Volume 4: Super-Tier Awakening & The Ancient Capital Calamity
Chapter 350
Team Selection: The Elite Strike Force
Beneath the yellowish floodlights of the South Gate military depot, cold gusts sweeping in from the desolate badlands carried the brackish bite of dust and the distinct, cloying stench of death drifting from the distant Imperial Mausoleum. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the harsh crunch of combat boots on cracked concrete and the whining cooling fans of mana detection devices operating at maximum capacity beside heavy armored transport vehicles.
Lin Feng stood straight before a three-dimensional holographic terrain sandbox floating mid-air. The faint blue glow of the magic interface illuminated his resolute, angular features and eyes as sharp as a butcher’s blade. Tonight, the covert raid into the Imperial Mausoleum was no longer a mere hypothesis or a plan on paper; it was a dagger thrust straight into the enemy’s heart.
He slowly swept his gaze across the four figures standing at attention before him. This was not a sprawling army of thousands of ragtag mages prone to battlefield chaos; it was a meticulously curated unit meeting the most stringent standards, each member possessing specialized abilities capable of turning the tide in the most desperate situations.
“Time is running out. The covert raid on the Imperial Mausoleum has been approved by the supreme strategic council. I need your final confirmation. This is a one-way road—the death aura below is potent enough to corrode the mind of any Advanced Mage if not approached with extreme caution,” Lin Feng spoke in a low, resonant voice that echoed through the open expanse of the depot.
Stepping forward first was Mu Ningxue. She wore an exquisite Ice-element combat armor that clung to her graceful curves while radiating an imposing, unassailable majesty. The dark azure bow on her back, the Ice Crystal Slaughter Bow, rested quietly, emitting faint wisps of freezing intent that crystallized into tiny ice particles fluttering to the ground. Her breathtakingly delicate face bore not a ripple of fear—only steadfast determination and a serene smile when her eyes met Lin Feng’s.
“I’ve already said it: wherever you go, I go,” Mu Ningxue said, her voice clear yet carrying the crushing weight of millennial frost. “My glacial ice will be your vanguard, sweeping away every obstacle and blocking skeleton in the deepest chambers.”
Lin Feng nodded slightly, warmth blooming in his chest amidst the biting cold of the desert night. The bond forged between them through life-and-death trials had long surpassed ordinary comradeship; it was the absolute entrustment of one’s life to another.
Right beside Mu Ningxue, Tang Yue stood like a shadow in pitch-black form-fitting tactical gear. Haunting twin daggers laced with lethal venom were crossed at her waist, her gaze as sharp as a predator hunting in the dark.
“The Judgment Court owes the people of Bo City and the Ancient Capital this debt,” Tang Yue sneered, her smile laced with murderous intent yet absolute resolve. “Those stray dogs of the Black Vatican think that crawling a thousand meters underground lets them escape judgment? I’m in charge of reconnaissance, tracking their trails, and eliminating every last one of them before they even know what hit them.”
Tang Yue’s presence guaranteed the unit an invisible pair of eyes and ears in the darkness where ordinary magic could not reach. She was the most seasoned assassination and investigation expert the Judgment Court had ever produced.
Next came Xie Zhaoyuan, who was busy inspecting a battery of defensive gear strapped to his body. He wore three storage rings gleaming with magical radiance, stuffed to the brim with high-grade magic tools, recovery potions, and scrolls for emergency defensive arrays. Hearing his name called, Xie Zhaoyuan raised his head and let out a hearty laugh cutting through the dark night.
“Ha ha, don’t look at me with those skeptical eyes! My cultivation might not match our two great beauties or Captain Lin, but when it comes to resources, gear, and sheer stubbornness, I’ll take on any challenger,” Xie Zhaoyuan patted his chest with a heavy thud, his armor clinking merrily. “Wealth and fame mean nothing compared to making history alongside my brothers! Besides, I want to see if the monsters in that tomb dare go toe-to-toe with the armor-piercing talismans I’ve painstakingly crafted!”
Xie Zhaoyuan’s inclusion brought pragmatic energy and logistics prepared down to the finest detail. Without him, sustaining mana consumption during a prolonged subterranean campaign would have been an insurmountable nightmare.
The fourth member emerged from the shadowy corner of the depot, where the musty scent of ancient scrolls lingered. It was Old Professor Zhang Yuanming. Despite his advanced years, white hair, and face etched with the lines of time, the eyes of this archaeology and geology professor burned with an eerie brilliance. He wore a dusty grey cloak and clutched a walking stick inlaid with a flowing water-jade core.
He was the only person alive today who knew the subterranean maps, ancient traps, and mechanisms of the Imperial Mausoleum by heart—secrets passed down through classified documents stored by the Ancient Magic Research Institute.
“You young folks have strength and courage, but down in those depths lie more than just magic beasts or the Black Vatican; there are lethal automatons and ancient arrays capable of turning a Forbidden Mage into ash in the blink of an eye,” Old Professor Zhang Yuanming said in a gravelly yet resolute voice. “I’ve dedicated my life to studying that ancient dynasty. I willingly offer my aged body to guide you, leading you along the shortest and safest path to the heart of the tomb.”
Lin Feng stepped forward, bowing respectfully to grasp the old professor’s gnarled hand. “I leave it to you, Elder Zhang. Your presence is the key to preventing us from being buried in a thousand-year labyrinth.”
Meanwhile, in another corner of the depot, Zhang Hu (Fatty Hu) was clutching a newly calibrated heavy magic cannon, his round face slick with sweat but betraying a clear look of grievance and discontent. He looked at Lin Feng with a pleading gaze: “Captain, why am I staying on the surface? I can fight too! My firepower is enough to blow up a squad of skeleton generals!”
Lin Feng strode over, slapping Fatty Hu’s thick shoulder heavily, and spoke in a stern voice: “Zhang Hu, the mission on the surface is a thousand times more important than the one below. The South Gate is the throat of our position. If we go down and the Black Vatican launches a rear ambush or the undead legion surges up from the side tunnels, our entire retreat route will be cut off. You’re staying behind not because you’re weak, but because I have absolute trust in your defensive command and fire support capabilities. Hold this gate until we return.”
Hearing this, Zhang Hu took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he suppressed his disappointment at not fighting shoulder-to-shoulder in the deep tunnels. Then he clenched his fists and nodded forcefully: “Captain, rest assured! As long as Zhang Hu draws breath, not a single mosquito from the Black Vatican crosses this South Gate! If I lose the rear, you can take my head for stew!”
“Good. No more idle talk. Now, everyone, check your equipment one last time,” Lin Feng ordered.
The surrounding atmosphere abruptly tightened. The metallic clinks and safety clicks of magic tools rang out rhythmically.
Xie Zhaoyuan handed each person a vial of pale green anti-toxin mana powder: “This solution is refined from extreme northern yang-aligned herbs. Smearing this on your skin and gas masks will completely block heavy miasma and death aura in the deep layers of the Imperial Mausoleum’s frigid depths. Don’t any of you forget.”
Next, he passed out cicada-wing-thin deep-communication rune shards inscribed with intricate magic lines: “These runes connect directly to the central mana stone I’m holding. Even separated by thousands of meters of rock or ancient seals, we can communicate within a fifty-kilometer radius. If anyone runs into an unexpected situation, activate it immediately.”
Tang Yue checked her twin daggers, the razor-sharp blades flashing with deadly toxic green light. Nodding with satisfaction, she tucked them into the concealed leather sheath beneath her cloak. Mu Ningxue gently spun the bow on her back as specks of freezing light gathered and dissolved into the air, ready for catastrophic long-range burst damage.
Old Professor Zhang Yuanming carefully stowed the ancient sheepskin map scroll into a watertight bronze tube, slinging it across his chest before leaning on his cane and stepping beside the armored vehicle.
Five individuals with five distinct fates and completely different specialties, yet tightly bound by shared ideals and extraordinary courage, were now fully assembled. They donned pitch-black cloaks embroidered with hidden anti-death aura patterns, blending into the enveloping darkness of the desolate outskirts.
Before them sat a specialized combat armored vehicle reinforced with titanium alloy combined with shock-absorbing and undead-repelling magic arrays. The large caterpillar treads rumbled with a deep engine drone, preparing to roll straight toward the Abyss Ancient Well in the southwest suburbs—known as the bottomless abyss and the only doorway leading a thousand meters underground into the Ancient Emperor’s Mausoleum!
Lin Feng stepped onto the vehicle’s threshold, looking back one last time at the dim lights of the South Gate command post, where Fatty Hu and dozens of soldiers stood at stiff salute in the distance. He took a deep breath, feeling the freezing air flood his chest, carrying blood still boiling with battle intent.
“Move out!”
The brief yet ironclad command rang out. The armored vehicle’s heavy door slammed shut with a solid thud, completely cutting off exterior sounds. The bulky vehicle surged forward into the darkness, tearing through the thick mist and leaving deep tire tracks in the cold sand as it plunged straight into the gaping black earth waiting ahead.
Yet just as the vehicle vanished behind the desolate hills, the magic radar screen inside Xie Zhaoyuan’s vehicle suddenly emitted rapid, hair-raising beeps. Blood-red dots densely materialized around the coordinates of the Abyss Ancient Well, as if a trap had been laid, waiting for them to walk right into the net...