Li Ming sat with his back against the rusted forklift in the abandoned textile factory’s loading yard. The night air was cool and carried the distant echoes of screams and occasional monster roars. His short sword rested across his knees, its blade still faintly stained with dried blood that he hadn’t bothered to clean yet. Two Throne Anchors. The realization settled over him like a heavy cloak. Anchor 1 at the quiet park fountain. Anchor 2 right here, beneath his feet. He could feel them both, faint blue pulses in his mind, like two distant heartbeats. He focused, and a simple menu appeared. [Active Anchor: 2] [Switch to Anchor 1 available in 23 hours, 14 minutes.] A safety net. Two of them. If he died, he would wake up stronger, somewhere familiar. The thought should have brought satisfaction. Instead, it felt strangely hollow. He closed his eyes and let the memories of the past day wash over him. The dungeon runs. The Qingyun Kings’ leader bleeding out under his dagger. The sm

Li Ming moved like a ghost through the pre-dawn streets, sticking to alleys and ruined rooftops. The weight of the short sword at his hip felt familiar now, an extension of his will rather than a tool. His stats had settled after the apartment skirmish, and the fresh fragments from the Iron Fang patrol members sat comfortably in his growing collection. He paused on a half-collapsed overpass, looking back toward the residential block. The sky was still dark, cracked with faint glowing lines that never truly faded. Somewhere in Unit 302, his parents were probably still awake, tending wounds with the potions he had left them. The lie he told them about his own death sat heavier than he expected. Li Ming shook his head once, pushing the thought down. Sentiment was dangerous. Protection from the shadows was safer for everyone. He needed Anchor 3. The textile factory (Anchor 2) was good for the dungeon and industrial zone, but too far if Iron Fang sent a larger force to this residential

Li Ming crouched on the roof of a shattered department store, two kilometers from the Central Plaza. The cracked sky cast an eerie blue tint over everything, making the gathering crowds below look like ghosts moving through fog. From his elevated position, he had a clear view of the Ascension Gate. It was impossible to miss. A towering structure of swirling black and silver energy, thirty meters tall, stood in the heart of the plaza. Blue runes pulsed along its frame, and a semi-transparent barrier prevented anyone below Level 25 from getting too close. Hundreds of survivors had already congregated around it, some in organized guild formations, others in loose desperate groups. The global timer in the corner of his vision read: [Second Monster Tide: 38 hours, 12 minutes until arrival] He checked his status as he observed. Name: Li Ming Level: 29 Strength: 92 Agility: 74 Vitality: 78 Intelligence: 20 Mana: 16 Luck: 14 Strong enough to qualify for the Gate. But strength alo

Li Ming remained seated inside Anchor 3 for nearly an hour after waking from reincarnation, eyes closed as he cycled through his new stats and skills. The +22% multiplier had transformed his body once again. Every breath felt more powerful, every small movement carried greater weight. Yet the echo of his mother’s trembling voice refused to fade. Ming’er… If that’s you… please. Come home. He opened his eyes and stared at the rusted ceiling of the water tower. The long game demanded detachment. Attachment created weakness. Weakness got people killed, permanently, in most cases. But logic and emotion warred inside him like two separate systems. The global timer continued its merciless countdown. [Second Monster Tide: 13 hours, 19 minutes until arrival] Li Ming stood, sheathed his short sword, and slipped out of the tower. He needed to see the situation with his own eyes. Iron Fang’s activity around the residential block had intensified dramatically. News of the convoy attack had spr

The Second Monster Tide crashed over Qingyun City like a tidal wave of teeth and fury. Li Ming crouched on the second floor of a half-collapsed office building overlooking the Central Plaza, thirty-eight meters from the densest fighting. The Ascension Gate pulsed with silver-black energy in the center, a beacon drawing both survivors and monsters alike. The sky had torn open wider than ever before. Monstrous silhouettes poured through the cracks — not only the familiar scuttlers and shadow wolves, but hulking armored behemoths the size of trucks, flying bat-like creatures with razor wings, and elongated serpentine horrors that slithered across buildings. Screams and roars merged into a constant deafening cacophony. The guilds had formed defensive lines around the Gate. Iron Fang, with over a hundred members still standing, held the eastern flank under Zhang Wei and Vice-Leader Luo Chen. Blood Hammer occupied other sectors, their members fighting desperately while eyeing each other