Stronger with More Jobs

Core area of the City of Injustice, headquarters of the Celestial Punishment Association, at the deepest underground level.

A dim oil lamp flickers.

Casting the giant shadow of a cross on the smooth, cold black stone wall, twisted and ominous.

Chen Wudi’s withered body is tightly bound by several chains, with disheveled hair covering his face, his breath as weak as a candle in the wind, his remaining bit of vitality seemingly ready to extinguish at any moment.

The figure in the crimson robe stands silently beneath the cross, like an eternal sculpture.

The hood is hanging low, arms crossed in front of the chest.

Seemingly engaged in a silent prayer.

In the deathly still space, only the faint crackle of the burning oil lamp and Chen Wudi’s barely audible, painfully weak breathing can be heard.

Suddenly.

The thick shadow beside the cross writhes like a living creature.

A figure shrouded entirely in darkness emerges silently from the abyss, appearing beside the Crimson Robe Leader.

"Leader." The black figure’s voice is dry and raspy, like sandpaper scraping, "Everyone has been controlled, should they be gathered under the Son’s seat?"

The Crimson Robe Leader’s posture of prayer remains unchanged.

After a long pause.

A completely calm voice, without a hint of emotion, slowly emanates from beneath the hood, indifferent:

"No."

The black figure’s body seems to stiffen slightly, imperceptibly.

The Crimson Robe Leader slowly raises his head, the shadow beneath the hood focusing on Chen Wudi’s withered body.

The corner of his mouth barely forms a subtle, unnoticeable curve.

"Release them all," the Crimson Robe Leader’s voice remains flat, yet carries an undeniable will, "Only leave the necessary guards. Tier Two, Tier Three."

The black figure instantly comprehends, lowering his head further: "Yes, Leader!"

As the words fall, the black figure disappears silently like ink merging into the ground, as if it had never appeared.

Deathly silence once again envelops this cold underground space.

The Crimson Robe Leader’s gaze remains firmly locked on the cross.

He moves slightly, as if an invisible step is lifting him, slowly rising until he’s at eye level with Chen Wudi’s distorted face covered by disheveled hair.

The dim light from the oil lamp outlines the hollow contours of Chen Wudi’s cheeks, his cracked lips barely moving, each weak breath pulling a profound pain from deep within.

The Crimson Robe Leader quietly gazes.

The eyes beneath the shadow of the hood become extremely complex.

There is anticipation, an almost religious piety.

But deeper within, there stirs a hint of heartache...

"Almost... it’s almost time..."

He extends his hand, covered by the crimson robe sleeve, seemingly to touch Chen Wudi’s cheek, yet pauses just short of it.

Fingertips tremble slightly.

Finally, the hand retracts slowly, crossing again in front of his chest.

A murmured sigh, carrying a sense of lament, softly echoes through the still space:

"You... have suffered..."

...

Gray Rock District, villa headquarters of the Cyan Dragon Gang.

Brightly lit living room, yet the atmosphere carries a kind of oppressive anticipation.

Jiang Wei sits quietly on the main sofa, holding a cup of cold water, her ruby-clear eyes fixed unblinkingly on the direction leading to the underground cultivation chamber.

Qi Hao paces restlessly around the living room.

Occasionally glancing at the closed door.

Time passes, second by second.

Suddenly!

Bzzz—!

An invisible wave, like a stone cast into a calm lake, suddenly expands from deep underground, swiftly sweeping across the living room.

This wave carries a unique rhythm of a life-level leap.

Jiang Wei’s fingers tremble slightly as they hold the cup.

Qi Hao stops abruptly, looking towards the underground entrance with delight: "Is this...?"

Almost in the next second after the wave passes.

Click.

The alloy door to the underground cultivation chamber emits a light sound, sliding open inwardly.

A cold figure steps out slowly.

None other than Wei Banmeng.

The aura around her is completely different from before.

The previously restrained sharpness now emerges like a peerless divine weapon, her presence filled with an invisible aura, the air around her seems to be cut and emits a subtle whimper.

Her eyes are bright and deep.

Her gestures carry a kind of calm control of power.

Though she deliberately withdraws her pressure.

But that distinctive temperament of the Martial Saint has already formed.

Her gaze sweeps across the living room, landing on Jiang Wei, a relieved yet confident smile appearing on her face, voice clear and melodious:

"I didn’t let you down, did I?"

Jiang Wei’s eyes also flash a hint of joy, softly shaking her head.

Wei Banmeng’s successful breakthrough was like igniting a fuse.

In the following time, the door to the underground cultivation chamber begins to open at a certain frequency.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

Wave after wave, varying in strength, yet all indicative of life-level breakthrough, continuously surging through the heavy barrier, resonating in the living room.

With each wave comes the sound of the cultivation chamber quietly sliding open.

And a figure whose aura has surged emerges with surprise and confidence.

"Hahaha! I did it too!"

Chu Kuanglan strides out with tiger-like steps, the gleam in his eyes like lantern-size copper bells, his qi blood like a furnace, radiating a scorching presence, the overwhelming power of Tier Three Martial Saint approaching fiercely.

Others also emerge one after another from the cultivation chamber.

Each person’s face carries a joyous expression.

Meaning, in less than two days, everyone has completed the task Fang Qingyu assigned to them.

Though Old Qin and the others.

Despite the joy of their breakthroughs displayed on their faces.

There is a barely noticeable regret deep within their eyes.

Although they successfully ascended to Tier Two, with significant power increase.