Yan Qingwen walked toward the group of subjects.

The steel puppet followed close behind him, step by step.

The closer he got, the more terrified they became. At about ten meters away, they lost control and screamed: “Don’t come any closer!!!”

Yan Qingwen stopped and studied them with a frown.

The fear on their faces looked genuine — but what exactly were they afraid of?

“If you want to win, go win! We won’t get in your way! The sensor’s right over there!” One of the middle-aged men shouted. “Just don’t come near us! Don’t come near us!”

Yan Qingwen turned his head and looked at the nearby sensor.

One light touch was all it would take to change the ownership status and add to their territory count.

But…

What was going on with these people?

Yan Qingwen stood where he was, without moving any closer, and asked: “Where is your king?”

“We don’t know! He left us here and went away!” A woman in the group called out at the top of her voice. “We don’t know anything! Don’t come near us!”

Yan Qingwen frowned and asked, “What are you afraid of?”

They stared blankly at him, faces drained of color.

Yan Qingwen noticed that among the group, there wasn’t only middle-aged people and women — there were also elderly individuals.

This was clearly not a combat unit. It looked more like a group hastily cobbled together.

He even found himself wondering — had these people volunteered to participate?

He asked with genuine confusion: “Why were you recruited as subjects?”

“We… we don’t know either…” The middle-aged man said haltingly. “When we came to, we were already his subjects… Anyway, we won’t stop you from winning. You — you just don’t hurt us…”

Yan Qingwen said, “I can agree not to hurt you, but you should spread out a little so I can clearly see whether any of you are carrying dangerous objects or items, or concealing the king’s whereabouts.”

The group across from him showed reluctance.

The nine people stayed pressed together, showing no intention of moving apart.

“We… we can’t move apart…” The middle-aged man lowered his head, avoiding Yan Qingwen’s eyes.

The woman beside him offered a nervous explanation: “The king forbade us from separating. Please just leave — don’t come back!”

Yan Qingwen found the whole thing deeply suspicious. Their hands and feet weren’t bound, and they weren’t in any kind of cage. So why were they anchored to that one spot, completely motionless?

Something was wrong here. He didn’t want to make a decision on his own, so he turned to head back and consult with Du Lai.

As he turned, the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of those people suddenly widening their eyes in absolute terror.

Yan Qingwen froze. He followed their gaze —

At the boundary line, a figure had appeared —

Not the tall, broad frame typical of foreign men, but a lean build. White shirt, black trousers. Refined-looking. The kind of young office worker you’d see anywhere in an office building — ordinary-looking, yet utterly out of place in this scene.

“He… he came back…”

“No… no…”

The nine subjects finally stirred, murmuring as they desperately wanted to flee — yet their feet shuffled and hesitated, afraid to make any sudden move.

Yan Qingwen looked at the distant figure, then back at the people behind him, whose faces were etched with fear and pain. Countless thoughts flashed through his mind, and suddenly, a terrible premonition rose in his chest.

The moment those nine subjects laid eyes on their king, they erupted into wailing cries. Their skin turned from pale to red. Their bodies began to swell.

Yan Qingwen’s heart lurched. He spun around and screamed at Du Lai’s group: “RUN!!!”

— BOOM!!!

The thunderous blast struck simultaneously as everyone scattered in all directions!

The violent shockwave radiated outward, carrying the pungent, suffocating stench of blood! A rain of gore — overwhelming — blanketing everything!

The steel puppet had absorbed the brunt of the impact for Yan Qingwen, and it crashed to the ground in a heap. Yan Qingwen pushed himself upright and looked back — the nine subjects were gone. In their place was nothing but a mist of crimson.

There was no time to process his emotions. He pointed at the figure by the boundary line and bellowed:

“CATCH HIM!!!”

—