The wind carried dust across the broken stone wall as Zhou Jing stepped fully into the open. The bandits had already forced their way through the outer barrier, and one of them was dragging a sack of grain across the ground while another held a blade to a villager's throat. The settlement was small—no organized guards, no visible Supers—just ordinary people clinging to survival.
One of the bandits turned when he heard Zhou Jing's approaching footsteps. He squinted, measuring the newcomer from head to toe. "Another farmer?" he sneered. "Go back if you want to keep breathing."
Zhou Jing did not slow.
This Apostle body was not exceptional, but it was stable. Its breathing was steady, muscles responsive, senses sharp. He could feel its limits clearly—and that clarity gave him confidence.
Behind his vision, faint system text appeared.
[External Conflict Confirmed]
[Combat Data Collection: Active]
The nearest bandit lunged first, perhaps irritated by Zhou Jing's silence. The blade cut through the air in a crude horizontal arc aimed at his midsection.
Zhou Jing stepped inward rather than back.
The motion surprised the attacker. Zhou Jing's forearm deflected the blade just enough to redirect its path, pain flaring briefly as metal scraped skin. He ignored it. His other hand drove forward, palm striking the bandit's chin. The man staggered, balance broken. Zhou Jing followed with a sharp knee to the abdomen.
The bandit collapsed into the dust.
The second attacker shoved the villager aside and rushed forward with a roar. This one was heavier, movements more forceful but slower. Zhou Jing adjusted instinctively, circling rather than meeting him head-on. The Apostle's legs felt solid beneath him—stronger than his original body by a noticeable margin.
The blade descended in a vertical chop.
Zhou Jing pivoted, the weapon slicing past his shoulder. He stepped inside the bandit's guard and drove his elbow into the man's ribs. A crack echoed faintly. The attacker gasped, and Zhou Jing finished the exchange with a kick to the knee joint.
The man fell hard, weapon slipping from numb fingers.
The third bandit, who had been holding the sack of grain, froze. His eyes darted between his fallen companions and the calm figure standing before him.
"You—what are you?" he stammered.
Zhou Jing's voice, when he finally spoke, was even. "Leave."
The man did not hesitate further. He abandoned the sack and ran.
Silence settled over the broken wall.
The villagers stared.
One of them, an older man with weathered skin and cautious eyes, stepped forward slowly. "You… you're not from here," he said.
Zhou Jing glanced at the settlement—the patched walls, the crude watch platform, the fearful faces. No organized power structure. No clear authority. Just people enduring.
He turned his gaze inward instead.
The system interface unfolded again.
[Initial Conflict Resolved]
[Outcome: Victory]
[Astral Points +12]
[Information State Particles +1 (Unstable)]
He absorbed the numbers without outward reaction.
Twelve Astral Points.
A beginning.
The villagers were still waiting for an answer.
Zhou Jing considered his next step carefully. An Apostle without identity would drift aimlessly. If he intended long-term growth here, this vessel required a foundation—history, reputation, presence.
He made a decision.
"My name," he said calmly, "is not important."
The older man blinked, confused.
Zhou Jing continued, voice steady but measured. "But I will remain in this settlement for a time."
A murmur rippled through the small crowd. Gratitude mixed with disbelief.
As their attention shifted, Zhou Jing's awareness turned inward once more.
[Apostle Designation: Unnamed]
[Recommendation: Assign Identity for Long-Term Influence Stabilization]
Of course.
An Apostle was not merely a puppet. It was a node within a realm. A named existence would anchor its influence more effectively.
Zhou Jing closed his eyes briefly, considering.
This was his first step into infinite worlds. The foundation of everything that followed.
When he reopened them, his mind was clear.
"A name," he murmured internally.
The system responded.
[Please Confirm Apostle Designation]
He did not choose something flamboyant. Not yet. Legends were earned, not declared.
"Zhou Yuan," he thought.
Yuan—origin.
[Apostle Designation Confirmed: Zhou Yuan]
[Identity Anchor Established]
[Influence Stability Increased]
A subtle shift occurred.
It was intangible but undeniable. The realm now recognized the Apostle as an individual presence rather than a wandering anomaly. The thread connecting him to this world tightened slightly, becoming more defined.
The older villager bowed awkwardly. "Sir Zhou Yuan… thank you."
So it begins, Zhou Jing thought.
He glanced once more at the fallen bandits, ensuring they were no longer threats. His arm stung where the blade had grazed him, but the wound was shallow. Pain here felt real—unfiltered by the protections of the Main World.
He welcomed it.
Pain meant authenticity.
Behind his vision, another line appeared:
[Time Flow Notice: 3 Hours Elapsed in Astral Realm]
[Main Body Status: Stable — 7 Minutes Passed]
Zhou Jing's gaze sharpened slightly.
So the ratio was roughly twenty-five to one.
Efficient.
He turned back toward the settlement, stepping through the broken wall with unhurried confidence. The villagers parted instinctively, their eyes following him with a mixture of gratitude and cautious awe.
He was not their savior.
Not yet.
He was simply stronger than the threat that had arrived today.
But strength, even modest strength, was currency in this world.
And Zhou Yuan—his first Apostle—had just begun accumulating it.