Seeing that he was about to be teleported out of the Promotion Space, Wen Yu simply stopped thinking.
He took out the Level 2 Mutant Rat Kingâs magic crystal that he had kept in his space ring and quickly began to absorb its power.
In less than ten seconds, Wen Yu had absorbed the entire magic crystal. He quietly assessed his physical condition.
Phew, I probably gained around 0.5 points. But itâs too slow. At this rate, Iâll need 80 Level 2 magic crystals. One Level 2 attributeless magic crystal is worth 500 points. Just to elevate my physical attributes to the peak of Level 2 requires 40,000 points. That number is astronomically high.
Contemplating the astronomical figure he had calculated, Wen Yu shook his head in resignation.
In reality, relying solely on using the Exchange Stone Pillar to exchange magic crystals could not meet the needs of professionists.
Only after the demon plague broke out did the promotion speed of professionists greatly increase. Even mutant creatures evolved quickly amidst the demon plague.
It was survival of the fittest; all those who survived the demon plague underwent a swift period of evolution.
Of course, this excluded the weak and the cannon fodder.
Feeling the increasing repulsion from the Promotion Space, Wen Yu returned to a battle-ready state. He calmly awaited the danger that would undoubtedly surface once he left the treasure land. Barely a few seconds passed before a white light enveloped him, teleporting him out of the Promotion Space.
An intense wave of dizziness hit him. Wen Yu didnât move until it dissipated. If he misjudged his direction and ran into Simba, it would be an utterly undignified death.
Once the scene before him cleared, Wen Yu dared not move a muscle.
Simba and Cyclops stood not far in front of him. Seeing Wen Yu appear out of nowhere, Simba, who had been lying a short distance from Cyclops, slowly rose. Wen Yu felt an increasingly oppressive force emanating from Simba, a power so overwhelming that it robbed him of the courage to even think of fighting back.
Simbaâs colossal eyes stared fixedly at Wen Yu, the mockery, coldness, and cruelty within them sending chills down Wen Yuâs spine.
Simba had been waiting for Wen Yu. During those few minutes, Simba hadnât made any move against Cyclops. Instead, he had merely kept an eye on Cyclops to prevent his escape, all while waiting for Wen Yu to appear.
Simbaâs animosity towards Wen Yu was far stronger than that towards Cyclops. This human had dared to cause him to lose his prey, dared to "toy" with him. So, the intelligent Simba had devised a plan.
A plan to make Wen Yu die in fear, resentment, despair, and misery.
Under Simbaâs gaze, Wen Yu couldnât even move his feet. Simbaâs enormous eyes conveyed a clear message:
Attempt to escape, and you die.
With Wen Yuâs current strength, there was no way he could escape from Simba.
Seeing Wen Yu stand perfectly still, Simba nodded in satisfaction and slowly started towards Cyclops.
Then, Simba smacked Cyclops.
The blow was deceptively light, almost like a loverâs caress. Even Wen Yu, watching from the side, could tell that Simba hadnât used his full strength.
So, Cyclops hadnât died. However, Simbaâs "caress" was not without power. The massive force of the blow slammed into Cyclopsâs body, causing him to let out a mournful scream and fly over ten meters away. The spot where Simba had struck was a mess of torn flesh.
The injury wasnât life-threatening; Simba hadnât intended for Cyclops to die quickly. That would spoil his fun. This was the very plan Simba had concocted.
Kill the chicken to warn the monkey, and then kill the monkey.
Seeing Cyclops get back on his feet, Simba leisurely strolled towards him. He wasnât worried about Wen Yu taking the opportunity to escape; the situation was entirely under his control.
Simbaâs strength eliminated all possibility of unexpected events.
As Simba drew closer, despair and fear filled Cyclopsâs remaining eye, only to be replaced by a fierce will to survive.
Cyclops tensed his body and bolted. Although he knew he couldnât escape, he had to try.
Seeing Cyclops attempt to flee, Simba opened his great maw and let out a deafening roar. The massive sound wave kicked up a cloud of dust, obscuring Wen Yuâs vision.
By the time the dust settled, Simba and Cyclops had swapped places. The difference was that Simba was standing, while Cyclops was lying on the ground.
Cyclops simply couldnât escape.
Again, Simba leisurely walked towards Cyclops. Wen Yu had figured out Simbaâs intent. Unfortunately, Simbaâs plan was succeeding. Watching Cyclops repeatedly try to flee only to be intercepted and batted back by Simba, a desolate sorrow welled up in Wen Yu, the kind one feels for a companion facing a similar, grim fate.
When Simba is done playing, itâll be my turn.
Wen Yu knew he wouldnât fare any better than Cyclops. What was happening to Cyclops was a grim preview of his own fate.
Cyclopsâs despair intensified. His injuries werenât severe; Simba was deliberately controlling his strength to prevent Cyclops from dying. That, Simba reasoned, wouldnât be fun at all.
After countless attempts to escape, only to be smacked back each time, Cyclops understood. He couldnât escape. This struggle was nothing more than a waste of energy.
As Simba drew closer, Cyclops didnât try to bolt this time. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot, trembling all over. He hung his hideous head low, his tail tucked between his hind legs, and whimpered softly.
It was a sign of submission. To survive, Cyclops was begging Simba for mercy, offering his freedom and the remainder of his life as the price.
Simba tilted his head, watching Cyclops whimper incessantly before him. His huge eyes examined Cyclops with interest, as if pondering whether this creature was qualified to be his subordinate.
Sensing that Simba hadnât continued the torture, Cyclops couldnât help but feel a flicker of hope. His ugly head nudged forward slightly, softly rubbing against Simbaâs forepaw, humble yet desperate.
This was a lifeformâs desperate struggle for survival.
Simba looked down, watching the large dogâs fawning display. The amusement and curiosity in his eyes slowly vanished, replaced by an ever-deepening killing intent.
Youâre just a chicken in my eyes, one meant to warn the monkey. What makes you think youâre qualified to be my subordinate? If I let you go, then what about the monkey?
Simba didnât need followers.
So, he smacked Cyclops away again, and with that blow, Cyclopsâs last shred of hope vanished.
This time, Simbaâs strike was especially powerful. What little intact skin Cyclops had left was now completely mangled, blood streaming from his limbs.
Cyclops staggered to his feet, assuming the same posture: head lowered, tail tucked, his limbs trembling uncontrollably under his bodyâs weight. But this time, his stance was filled with utter desolation and helplessness.
Simba walked towards him again, with the same unhurried, leisurely pace as before.