Frenzied Slaughter System!

The heavy steel gate slammed shut behind him, cutting off the last sliver of outside light.

Lin Ming stood in a dim passageway, his nostrils filled with the pungent stench of rust, blood, and disinfectant.

This was the Vanguard Reserve Camp stationed inside Entrance No. 7 of the outer barricades of South River Base City. Calling it a camp would be generous—it was more like an enormous underground cage.

More than a dozen others had been sent here with him. Every one of them either looked vicious or numb, with marks left by shackles on their bodies. They were clearly all serious criminals.

Only Lin Ming was young and lean, dressed in a faded old training uniform, looking utterly out of place here.

"New arrivals, get over here!"

A cold voice rang out ahead.

A middle-aged man in a heavily worn Guard Army uniform stood at the end of the passageway. A vicious scar ran across his face, and he held a battered electronic tablet in one hand.

His gaze scraped over every person like a blade, devoid of any warmth.

"My name is Zhao Tie. I'm your squad's temporary captain. Of course, I might also be the one seeing you off on your final journey."

His tone was flat, as though he were discussing the weather.

"Here, you have no names, only numbers. You have one task: obey orders, then try to stay alive as long as you can."

Zhao Tie pointed at a rusted iron crate beside him. "Go over there. Each of you take a wristband and put it on. This thing records the ranks and numbers of Mutated Beasts you kill, then converts them into merit points. If you come back alive, those points can be exchanged for food, supplies, or... if you save enough, maybe your wives and children will get a little more pension money."

When he said "pension money," the corner of his mouth curved into an almost cruel smile.

A faint ripple of unrest passed through the crowd, followed immediately by silence as stagnant as dead water.

No one spoke. They silently walked over, took black metal wristbands from the crate, and fastened them around their wrists.

The wristbands were heavy. When they were put on, they clicked softly, and tiny metal spikes on the inside pierced the skin, completing the binding and vital-sign monitoring.

Lin Ming was the last. He picked up a wristband, its touch icy cold.

The instant he put it on, a faint prick of pain shot through him. Then the wristband's screen lit up with a dim glow, displaying a line of small text:

[Number: 731. Merit: 0. Status: Awaiting orders.]

"Weapons are over there." Zhao Tie pointed toward an open storeroom door along the passageway. Inside lay heaps of old, damaged weapons, some even stained with dark red smears.

"Pick whatever suits your hand. Anyway..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the "recruits."

"Anyway, there isn't much difference for you. Kill one more if you can. Live one more second if you can."

His words were nakedly cruel, but no one argued. This was reality.

Death Squad, cannon-fodder camp, a dead end where the mortality rate exceeded ninety percent—once they came here, their lives no longer belonged to them.

The crowd silently headed toward the armory.

Lin Ming entered and swept his eyes across the weapons: war blades with curled edges, chipped axes, old rifles with bent barrels... In the end, his gaze settled on a corner.

Several long spears leaned there at an angle.

Their shafts were made of dark alloy, with paint peeling away in places to reveal the cold metal beneath. The spearheads, however, had been sharpened to a snowy gleam, casting a ghostly light in the dimness.

He walked over and gripped one of the spears.

It was icy and heavy in his hand. It was roughly 2.2 meters long, more than a head taller than him.

The shaft was as thick as an adult man's wrist. Neither metal nor wood, its material was unknown, but its resilience was exceptional. With a light shake, the spear gave a low hum, and its tip carved a bleak arc through the air.

This was the one.

The spear was the king of all weapons. An inch longer, an inch stronger. Against large, hard-charging Mutated Beasts in open terrain, the Thrust and reach advantage of a spear were far more effective than short weapons.

"Kid, picking a spear?"

A hoarse voice sounded beside him.

Lin Ming turned around. It was a veteran in his forties, his face covered in stubble and a scar at the corner of one eye. He held a well-maintained standard-issue war blade and leaned against the wall as he watched Lin Ming.

Unlike the viciousness or numbness in everyone else's eyes, the veteran's gaze carried a trace of... complicated pity?

"Yeah." Lin Ming nodded and continued examining the spear in his hand. The shaft had no cracks, the spearhead was firmly attached, and its balance was good. It was a fine spear, though a little old.

"There aren't many skilled spear users." The veteran stepped closer and lowered his voice.

"This thing is easy to learn but hard to master. Without several years of bitter training, you can't even get the stance right. You don't look that old. What did you do to get thrown into this hellhole?"

Lin Ming's hands paused for a moment before returning to calm. "Stealing gene medicine."

"Gene medicine?" The veteran froze, looking him up and down. "You? Soft skin and tender flesh, like some student kid, and you stole that stuff?"

Lin Ming did not answer. He merely wiped the spearhead with a rag. Being falsely accused and sent here was hardly something glorious.

Seeing his expression, the veteran sighed and lowered his voice even further.

"Whether it's true or not, once you're here, forget what came before. Remember this—when the horn blows, charge with the main force, but don't rush to the very front, and don't lag behind at the very end. If you see a Mutated Beast above the First Realm, avoid it if you can. Staying alive matters most. People like us... heh, every day we live is a day earned."

As he spoke, he patted Lin Ming on the shoulder, then turned and walked away.

Lin Ming watched his retreating back, then looked at the other recruits in the armory—either numb or hiding fear deep in their eyes—and silently finished wiping the spear.

Just then.

Wooooo!!!

A shrill, piercing horn suddenly tore through the deathly silence of the underground space!

That sound seemed steeped in rust and blood, instantly stabbing into everyone's eardrums!

"Enemy attack!! All personnel assemble! To the barricades! Move!!!"

Zhao Tie's roar exploded almost the moment the horn sounded. The scar on his face twisted with agitation, and his eyes blazed with naked, beastlike ferocity.

"Damn it! They're here again!"

"It's only been a few hours since things settled down?!"

"Fuck! I haven't even had lunch yet!"

The armory instantly erupted into chaos! Curses, swearing, clashing weapons, and hurried footsteps mixed together.

The recruits who had just been wearing numb expressions were now covered in fear and despair, yet their bodies moved as though wound by springs. Instinctively, they seized their weapons and bolted outside.

Lin Ming tightened his grip on the spear and rushed out with the crowd.

At the end of the passageway stood a steep steel staircase leading upward. The crowd packed together as they climbed, while the air filled with sweat, fear, and a near-maddened agitation.

Dull roars, explosions, and... inhuman howls filled with bloodthirsty desire came from overhead!

As he burst out of the stairwell, the blinding daylight made Lin Ming narrow his eyes.

Beyond the barricades, hundreds of enormous monsters covered in dark brown armor-like hide, their tusks jutting outward, were roaring as they charged toward the walls!

Their eyes were crimson, foul white vapor poured from their mouths and nostrils, and their hooves and claws tore at the ground, throwing up showers of dirt and shattered stone!

Mutated Boars! Their strength generally ranged between the First Realm and the Second Realm! Thick-skinned and powerful, with terrifying charging force!