Chapter 782: Ninth Round

"Hold on... just one more round..."

"Hold on one more round!"

They struggled to get up from the ground.

Zhang Yong's whole body was drained of strength; the exposed skin on his body was like cooked meat, and even a slight movement caused it to peel off in patches.

Cracks opened, revealing wounds with pinkish-white muscle, spread all over his body.

The sixth round of attacks began.

On the battlefield, not only did blanket white phosphorus shells appear, but scattered mutants also appeared.

A coordinated ground‑air attack.

Since he wasn't specialized in physique, he had hardly any damage reduction.

He was practically struggling on the brink of death.

Persisting until now, it wasn't for himself, but purely to help Lin An earn more points.

Even if it's just one point.

"Captain Zhang..."

"Li Zhenping died in the sixth round... he encountered a spiritual attack..."

In the team channel, the voices of the members brought by Zhang Yong were low.

Only four people stayed with him until now; the other team members either died in the trial or were forced to withdraw early.

Silence.

Zhang Yong took out a knife and cut at his calf, throwing the still‑burning dead flesh onto the ground; his face turned pale.

The white phosphorus shell attack creates an inextinguishable chemical fire; only by burning the contaminated area to ash will it go out.

"Retreat."

"Let everyone withdraw from the trial..."

"We can't afford to lose any more manpower."

His eyes showed sorrow.

Every team member who has made it this far is an absolutely trustworthy companion.

They cannot die again.

Each person still has some points left on them; these points are ones Lin An has never taken.

Although Lin An didn't ask for them, to Zhang Yong they are a reserve for Lin An.

At this stage, their lives are no longer their own.

Lin An needs trustworthy Awakened Ones to serve as a medium for farming points...

"And what about you... Captain Zhang..."

On the other end of the communication, across each trial world, the team members asked anxiously.

Among them, only one barely counts as a physique type; the others forcibly exchanged attributes to enter the trial.

From an individual standpoint, they basically don't need to participate in the trial.

"Me?"

He gave a bitter laugh.

Zhang Yong raised his head to look at the current number of people, then slowly closed his eyes:

"I'll hold on one more round... to earn a few more points..."

"Don't worry, I won't seek death."

"My life is still useful..."

The communication cut off.

Zhang Yong staggered to his feet, his gaze fixed firmly on the sky.

His persistence, aside from bringing himself closer to death...

Maybe it has little effect, maybe it's meaningless.

Maybe Lin An doesn't even need those few points of his.

But for him, he just wants to do his part, as he promised.

To the best of his ability.

I am not a hero, nor as powerful an existence as Lin An.

But perhaps I am that glimmer of light that makes up the flame.

"The seventh round of the trial is over."

"The next round will open in one minute..."

"Current remaining participants: 312 people"

In the pit, Zhang Tie spat lightly, coughing up a mouthful of bloody foam.

He grimaced, shaking off the dust on his body; his gaze was no longer as carelessly fearless as before.

"Damn it."

"They've gone straight to the electromagnetic cannon..."

"Going any further, could it be a nuclear bomb?"

The transformation effect has already been activated.

Having transformed into a silver giant bear, the sharp hairs on his body are somewhat withered.

Glancing at the fact that over three hundred people are still holding on, he couldn't help muttering.

"Damn, there are actually so many indestructible little strong ones?"

The current attack intensity is making even him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

After a few more rounds of resistance, he feels like he's about to trigger the death‑exemption effect.

"Lin Dui, this group of physique Awakened Ones feels pretty badass..."

Unable to help it, he contacted Lin An to vent about the past, and Zhang Tie conjured a yellow‑peach canned food from behind his buttocks, intending to replenish some "stamina".

"That's quite normal."

On the other end of the call, Lin An's pupils were completely black, obviously having briefly activated his Demonic Form in the earlier trial.

"Physique Awakened Ones experience near‑death incidents in reality far more often than other systems."

"That's precisely why many of them are on the verge of unlocking the Gene Lock, or have already done so..."

"Their performance naturally surpasses that of the Awakened Ones from the first two trials."

It's very fair, yet also very cruel.

The fairness lies in their ability to achieve better results in the trial.

The cruelty lies in the competition being extraordinarily brutal.

The ranking function the system deliberately provided in this trial is obviously meant with great malice.

Hold on for one more round, and perhaps you'll be first.

Under the temptation of such honor and points, it is death.

When most people have held out to the end after unlocking the Gene Lock, the Gene Lock loses its meaning.

What they're fighting for is the will to either give up or not when faced with possible death.

It's quite ironic.

Physique‑system Awakened Ones survive the best, yet the trial forces them to choose...

Who dares to get closer to death?

"The eighth round of the trial has ended."

"Please get ready."

"Current number of participants: 63 people."

Cold and merciless, the number of participants drops sharply again.

However, everyone has noticed one thing.

That many trial participants died under the eighth‑round attack rather than quitting early.

This means many have misjudged their own survivability.

An intangible emotion spreads, named fear.

The final 63 Awakened Ones listen to the gradually sounding one‑minute countdown, their faces strained.

Some are confident they can withstand another round, while others cling to luck, hoping the next attack won't target them too heavily.

Others feel immense pressure.

Really, can they still hold on until the next round?

Injuries are severe.

If it weren't for most physique‑system individuals having built‑in recovery methods, they would have already died from serious injuries and various negative effects.

Siberia War Zone, a hulking Awakened One like a giant gasps heavily.

Pressure... too great.

The authority over death lies in their hands.

Although he feels he could still hold on, he dares not gamble.

His ranking is now locked within the top 100, and the points he's earned are enough for him to use.

He had already unlocked the Gene Lock before...

Hold on longer, and fight for a top‑ten spot?

The rewards and honor are indeed tempting.

But what if... everyone is much stronger than him?

Perhaps holding on for another round actually wouldn't raise his rank much, but instead would put him in danger—what then?

Isolated from seeing each other, suspicion and lack of information have left many Awakened Ones struggling.

Those with companions are better off; if their companions have persisted to now, they still have a reference standard.

But most of those who have held out to now are the outstanding individuals from each war zone, and none of them can communicate.

Self‑doubt, wild thoughts.

Could it be that everyone is actually very strong?

Could it be that the next round will suddenly spike the difficulty, raising the attack without following the previous increase pattern?

The constantly jumping countdown feels like a death knell.

"I..."

He let out a low growl, really unable to keep gambling.

"Give up!"

The same scene plays out across the trial grounds.

With the final countdown at three seconds, the number of participants in the ninth round suddenly drops to 11.

"A bunch... of cowards..."

Olya War Zone, a man who is a beetle‑human hybrid curled inside his epidermal armor looks contemptuously at the dwindling numbers.

Possessing insect‑type creature traits, combined with armor that feels like cheating, he has persisted to this point.

"If you don't even have the courage to face the attack, what kind of Awakened Ones' Shield are you?!"

The broadened skeletal tissue on his back, like an external shell, he curled the corners of his mouth into a confident smile.

"If nothing unexpected, the next round of attack should be the armor-piercing bullet series, paired with a Second Level Mutant."

"Or perhaps, a high-energy laser?"

"It doesn't matter."

"As long as he protects his brain, even if blown into four or five pieces, he can still survive."

"He looked up at the sky, even somewhat anticipating that the next attack would be stronger, preferably so that only he could survive."

"In his anticipation, the system prompt arrived as expected:"

"The ninth round of attack begins."

"This attack's preview:"

"250000-ton yield, Tactical Nuclear Bomb!"

"In midair, an inconspicuous black dot drifted down slowly."

"On the ground, the man's smile stiffened, as if turned into a stone statue, he stood frozen in place."

"No!!!"