C3 Entering the Wolf's Den or Not?

The two locked eyes, and the air between them grew thick with awkwardness. The reward from the system failed to arrive as anticipated.

Wu Ziming was puzzled, wondering if he needed to repeat the process, when Xiaoming burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching his stomach.

"I can't take it, this is too funny. Oh, Moses and Roy, are you trying to laugh me to death so you can take over my royal lineage? Haha..." Having had his fill of laughter, Xiaoming cleared his throat, his face quickly returning to a more serious expression.

"Cough! Congratulations on acquiring the power of an Immortal Emperor." His voice deepened, resonating with a magnetic quality. Wu Ziming snapped to attention upon hearing these words.

"What?!"

His system was his most guarded secret, and now it had been exposed. His face paled as he was momentarily overwhelmed and at a loss for what to do.

Xiaoming, relishing Wu Ziming's complex look, seemed as though he had stumbled upon a new world. He was about to proceed with his next move when a deadly presence erupted behind him.

"Looks like you're having quite the time," a sinister voice whispered in Xiaoming's ear. In an instant, danger loomed, and Xiaoming's smile faded away.

"Darling, let me explain! Ah..."

"Kid, I'm going to take you somewhere nice," said the girl in pink, casting a glance at Wu Ziming as she held the battered Xiaoming, who was now unrecognizable.

Her gentle demeanor and firm tone convinced Wu Ziming, a newcomer to society, to quickly nod in agreement.

"Alright... Alright..." He knew all too well that refusing would mean sharing Xiaoming's fate.

Wu Ziming followed the girl in pink down the stairs to the lobby, which was deserted and styled like a restaurant from a period drama. Various signature dishes were advertised on the walls, but they were in script he couldn't decipher. Before he could take a closer look, Xiaoming pulled him toward the kitchen.

They passed through the curtains dividing the lobby from the kitchen and stood before the cold storage room. Xiaoming heaved the heavy iron door open, and a blast of cool air greeted them, a welcome respite from the summer heat. Wu Ziming felt as though he had stepped into an air-conditioned haven.

Beyond the hidden compartments, Wu Ziming was escorted into a dimly lit basement by the pair.

He surveyed his surroundings, noting that the room resembled a modern equipment chamber, with an array of tools hanging on the walls—from bone-chopping knives to scalpels.

Cabinets brimmed with glass jars of all sizes, containing organs that continued to wriggle unsettlingly. These items certainly didn't seem like relics of the ancient world.

His attention, however, was quickly drawn to a chair in the center of the basement.

The chair, with fresh bloodstains marking its surface, sent a shiver down Wu Ziming's spine. Surely, this chair wasn't meant for restraining people? Or worse, could it be for restraining himself?

It dawned on him that his surroundings bore no resemblance to the ancient world he knew. He might have stumbled into the lair of some secretive organization.

As he grappled with his confusion, the lights flickered on. He instinctively shut his eyes, reopening them to find two men entering the room.

To the right stood a middle-aged man with a buzz cut, square face, and a goatee. His build was robust, and he was dressed in a black, traditional Tang-style robe, a perpetual smile gracing his face.

To the left was a young man who could have stepped straight out of a CEO romance novel. His demeanor was icy, his gaze sharp, and his aura exuded an intimidating dominance that could easily captivate and ensnare unsuspecting hearts.

Caught off guard, Xiaoming shoved Ziming into the chair, and the shackles snapped shut automatically.

"Hey? What's happening? Why am I being tied up?" Wu Ziming struggled against the restraints, but the shackles were unyielding against his slender arms.

He gazed bewilderedly at the four individuals before him. Despite having an inkling of their intentions, a sliver of hope compelled him to seek an escape.

"You're a transmigrator, aren't you?" The middle-aged man's smile did little to soften the piercing intensity of his gaze, which made Wu Ziming squirm.

A surge of panic gripped Wu Ziming, along with a growing curiosity about these people's identities. Transmigrators? How did they know?

"I... I'm not. What... what's a transmigrator?" His gaze darted away, his feeble attempt at deception clear to any discerning eye.

"Enough with the act. Your immediate acceptance of the system's existence is proof enough that you're a transmigrator," Xiaoming declared, stepping in front of Wu Ziming with a short knife glowing green in his hand, his smile taking on a menacing edge.

"Do you really want to keep up this charade?" he asked, clearing his throat. "Ahem! Welcome to the Holy Spirit Inheritance System."

The sound of that familiar voice hit Wu Ziming like a bolt of lightning. "It's you!" His eyes bulged, and his complexion turned as pale as a sheet of A4 paper. It dawned on him that the enigmatic system was actually a test of his transmigrator status. That explained why the system's voice rang so familiar in his ears.

Realizing this, Wu Ziming silently chided himself for his naivety. How could he, with his limited worldly experience, have anticipated the depth of deception in this otherworldly place?

"I hear that living transmigrators can fetch a handsome reward."

Xiaoming, sporting dark circles under his eyes, menacingly held a knife to Wu Ziming's throat. Under normal circumstances, this would intimidate many, but Xiaoming's battered appearance somehow made him look endearingly pitiful.

"What? You're saving me just for the reward money?" Wu Ziming murmured, his previous fondness for Xiaoming evaporating.

"What's going to happen to me, then? What if I'm turned in?" Wu Ziming defiantly met Xiaoming's gaze and demanded an answer.

In the stories, transmigrators were always conquering foes left and right, yet here he was, about to be traded for cash. Wu Ziming's journey had barely begun; he couldn't accept such an ignominious fate.

"You'd be chopped into mincemeat. Once a person dies, the system is automatically removed. I've heard that having a system can be traded for a Heavenly cultivation technique," Xiaoming said, running his tongue along the blade with a crazed look in his eyes.

"But, it's a bit better if you end up with a cultivator. They have a purification chamber where both the system's recipient and the transmigrator carrying the system are confined together. The transmigrator is disintegrated into molecules by a formation, completely painlessly."

As Xiaoming spoke with increasing gusto, the young girl in pink couldn't stand it any longer. She yanked his ear and dragged him aside. "I'm sorry, it hurts, it hurts..."

"Ding Fu, aren't you going to do something about him?" she said, giving Xiaoming's ear another tug. "He's always frightening the newcomers."

"Ah, it's too much, too much," Ding Fu sighed.

Wu Ziming was utterly bewildered by the unfolding scene. What in the world was happening? Meanwhile, the middle-aged man chuckled with a hearty laugh.

"Don't be afraid. We're transmigrators too, and we mean you no harm," the middle-aged man reassured Wu Ziming, whose face had turned ghostly pale. "Xiaoming is right; falling into the hands of cultivators could mean a fate worse than death. Here, transmigrators are like rats scurrying across the streets, and it's not like the novels where you thrive effortlessly or become invincible with some magical advantage."

A flicker of curiosity passed through the man's eyes, which Wu Ziming, with his limited experience, could not comprehend.

"Congratulations, young one, and welcome to the Wilderness Continent. This isn't some historical dynasty where knowledge of the past can help you rise to the top. Nor is it the modern world where laws and reason are your shields. Here, the world of cultivators is unforgiving, and you've unfortunately landed in a place where only the strong survive. But consider yourself fortunate, for you've encountered us, and this is the only haven for transmigrators in Eventide. For an Earthling like you without any special advantages, survival in the wild is perilous. Staying here is your only viable option."

The middle-aged man spoke with a serene tone, ignoring Xiaoming's antics. "If you don't like it here, you're free to leave at any time. We won't hold you against your will. But be warned, in this world, a transmigrator without any particular skills is in grave danger. Without the protection of a system or the camouflage of blending in, your chances of death are over 90%."

"Why tie me up if we're all transmigrators?" Wu Ziming was still preoccupied with his own predicament, distrustful of the group. If they were truly fellow countrymen, why restrain him?

"We need to perform a small procedure, and we can't have you moving about. Don't worry; it won't hurt much. Let's get started." At some point, Xiaoming had donned a white lab coat. While others might resemble doctors, he looked more like a butcher.

He retrieved a walnut-sized glass bottle with a metal-rimmed edge from a cabinet. Inside floated a spherical sea cucumber with soft spines, glowing faintly. Pressing down on Wu Ziming's restless head, he placed the sea cucumber on his forehead.

As the luminescent tentacles extended, they enveloped Wu Ziming. Bathed in the white glow, Wu Ziming, still struggling, slowly succumbed to unconsciousness.

The team was busy at their respective tasks when they noticed the sea cucumber's effect. Xiaoming stepped back and pressed his forehead, projecting a virtual operation page.

"Connecting to the spiritual unit," confirmed.

"Connection complete. Establishing consciousness defense line," confirmed.

"Initiating biological self-control system. Scanning for biological vitals. Warning: this organism's characteristics do not match human life signatures." The other three quickly gathered around upon hearing this.

"What's wrong with Xiaoming?" the girl in pink asked, her concern evident.

"It's nothing, just a minor glitch," Xiaoming replied, his gaze fixed on the screen, his brow furrowed. This situation was unprecedented; even native organisms could be fused. What on earth was this kid made of?

"Halt the fusion. Compile the data and prepare a briefing." The white silk ceased its coverage and turned blue. A light screen emerged from the space between Wu Ziming's eyebrows.

"This humanoid life form differs from humans in our database. It lacks a microbiome, and its organs are altered, resembling the physical traits of Wilderness natives. The body can accommodate multiple types of energy.

It possesses an energy storage organ, but lacks meridians, dantian, or a sea of consciousness. Traces of coding have been found in its DNA, but the specific cause is unclear. Would you like to access the database for verification?"

Xiaoming's mouth twitched in annoyance. If it were possible to use the database, he would have done so already.

"Coded? Could it be him?" The middle-aged man muttered, the word 'code' triggering a thought of someone. For the safety of the group, he had to be cautious.

"No, he's not capable of that," Xiaoming said with certainty.

"Let's just establish the defense line for now. After all, our new young friend here doesn't have a strong sense of belonging to us. We'll discuss the self-control and sensory systems later," the aloof young man suggested, handing the tablet to Xiaoming.

"That's the best we can do for now." With a few swift taps, the light faded, and within fifteen minutes, the white cocoon integrated into Wu Ziming's body.