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Randomly fallen Shelter, scattered and nailed to the vast wilderness.

No one can choose where they land. The moment they land, their dwelling place, their range of activity, and their boundaries of survival are all locked by the rules of the Plane.

In just one or two days, the resources around the Shelter were quickly depleted. The surrounding land was thoroughly searched, and all the collectable vegetation, scavengable materials, and wild debris that could barely feed the animals were completely exhausted.

As the population grows larger, existing resources only decrease and do not increase.

Staying put only leads to stagnation and waiting for death.

Those who can leave are leaving.

Groups of people can be seen everywhere at the junction of the Withered Reed Plain, the Misty Forest, and the rocky hills and swamps.

The survivors who have survived to this point all possess weapons obtained from Plane treasure chests, with varying grades. Most have Black Iron -grade weapons, while a few who were luckier or found higher-tier treasure chests earlier possess Bronze Tier weapons. These weapons are of mixed shapes and sizes, lacking uniformity and clearly not hand-forged.

Someone was carrying a heavy, dull, Black Iron logging axe with dents and scratches all over its blade, only suitable for brute force to chop and break skin.

Someone was holding Black Iron iron spear that had been opened from a treasure chest. Its iron head was hard and it was specifically used to block and repel attacks.

A few people in the group carried Bronze longbows, the bows of which were far more resilient than ordinary ones, and when paired with matching iron arrows, their ranged attacks were significantly more powerful.

Some people had a Black Iron blade hanging from their waist, used for close-quarters slashing and finishing blows.

Others carried rough, solid Black Iron hammers with no fancy designs, relying solely on their weight to break bones and shatter armor; one of them held a short Bronze hammer with a denser head, producing a completely different impact force with each strike.

There was no unified formation, no unified command.

They were all low-level, casual individuals, temporarily gathered together.

Their eyes met, wariness lurking beneath the surface; there was no trust, no affection.

The only unspoken agreement is that going deep alone is certain death; only by sticking together can one even attempt to conquer those forbidden zones inhabited by wild beasts.

Deep in the wilderness, the roars of beasts echoed continuously.

Small-scale human-animal conflicts erupted in multiple locations across the surrounding area.

At the edge of the forest, the tip of Black Iron spear was firmly pressed against the body of a charging beast, and the dull thud of the iron blade piercing flesh rang out one after another.

The axe flashed, cleaving through the rough, hard animal hide, splattering warm blood and foam.

In the distance, from the forest, the Bronze longbow occasionally twanged, and iron arrows pierced the air, able to penetrate the thick fur of wild beasts and take down any roaming or patrolling creatures in advance.

The teamwork wasn't exactly sophisticated; they survived entirely by brute force using the unique properties of the weapons obtained from the treasure chests.

Long-range sentry duty, long pole blocking, heavy weapon penetration, short blade finishing off the enemy.

The edges of the beast domain that could be gnawed down were gradually eroded, cleared out, and occupied.

Those that couldn't break through the dense Beast Nest suffered heavy casualties and retreated in disarray.

If we win, we'll divide up the remaining supplies in the lair.

If you lose, bury your bones on the spot among the weeds, leaving no trace.

Once the fighting stops, greed and suspicion in people's hearts immediately overshadow the brief period of camaraderie.

Those carrying heavy weapons in the front row silently stared at the largest pile of supplies.

The men holding Bronze weapons instinctively stood further back, observing and wary of their companions.

The ranged attackers in the back row kept a close eye on the front row's gains.

No one spoke, but everyone was calculating the costs and benefits in their minds.

Whoever puts in more effort takes greater risks, whoever benefits most, and whoever takes advantage of the chaos. Those with higher-grade weapons also become targets secretly coveted by others.

In the apocalypse, hastily assembled teams are never truly stable.

The threat of wild animals is only temporary; the struggle between humans is forever intertwined with the struggle for survival.

The entire surrounding area has descended into chaos and turmoil.

The beast horde's territory was continuously invaded, torn apart, and devoured.

Wild populations that were originally divided into separate areas and did not invade each other began to stir up trouble Global Region.

The roars of beasts echoed through the forest, carrying ever-increasing distance.

The wild grass swayed, and the wind carried the tense atmosphere of a battle between living beings.

Everyone was caught in this endless battle for territory, resources, and a chance to survive.

Beyond this wave of Global Region chaos, there is a team whose path is completely opposite.

There were quite a few people, twenty or thirty, who gathered up the scattered survivors along the way.

The people at the very front of the group had particularly stubborn expressions.

Only a day or two had passed since they hastily retreated from that cliff valley deep in the Frost Forest.

The memories are frighteningly fresh; the invisible access restrictions at the valley entrance, and the two lives lost in that instant, have not faded in the slightest.

And the entire herd of beasts, their strange postures towards that valley.

Others dismissed it as a casual rumor, remaining skeptical.

But those who experienced it firsthand know in their hearts that the valley was the most unusual and special piece of land in the entire wilderness.

Along their journey, they did not participate in the battles in the outer beast realm.

With only his words, he led a group of desperate people, struggling to survive, straight into the depths.

As they walked for a while, some members of the group began to feel uneasy and hesitated in their steps.

The road ahead grew quieter and quieter.

The forest was deep and secluded, birds and beasts had vanished, and even the sounds of ordinary wild animals had completely disappeared.

Someone asked in a low voice, their tone tinged with panic:

"There's nothing inside. We've already taken all the territories on the outskirts, why would we go deep into the interior to die?"

The leader stopped and turned around.

His face held no grand pronouncements, only a stubborn conviction and the raw, unbridled savagery of someone from the lower classes.

He pointed to the outline of the cliff face that was faintly visible at the end of the dense forest, his voice rough, direct, and blatantly seductive.

"These outlying, rotten lands, you could spend your whole life fighting over them, only to end up fighting with wild beasts for scraps."

"That area inside is different."

"There are rules that prevent you from getting in; those who can't get in will die. But if you can break through that barrier, you'll never have to risk your lives in the wilderness again."

"Wild animals can't get in, and chaos won't affect us. It's safe, clean, and allows us to store resources, enabling us to establish ourselves long-term."

"Outside, everyone is still robbing the wasteland, fighting off beast tides, and scrambling for food."

"If we take over this place, it will be the best foothold in the entire area."

The language was rough, disorganized, and unplanned.

These are the most tempting and straightforward sweeteners in dire straits.

This group of wanderers who followed along the journey were people from the lowest rungs of society who had nowhere else to turn and were risking their lives to survive.

No one can resist that temptation.

The hesitant steps gradually steadied.

Everyone clutched the weapons they had obtained from the treasure chests; most were made of Black Iron, with a few scattered pieces of Bronze gleaming coldly through the gaps in the branches and leaves. Axes, spears, bows, hammers—all sorts of cold lights faintly shone in the deep forest.

Most of the people in the group didn't know that the leader of this group had only escaped from the valley entrance in a sorry state two days ago.

Those dangers that could take lives in an instant were deliberately suppressed and never mentioned.

In everyone's eyes, there was only a fertile land that was unclaimed, protected by rules, and absolutely stable.

The team set off again.

Driven mad by the desire to survive, a group of people, driven by greed to plunder fertile land, are relentlessly approaching the forbidden territory that belongs to Lu Heng.

The forest was deathly silent.

A storm is brewing.