Chosen: Beyond Fate

On the third floor, on the outer wall beyond the collapsed wing, someone could be heard breathing heavily.

An Ran stood on the exterior wall of the villa as if gravity did not exist, gasping frantically. He looked up in the distance, but sweat trickled down his forehead into his eyes, stinging sharply and blurring his vision.

On the surface of the pond stood a figure, and scattered all around it were countless pieces of scrap metal. All of them had been either shattered and twisted out of shape, or held in that eerie figure’s hands as he examined them closely.

Wolf Pot[1], Dragon Head[2], Leaning Pole[3], Horizontal Pot[4]... He had used every technique he was proficient in, yet he could not inflict even the slightest damage on his opponent. Instead, he was already close to exhaustion.

In just a moment of distraction, a chilling sense of danger crawled up his spine. He twisted in place sharply, and a blood-red crystalline arrow brushed past his temple and nailed itself into the wall, piercing through three layers before shooting into the night sky and vanishing without a trace.

“Is that all?” The White Deer Chosen One known as Slaughterblood let out a soft sigh, crushing the piece of iron in his hand into powder with a disappointed expression. “Such a pity. I finally ran into a White Deer hunter, but it turns out you’re just a discarded one, cast out from your clan. What a wasted trip.”

Snap.

Blood-red light shot out from his fingertips like a storm, carving deep scars across the wall as he relentlessly pursued the boy’s figure like a parasite that refused to give up.

Metal fragments and blood crystals clashed in the darkness, tracing countless intricate trajectories before either annihilating each other or leaving shallow cuts across An Ran’s cheeks and arms.

“So boring. So boring.” Slaughterblood waved his hand in anger, snapping his fingers repeatedly and striking the boy down to the ground. “Go all out, White Deer hunter! Faster, faster! Or just die already!”

Boom!

An explosion tore through the air as crimson crystals shot out in every direction. At the center of it all lay destruction.

The boy’s voice finally came from afar. “Alright.”

Stiffly, Slaughterblood lowered his head, only to realize a hole had appeared in his palm. A faint streak of light had shot out from the boy’s hand, breaking through his Blood Hunt like a spear and piercing straight through his palm without losing momentum.

The boy was fast, so fast that Slaughterblood hadn’t even registered it. Only now did the pain of being torn apart, the bone-chilling fear, and even a long-lost excitement and frenzy finally register within him.

“This is...” Lost in intoxicated delight, Slaughterblood licked his own blood greedily, savoring the lingering aura of slaughter within it.

Meanwhile, not far away at the edge of the pond, An Ran lowered his head and carefully removed the auxiliary prosthetic on his leg. Noticing the scratches on it, he frowned slightly in dissatisfaction before solemnly placing it on a clean stone.

He looked toward the villa shrouded in darkness in the distance and said softly, “It seems the situation at Ji Jue’s side isn't urgent. Then I’ll play with you for a bit.”

And with that, he stepped forward toward the pond ahead.

Ripples rose and spread outward. Gentle waves of water lifted the boy’s figure as he took one step, then a second, then a third.

After those three steps, the frailty and lightness that had once lingered around him vanished completely. In their place emerged a solemn, savage presence overflowing from his very soul.

“Pay your respects to White Deer, sir.” He raised his palm and shook off the ashes on the metal shard at his fingertips. “These are the claws and teeth granted by the Supreme Benevolence.”

At the edge of the shard, a single streak of flowing light flickered before vanishing in a split second. It was dazzling and brilliant, yet fleeting. It drove Slaughterblood into a state of trembling ecstasy, his whole body shaking as though on the verge of madness.

“The Flying Edge Light...”

He widened his eyes, baring his teeth in silent laughter. Across the water, he locked eyes with the boy. Both of them straightened, placed a hand over their chests, and gave a slight bow, looking solemn and utterly serious.

From their mouths came words of sincere devotion.

“With this hunt, we offer tribute to White Deer!”

May the clash between hunter and prey be presented before the celestial gaze of the White Deer. This is a sacred hunt, and we shall fight until only one remains alive.

***

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! It’s bad! It’s bad! It’s bad!”

In the shattered main hall, among piles of corpses, the six-armed Swarm-type mercenary was drenched in sweat and smeared with blood.

“Where’s the backup?! Where the hell is the backup?!”

It had already been over ten minutes since the fight began!

One Ruins-type, three White Deer-type, one Entropy-type, one Heart Core-type—he had already killed six Chosen Ones, but the enemies only kept multiplying. He cut down the living, but more undead came. He cut down the dead, then even more living showed up again!

But where was the backup? Where the hell did the backup go?!

How did it suddenly feel like all his teammates had disconnected and he was forced into single-player mode while fighting a boss with double HP?! Was this some kind of damn game?! Or what, some workplace bullying? Was he being isolated and pushed out? That couldn’t be it, right?

So what if he ate a bit more, drank a bit more, and took bigger shits? He worked more too! As his thoughts turned chaotic, he was so furious he was almost in tears.

Yet his six arms still moved in a storm of violence, blades and sabers intersecting as he hacked apart another opponent crawling up from the ground behind him, turning it into a pile of shattered flesh.

Battle frenzy, blood surge, preemptive strike—among his six Swarm blessings, each had undergone at least two qualitative evolutions on average. His Blood Surge in particular had evolved three times, allowing him to overclock his own spirit output until death. And yet, he was already close to dying.

A cold, sinister laughter rang out from both in front and behind him. Identical voices echoed among the severed limbs and shattered corpses. Two men with exactly the same face drifted like phantoms through the sea of blood, probing for his weaknesses and openings.

Just moments ago, in a brief crossing pass, Tom had earned a deep, bone-exposing gash on his back.

“Fuck you, Cannibal Brothers!” he screamed, furious. “Why is it you two damn unlucky bastards again?! Will this ever end?!”

“Oh hey Jerry, old buddy, long time no see. You’re not doing too well, huh?” the older twin grinned. “Even thousands of miles apart, destiny still ties us together.”

“Hm? Isn’t he named Smith?” the younger twin mocked with a grin.

The elder replied, “Last time I think he was called Wang Qiang. What about this time? What are you called now? I heard the radio calling you Tom. We’ve known each other so long, but you’ve never once told us your real name.”

The younger twin sneered. “That’s not good, you know. We’re all old friends. Even if you die, we’ll at least carve a tombstone for you. But if your names keep changing, I’m afraid we won’t even be able to fit it on.”

the elder twin waved his hand. “No worries, no need for a tombstone. We’ll just eat him and remember his name in our hearts.”

“Fuck you two rotten-ass freaks, I’m never dying before you do!” Tom retorted loudly, but he was internally crying without stopping.

Chen Xingzhou! This time I’ve really paid the price! I fucking knew it. Not a single cent I earned from your damn house was ever clean money. You damn bastard, if you wanna die, fine, go ahead and die, but why drag me down with you?!

A chill ran up his spine as killing intent crashed toward him head-on. The two figures suddenly vanished from their original positions like ghosts. In the blink of an eye, the brothers struck in perfect coordination with short blades, attacking from two different angles at once with unbelievable speed.

Even compared to Tom’s six-armed coordinated assault, they did not fall behind in the slightest. When they crossed, one blade pierced the heart, the other the throat. It was not a fatal blow.

Tom drove his sword edge and broken blade into those two drooling faces. Blood burst as they died... or at least, that was how it should have been.

The ground was already littered with corpses.

The twins used the matrix known as Myriad Shadows. The Supreme Benevolence inheritance it bore pointed directly to White Deer, and its ability was horrifying—it could create clones!

Two identical faces appeared again in front of Tom, even their smiles unchanged. Those two faces became four, then six. As the mocking laughter echoed endlessly, the corpses falling in the blood pool turned into ash, while the clones seemed never-ending. Like a deep sea, they slowly swallowed him whole until Tom finally couldn’t stand the mental strain any longer and screamed, “Fourth Great-Uncle, save me!”

An aged face emerged from his neck. A pale white beard fluttered in the wind, and murky eyes opened.

“What is it? Oh, work, huh.” Fourth Great-Uncle[5] glanced at the surrounding scene without the slightest change in expression. “Where’s the money?”

Tom gritted his teeth and pulled a gold coin from his pocket, tossing it over.

The gold coin fell, only to be caught by a wrinkled, age-spotted palm that extended from his back. After weighing it slightly, his Fourth Great-Uncle immediately looked disappointed.

“A fake?”

“It’s good enough!” Tom shouted. “What era do you think this is? Modern people use paper money now, damn it. Do you accept cryptocurrency?!”

This old geezer was such a pain in the ass. It was one thing for him to demand payment every time he came out to work, but the bastard would only accept gold coins from the Eternal Empire era!

Where the hell was he supposed to get those on the market? Even though they were still around, the price had gone insane. So he had no choice but to forge them. At this point, he was already more familiar with carving that damn emperor’s face than writing his own name.

Fourth Great-Uncle sighed and clicked his tongue. “Each generation’s worse than the last. Nobody follows the rules anymore...”

Another face emerged from the other side of Tom’s neck, interrupting casually. “Exactly. How disgraceful. At this rate, the Tang family is going to be finished sooner or later.”

A teasing grin appeared from a wound on the side of Tom’s face. “Why not hire me instead, Qian? I take Fedra too. I’ll finish this fight for you. I charge just nine million.”

Fourth Great-Uncle scowled. “Shut up, Seven. Stop spouting nonsense! You think you can steal my job? Work if you can, scram if you can’t!”

1. “Wolf Pot” refers mainly to a high-difficulty technique used in the ancient pitch-pot (hurling pot game) drinking game at banquets. It is also the name of a fictional legendary cooking utensil from the anime Cooking Master Boy (Zhonghua Xiaodangjia). ☜

2. “Dragon Head” is a technical term in the traditional pitch-pot (touhu) game. It refers to a result where, after the arrow is thrown into the pot, the shaft rests against the rim or neck of the pot, and the arrowhead is pointing back toward the thrower. ☜

3. “Leaning Pole” (also written as “Leaning Rod”) refers to an advanced, high-difficulty technique in the traditional pitch-pot (touhu) game. It describes a throw where the front half of the arrow enters the pot, while the back half leans against the rim or handle instead of falling all the way to the bottom. In ancient scoring systems, points varied depending on the arrow’s orientation and the exact point of contact (such as “dragon head,” “dragon tail,” etc.), and a successful “leaning” shot could earn a high score of 15 to 18 units. ☜

4. “Horizontal Pot” refers to a special throwing posture and scoring condition in the ancient Chinese pitch-pot (touhu) game, where the arrow lies horizontally across the mouth of the pot without actually falling inside. ☜

5. “Great-uncle” (also called “granduncle” or “great granduncle”) refers to one’s grandfather’s younger brother, that is, the younger brother of your father’s father. ☜