Chapter Three: Thirty-Seven Players, One Sparring Session

Fifty-two seconds remained. The boss still had ninety-one percent health. A conventional clear required at least twenty minutes. “How much did those crests cost?” Lin Jin asked. “One hundred thousand each. Never seen one, pauper?” “Thank you.” “For what?” “For bringing me ten keys.” Lin Jin drove his wooden sword into an unremarkable white nerve beneath his feet. It was not a damage weakness but a pain-response node. The Time-Eater convulsed. Every stomach wall contracted, tearing the professional formation apart. The ten Deathless Crests detected lethal damage and opened their golden barriers one by one. Ten pillars of gold illuminated the stomach—and revealed a door buried deep in the flesh.