appeared to be two lines of inscription.

Li Guanqi frowned slightly, enlarging the image on the screen to read the words more clearly.

“A sword from the past... pins the demon to the throne.”