Chapter 551: . Third option: Very simple, just kill everyone.

Book 551. The Third Option: It’s simple—just eliminate everyone. Lin

“The Thirteenth-Rank Bone-Extreme Blade cannot come. How are we supposed to stand against them?”

Saya scanned the surroundings. Everywhere his gaze fell, grotesque, monstrous silhouettes loomed—beasts snarling with terror, exhaling thick, night-black smoke from their nostrils and mouths, their very bodies radiating an ashen, suffocating haze.

Saya couldn’t help but shiver, ever so slightly.

“Just because he says the Bone-Extreme Blade won’t come… does that truly mean he won’t?”

Lu Sheng suddenly spoke.

Saya froze. Beside him, Tang Dun, who had been bowing his head, lifted it sharply.

“What do you mean?” Tang Dun rumbled, voice thick and gravelly.

“According to Sara’s own words,” Lu Sheng continued, “the Bone-Extreme Blade has had all memories related to this rescue mission erased.”

“To erase the memories of a Thirteenth-Rank powerhouse—surely only a Fourteenth-Rank cultivator could manage such a feat, wouldn’t you agree?”

He paused, then fixed both men with a blank, unreadable stare.

“And tell me—do *we*—this ragtag group of ours—deserve the personal attention of a Fourteenth-Rank master?”

Saya and Tang Dun’s eyes flared with sudden clarity. A realization struck like lightning.

Of course.

They were nothing more than a motley crew—none exceeding Twelfth Rank, mere scraps of rotten fish and spoiled shrimp. Why would a Fourteenth-Rank sovereign waste effort on *them*?

“Damn it! Sara’s been fooling us!”

Saya instantly sprang back to life, excitement crackling in his voice. “So the Bone-Extreme Blade *will* come after all!”

“Naturally.”

Lu Sheng nodded, calm as still water. “But given the current situation…”

He trailed off, then added, almost casually:

“Relying on him to save us now? Unlikely. Otherwise, why would Sara have time to play his little recruitment games with you?”

Saya’s face fell again, deflating like a punctured balloon.

“So what do we do? Late arrival is no different from no arrival at all—it’s not like he’s coming to collect our corpses.”

“He’s forcing us to decide *now*, right this second!”

“Either join them and become traitors—or die. There is no third option…”

Saya’s eyes flickered, his expression torn. After a moment’s hesitation, he ventured:

“What if… we pretend to surrender first? Then, the moment the Bone-Extreme Blade arrives—we turn on them. Could that work?”

Even as Saya wrestled with the idea, Sara’s voice descended from high above, cold and final:

“Enough. I’ve already given you your chance.”

By now, nearly half the martial artists present had already chosen to defect—voluntarily joining Sara’s ranks, willingly becoming traitors.

The rest lingered in indecision—or stood resolute, vowing death over submission.

Sara gazed down upon the remaining holdouts, voice serene, indifferent:

“If you wish to die… I won’t stop you.”

*Snap.*

A sharp, crisp snap of his fingers.

Instantly, the countless beasts encircling them surged into frenzied motion.

The ring tightened—swift, merciless—as a tide of chilling, oppressive darkness rushed inward like a flood.

“Go!”

Sara turned to the defectors gathered beside him, voice smooth, commanding:

“Joining isn’t just about words. To prove your loyalty—you must spill blood. Each of you must stain your hands with *at least one* comrade’s blood. Only then will your surrender be valid.”

His lips curled into a cruel smile. He flicked his tongue lightly across his lower lip.

“And if you fail…”

His voice dropped, velvet-wrapped steel:

“Then your fate will be identical to theirs.”

At those words, every face paled—some subtly, others starkly. A few defectors’ expressions twisted instantly, their eyes darting, calculating.

Clearly, Saya wasn’t the only one scheming temporary allegiance, waiting for betrayal later.

*Roaaar!*

The first beast lunged toward the remaining martial artists—the roar tearing through the air like a war horn, igniting the last embers of restraint in the defectors’ hearts.

“Kill!”

The first defector—a Eleventh-Rank martial artist—screamed, eyes blood-red, face contorted, diving downward like a falling star.

Then another. And another.

One after another, they hurled themselves forward, desperate, frantic—fearing nothing more than being left behind.

Their speed even surpassed the frenzy with which they’d once scrambled for beast cores, racing to claim the spoils of slaughter.

Such is humanity: once the inner threshold cracks, guilt and remorse vanish—transformed instead into fuel for greater sin. Even acts tenfold more monstrous than raising a blade against former comrades become possible.

Shadows and beast-forms swarmed together, descending upon the group below—led by two guides—like a storm of iron and fang.

In an instant, the defenders vanished beneath the tide.

All were plunged into desperate, brutal combat.

Meanwhile, Sara and his allies stood apart—arms folded, smiles serene—as though watching a long-awaited performance unfold before them.

Sara’s command to the defectors was precise: each must draw *at least one* comrade’s blood. No rank requirement—only blood spilled among those still standing mattered.

This detail shifted the battlefield’s dynamics instantly.

The remaining Eleventh-Rank martial artists—few in number—suddenly became prized targets.

Killing an Eleventh-Rank was infinitely easier than taking down a Twelfth.

“Aaahhh!”

Within the first clash, shrieks of agony erupted—sharp, piercing, overlapping.

Several unyielding Eleventh-Rank warriors were torn apart in unison by multiple Twelfth-Rank assailants. Their martial spirits barely emerged from their shattered bodies before a second wave of attackers slammed into them—extinguishing them utterly.

"Don't die too miserably."

"Damn!"

Seeing this, Saya's face twisted wildly, his lips nearly failing him.

Their small group had kept a fair distance, not caught in the first wave of the assault.

But in the span of a blink or two,

the murderers were upon them.

"This one's mine!"

A twelfth-level powerhouse, nearly four meters tall with a body as rugged as granite, fixed his eyes on Saya like knives,

and threw a punch straight at him.

The pressure coiled around his fist nearly suffocated Saya.

The gap between eleventh and twelfth level was simply too vast.

If that punch landed, he was dead—

no second possibility.

"Hmph!"

Just then, a burly figure silently stepped in front of him, spreading his arms to block the blow.

"Tongdon!"

Saya nearly wept with gratitude.

"Good brother!"

But before Saya could savor it for a few seconds, his body tensed up again.

Two more gazes, brimming with murderous intent, locked onto him.

Both were twelfth-level!

"Damn it..."

Saya scrambled backward, but after a few steps, he felt a hand gently press against his back.

Turning his head, he met Lu Sheng's calm, lake-like eyes.

"Lu Sheng!"

Saya's eyes lit up, about to plead for help, but then a bitter thought struck him.

Lu Sheng was only eleventh-level too.

Even if he were stronger, it wouldn't be by much—could he really hold off twelfth-level experts?

Even if Lu Sheng was a genius, levels were levels!

Around them now, twelfth-level fighters were everywhere.

A quick scan revealed no fewer than five or six.

Five or six twelfth-level...

And the two of them, eleventh-level...

A wave of profound helplessness and despair washed over Saya.

"It's over."

Feeling the scarlet eyes around him, like hungry tigers eyeing a lamb, Saya let out a bitter laugh.

"I shouldn't have listened to that old liar and come to this alien battlefield.

What 'greatest turning point of my life'—this damn thing has turned me straight onto a dead-end road.

Outside, I got bullied and humiliated, but at least they didn't dare push me to the death.

Compared to living, what the hell is dignity? Ah..."

Only near death can one truly grasp the preciousness of life.

That was Saya in this moment.

He even regretted not gritting his teeth and defecting to Sara's side earlier—being a dog was better than dying.

In a thousandth of a second, a jumble of chaotic thoughts raced through Saya's mind.

Then he slowly closed his eyes, ready to face his fate.

Dying in an instant—it probably wouldn't hurt much, he thought silently.

Just then, a calm voice sounded in his ear.

"Actually..."

"Huh?!"

Saya's eyes snapped open.

He saw Lu Sheng looking at him, speaking slowly.

"Besides defecting or dying, there's a third option."

"What option?"

Saya was stunned.

"Simple."

Lu Sheng's gaze slid past Saya, shifting to the direction behind him.

"Kill Sara and all the alien beasts.

That way, you won't have to defect, and you won't have to die."

"???!"

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