Night fell faster in this realm, or perhaps it only felt that way. Zhou Yuan stood atop the repaired section of the stone wall, scanning the dark plains. The villagers had insisted he stay in the guard tower for the night. Word had already spread: a wandering fighter had driven off the bandits. Too quickly. That was the problem. In worlds ruled by strength, small settlements did not survive by luck. If bandits came once, they would return. If they were beaten easily, they would bring someone stronger. Zhou Jing felt it clearly. Behind his vision, the system flickered quietly.
[Influence Ripple: Expanding]
[Probability of Escalated Conflict: Increased]
Zhou Jing's expression remained calm. Good. Conflict meant growth. But reckless conflict meant death. He sat cross-legged inside the crude wooden tower and accessed the deeper control layer. A subtle interface expanded.
[Apostle Management — Active]
[Direct Control: Engaged]
[Command Imprint: Available]
Zhou Jing's eyes sharpened. He could not remain in constant descent forever. Tomorrow in the Main World, he would board the transport ship. His physical body required attention. And if this realm's time moved faster, prolonged immersion might create psychological imbalance. He needed autonomy. But controlled autonomy. He began structuring commands carefully. Not robotic instructions—behavioral principles.
"First," Zhou Jing thought clearly, "prioritize survival over pride." The command anchored. "Second, avoid direct confrontation with unknown higher-level forces." Anchor confirmed. "Third, integrate into local power structures without revealing full strength." Anchor confirmed. "Fourth, train daily. Improve combat fundamentals." Anchor confirmed. "Fifth, gather information about this realm's power system." Anchor confirmed.
The Apostle Zhou Yuan did not stiffen or show outward change, but internally, a structure solidified—like bones forming within flesh.
[Command Imprint Completed]
[Autonomous Stability: 78%]
Zhou Jing exhaled softly. Good enough. He withdrew partial control. The sensation was strange. Instead of being the sole driver, he became an observer layered behind instinct. Zhou Yuan still moved naturally, still breathed, still scanned the horizon—but now those actions flowed without deliberate thought from the main consciousness. The Apostle had become… independent. Not conscious like a separate person. But capable.
Suddenly, a distant horn echoed across the plains, low and sharp. Not from the village. From beyond. Zhou Yuan stood immediately. Zhou Jing reasserted full control in an instant. His gaze locked onto the darkness. Multiple torches flickered in the distance. Not three. Not five. At least fifteen. The bandits had not fled in fear. They had retreated to report.
[Escalation Event Triggered]
[Minor Faction Identified: Black Wolf Band]
[Threat Assessment: Moderate]
Zhou Jing's heartbeat remained steady. This was faster than expected. Interesting. The villagers below began to panic as the approaching torches became visible. One of them shouted, "They brought reinforcements!" Zhou Jing descended the tower steps slowly. If he fled now, the settlement would fall. If he stayed and lost, the Apostle would die in its first week. But if he won, the ripple would not be minor anymore.
As he reached the broken gate, he noticed something different among the approaching figures. One rider sat taller than the rest. The torchlight reflected off metal bracers engraved with faint lines. Not ordinary steel. Energy-lined. This world had more than simple bandits. The rider raised a hand. The torches stopped. Even at a distance, Zhou Jing could feel it—a pressure. Not overwhelming. But above normal human level. A practitioner.
The rider's voice carried across the field. "Who injured my men?" Zhou Jing stepped forward alone. "I did." A pause. Then laughter, low and amused. "Good," the rider said. "I was getting bored of weak villages." The pressure increased slightly.
[Power Signature Detected]
[Classification: Low-Tier Body Tempering Practitioner]
[Estimated Superiority Over Current Apostle: 27%]
Zhou Jing's lips curved faintly. Not unwinnable. Just dangerous. The rider dismounted, drew a blade, and the air itself seemed to tighten. The villagers retreated in terror. Zhou Jing rolled his shoulders once. The Apostle's muscles felt alive. Responsive. Ready. Tonight would decide whether Zhou Yuan became a forgotten corpse—or a name that traveled beyond this plain. The rider charged. And Zhou Jing moved to meet him.