Halfway through his calisthenics routine, Shen Yue's rhythm was interrupted by a deafening clang that shattered the morning's quiet.
*Tunnn… Tunnn… Tunnn…*
The massive bell tolled three times, each ring reverberating through the estate like a call from the abyss.
Shen Yue froze, his heart plummeting.
The three-bell signal was a dire warning, an emergency summons not heard in over a century. It meant catastrophe—everyone, injured or not, had to gather at the open ground immediately.
His pulse quickened, a cold dread coiling in his gut.
"Not now," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The military period was days away, yet fate seemed determined to drag him into chaos early.
He sprinted toward the open ground, his half-healed body protesting with every step.
The estate's stone corridors blurred past, their austere walls echoing with the bell's fading resonance.
As he emerged into the clearing, he was met by a sea of faces—soldiers, commanders, generals, and even the chief, all gathered in a rare assembly.
The air crackled with tension, heavy with unspoken fear.
Shen Yue's gaze drifted to the source of the sound: a colossal bell, twenty meters tall, its surface etched with ancient patterns that shimmered faintly in the dawn's pale light.
Its presence loomed like a silent guardian, its toll a harbinger of doom.
He swallowed hard, his mind racing.
*The last time it rang was a hundred years ago… What could be this serious?*
The chief commander stepped onto a raised platform, his mountain-like frame casting a shadow over the crowd.
His face was grim, his eyes hard as flint.
"Our outer city military base is under siege," he declared, his voice booming across the ground.
"The Barbarian horde is relentless. Our soldiers are holding, but they're at their limit. The barricade teeters on collapse. Every able body must march to the battlefield—now."
"Defy this order, and you'll be executed on the spot. Your families will be imprisoned as traitors."
A collective silence fell, broken only by the rustle of armor and stifled breaths.
The soldiers' faces paled, jaws clenched like stone.
Their families lived in the outer city—disobedience was unthinkable.
Shen Yue's stomach churned.
His training period was nearly complete, his body not yet fully healed.
The system hadn't granted him the Qi Absorption 3rd Realm power he'd expected after battlefield extraction.
Without it, he was little more than cannon fodder.
"Rotten luck," he muttered, frustration bitter on his tongue.
*If I had that power, I'd stand a chance. Now? I'm just another body in the storm.*
The commander's words hung heavy, and soon Shen Yue's squad leader barked orders to move out.
As Shen Yue turned to follow, a firm hand gripped his arm.
He spun to find his uncle, face taut with urgency.
"No questions," his uncle said, voice low. "My team's short a member. You're with us."
Shen Yue hesitated, his heart pounding.
"Where are we going?"
"No time to explain," his uncle cut in, eyes locking onto his. "I can keep you safe out there. Trust me."
Relief washed over Shen Yue, easing the knot in his chest.
He nodded, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.
His uncle had always been his anchor, their bond forged through years of quiet support.
Without drawing attention, they slipped away from the crowd, joining his uncle's team—a tight-knit group of seasoned warriors.
Shen Yue fell into step, his mind a whirlwind of fear and resolve.
*Safe or not, I'm stepping into hell.*
The battlefield was a vision of chaos, sprawling across a vast expanse—fifty football fields wide, maybe more.
The ground was a graveyard of broken bodies and crimson pools, the air thick with the stench of blood and iron.
Barbarians and soldiers clashed in a frenzy, their roars and screams blending into a cacophony of desperation.
Shen Yue's breath caught, his knees weakening at the sight.
He'd read of war in books, seen glimpses in memories from a past life, but nothing prepared him for this raw, visceral horror.
His uncle's hand landed on his shoulder, steady and grounding.
"Breathe, Yue," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Focus on what's in front of you."
Shen Yue nodded, forcing his racing heart to slow.
Inside, chaos raged.
*This is real. No training, no books—just blood and death.*
He made a silent vow, his resolve hardening like steel.
*Do or die.*
His uncle pressed a longsword into his hands, its weight unfamiliar yet strangely right.
Shen Yue's predecessor had wielded a sword poorly, his skills lackluster at best.
But as his fingers closed around the hilt, a surge coursed through him, like a spark igniting his blood.
The blade felt alive, an extension of his body.
*Is this… my sword talent?*
His Mid-Level Sword Talent, dormant until now, seemed to awaken, lending him an instinct he'd never known.
He tightened his grip, a flicker of confidence cutting through his fear.
A group of barbarians charged, their numbers matching the team's.
Their eyes burned with feral hunger, axes and spears gleaming.
The fight erupted as one barbarian lunged, his roar shaking the air.
Shen Yue's uncle stepped forward, shielding him.
"Stay back, Yue!" he barked, his sword flashing in a deadly arc.
Two barbarians fell, blood spraying, but more pressed in, their strength overwhelming.
Shen Yue watched, heart pounding, as his uncle fought like a storm.
But the enemy was relentless, their 8th-grade Blood Qi Realm power clashing against his uncle's 9th-grade prowess.
Deep cuts marred his uncle's arms, his breath growing ragged.
Shen Yue's stomach twisted.
*He's strong, but he's tiring. If I don't act…*
He gripped his sword tighter, waiting for an opening.
His uncle kicked one barbarian back, grappling with another in a desperate struggle.
Shen Yue's pulse roared in his ears.
*Now or never.*
He lunged, moving with the speed and precision of a lone wolf.
His sword pierced the first barbarian's heart, the blade sinking deep with a sickening thud.
The man screamed, staggering, and the second barbarian faltered, distracted.
Seizing the moment, Shen Yue swung, his blade slicing clean through the enemy's neck.
The head rolled, blood pooling beneath.
Shen Yue sank to his knees, chest heaving, staring at the carnage.
His hands trembled, the sword heavy in his grip.
*I… killed them.*
The weight of it hit him, a mix of shock and grim satisfaction.
His uncle knelt beside him, hands firm on his shoulders.
"Good job, brat," he said, a rare smile breaking through his weathered face. "You saved us both."
Shen Yue managed a weak nod, his uncle's words a lifeline in the chaos.
He knew it was partly to calm him, but the praise warmed his chest.
"Didn't have a choice," he muttered, his voice shaky but steadying.
The rest of their team staggered back, bloodied and weary.
Of the original forty, only twenty-nine remained, their faces etched with grief and exhaustion.
The war raged on, screams and clashing steel echoing in the distance.
Shen Yue's senses sharpened, a strange clarity cutting through the haze.
He glanced at his system interface, heart skipping as a new skill appeared:
**System Update:**
**Skill: Hyper Sense (Entry) (3%)**
Mentally selecting it, the description materialized:
*Hyper Sense: Heightens senses and allows the user to mask their presence.*
A faint smile tugged at Shen Yue's lips.
*A god-level skill… perfect for this hell.*
He closed the interface, knowing he couldn't rely on it openly.
The battlefield demanded focus, not distraction.
As he rose, a dull *thud* froze his blood.
He turned to see his uncle collapse, blood pooling from a grievous wound in his back.
The gash was deep, jagged, his uncle's breath shallow and fading.
Shen Yue's heart seized.
*No… not him.*
"Uncle!" he shouted, dropping to his knees beside him.
His hands hovered, useless, over the wound.
*He was fine a second ago… when did this happen?*
Panic clawed at him, memories of his uncle's steady presence flashing through his mind—the man who'd taught him to stand tall, to fight for more.
Before he could act, a scream tore through the air.
"Enemy attack! Retreat!"
The words hit like a blade.
Shen Yue's eyes darted to the horizon, where a fresh wave of barbarians charged, their roars shaking the earth.
His uncle's life hung by a thread, and the enemy was closing in.
*I can't lose him… but if I don't move, we're both dead.*
His heart pounded, torn between saving his uncle and surviving the onslaught.
He gripped his sword, resolve hardening.
*Do or die.*
The winds of war howled, carrying the promise of blood and sacrifice.