Chapter 4: The God Hand Has Arrived! [Please Follow and Support!]

Xia Hong gave Xia Chuan a glance and quietly handed him a hand axe.

Then he stepped to the front and spoke to the two Xia Dings:

“Father, my brother and I cannot tell which of you is real—could we each approach one of you closely, examine you carefully, and then decide?”

“Fine, come closer!”

Both Xia Dings answered in unison, clearly confident.

Xia Hong took a deep breath, patted his younger brother Xia Chuan, signaled him to go left, and walked toward the Xia Ding on the right.

The two brothers moved in step, arriving before the two Xia Dings almost simultaneously.

Xia Hong widened his eyes, scanning the right-hand Xia Ding—from head to toe, back and forth—as if not seeing clearly enough, he circled behind him.

Xia Ding’s face was full of sincerity, his expression utterly confident; he let Xia Hong circle behind him, even straightened his posture to make it easier to inspect.

Yet the moment Xia Hong stood behind him, his eyes instantly turned crimson, his expression twisting into something monstrous.

“Attack!”

The roar startled everyone into stillness.

Xia Hong and Xia Chuan both raised their hand axes and brought them down hard upon the “Xia Ding” before each of them.

Thud…

The axe met the skull—ideally, brains should have splattered, the scene horrifically bloody.

But Xia Chuan’s axe never even reached Xia Ding’s head; the man caught it bare-handed.

Xia Hong, stronger than his brother, struck true—his axe cleaved through Xia Ding’s skull.

It split the head cleanly in two.

Yet terrifyingly, no yellow or white matter spilled out—instead, the head split like wood, the halves still connected at the neck.

More horrifying still, despite having his skull split open, the “Xia Ding” kept his eyes moving, studying Xia Hong with morbid curiosity, even smiling.

But that smile looked utterly sinister.

“Chuan, retreat!”

Xia Hong didn’t even have time to pull his axe free—he shouted to Xia Chuan across the way and bolted backward toward the camp crowd.

Xia Chuan heard him and immediately pulled back, abandoning his axe entirely, retreating to the rear.

Everyone in the camp had been stunned by the brothers’ actions; now seeing the “Xia Ding’s” appearance, they understood at once.

The Xia Ding who returned later—was definitely fake.

What about the one on the left?

Why did Xia Chuan attack? Was he fake too?

As the crowd hesitated in shock, the left Xia Ding moved.

He stepped before the right Xia Ding, reached into the split skull, gently stroked twice, then pressed both halves together with his hands.

The split skull magically sealed itself shut.

Worse still, the “Xia Ding” twisted his neck, then turned to fix his gaze on Xia Hong standing before the camp crowd—and smiled, sinisterly.

This eerie spectacle sent chills through everyone in the camp.

The left Xia Ding stepped forward and spoke to Xia Hong.

“Fascinating, fascinating—my two creations are identical to your father, and I left no flaws. How did you two figure it out?”

His voice sounded like wood shavings grinding together—raspy, grating, unnatural.

“If one of you is real and one is fake, the fake one couldn’t possibly know so much about you and your father—but you both know everything, so…”

Xia Hong fell silent, his expression darkening.

Xia Ding could never have revealed all this.

This wraith knew so much about the camp—and about Xia Ding.

There was only one possibility.

“Heheheh, clever. That Xia Ding was fleeing away from your camp when he died, trying to lure me off—seems he cared deeply for you all!”

“I’ll kill you!”

Beside him, Xia Chuan, hearing from the wraith that his father Xia Ding was dead, lost control—he charged bare-fisted straight at the wraith.

Xia Hong reacted instantly, blocking him.

“Stay calm!”

If Xia Hong felt no pain inside, that would be a lie.

But right now, there was no time to grieve.

Both “Xia Dings” had closed in, and the twenty-four lumbermen stood expressionless behind them—clearly preparing to attack.

“Everyone, fight for your lives!”

Xia Hong didn’t hesitate—he roared and charged forward.

Though he spoke these words, Xia Hong had no real hope.

Twenty-six lumber-level fighters—against two hundred-plus in the camp—even if they fought to the death, their chances were slim.

Worse still, he knew nothing about the wraith that could mimic Xia Ding.

It surely had more abilities than just transformation.

Was he really going to die just a month after being reborn?

The answer was clear.

The camp folk did indeed surge forward with him like a tidal wave.

But the two “Xia Dings” crushed them—one punch, one corpse.

In moments, at least twenty men lay dead.

Blood sprayed, screams rose.

Soon, the entire cave reeked of thick, cloying blood.

Thud…

Xia Hong was kicked hard, slamming into the cave wall—blood gushed from his mouth.

Watching the slaughter inside the cave, despair welled up in his chest.

In the month since his rebirth, he had studied tirelessly, always thinking how to grow stronger.

Because whether it was his father Xia Ding or the former lumbermen, they constantly reminded him: the outside world was deadly.

Yet as his strength steadily grew, and life inside the cave remained peaceful, he’d slowly come to believe this was merely a colder version of another world.

Only now did he truly realize:

The danger of this world far exceeded his imagination.

His efforts, which he’d considered so diligent, meant nothing before the wraith.

“Brother… save… me…”

Xia Chuan’s hoarse, broken whimper reached his ears.

Xia Hong turned his head—and his eyes burned with rage.

The “Xia Ding” wore a cruel smile, gripping Xia Chuan’s throat tightly, pinning him against the wall.

As if amused, he deliberately held back—refusing to snap the neck outright, instead slowly increasing pressure, letting Xia Chuan choke and writhe in agony.

Since arriving in this world a month ago, his father Xia Ding was often away, returning only at night, and even then spoke little to him.

So Xia Hong’s feelings toward Xia Ding were never deep.

But for his younger brother Xia Chuan, whom he’d lived with every day, his bond ran far deeper.

The wraith’s grip tightened further—Xia Chuan’s throat crushed, blood seeped from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, his face contorting in torment.

At this moment, Xia Hong felt no fear of death—only fury at his own weakness, and a burning, desperate hunger for power.

If only I were stronger… just a little stronger…

The massacre in the cave continued—over fifty or sixty bodies now lay on the ground.

Many had gone mad, fleeing toward the cave entrance—but their speed and strength were nothing compared to the enemy’s; they were cut down before reaching the exit.

【Encountered catastrophic destruction. Camp system rebuilding. Awarded: Basic Structure—Small Firepit. Please check your inventory.】

At that moment, a voice echoed in his mind.

Xia Hong, having lived two lives, had never heard a sound so beautiful.

(End of Chapter)