Chapter 38: Level Six Existence

The naive little lion cub suffered his first brutal lesson from the world, ending up battered, bruised, and tied up. Of course, the mercenaries were well aware that he was the descendant of the Beast Emperor, so they didn't go too far—they just gave him a beating to teach him a lesson in obedience.

The little lion was filled with regret, but it was too late. He could not understand why he had saved those people's lives only to be repaid with such treachery. A cub who had never killed a soul before, he now wished he could tear those mercenaries to pieces.

That night, as the little lion wallowed in remorse, the door creaked open. He assumed it was someone bringing him food, but when he looked up, he saw a sturdy figure standing before him. Upon recognizing who it was, the little lion could no longer suppress his emotions and burst into tears.

"Father! I... I..." The cub was overwhelmed with agitation and shame, unable to finish his sentence.

The Beast Emperor said nothing. He simply reached out and stroked the little lion’s head.

"Does it hurt, my child?"

"Yes."

"Good. It should hurt."

Sometimes, words are unnecessary; one experience is worth ten thousand empty phrases.

Wo Biao sat there for a long time, unmoved even as the sounds of battle echoed from outside. He felt the sixth-rank shackles within him loosen slightly, and the corners of his mouth curled upward.

A majestic voice resonated through Wo Biao's main tent: "The blood of the Orcs will not be shed in vain. Our ancestors paid too high a price to establish our foothold on this continent, and they will not tolerate cowardly descendants! Even if we must die, we shall stain our enemies with our blood! Even if we are to perish, we will make them know that Orc bone is not easily broken!"

The commanding voice did not falter, echoing throughout the tent and lingering in the air.

Wo Biao appeared before the Orc defensive line. A hulking, domineering figure descended from the sky, smashing into a swarm of Zerglings and sending them flying. The sound of a sword being drawn rang out, and two Zerglings were cleaved in half mid-air.

Wo Biao’s golden form stood facing the incoming swarm, his back to the Orc defense line. He roared, "From today on, there is no such thing as 'defense' in the Orc dictionary! If you still have the blood of an Orc flowing through your veins, do not let me down!"

With that, he charged alone into the wave of Zerglings.

The Orcs were a warlike race, but the Zergs' bizarre tactics had caught them off guard. Seeing their Emperor leading the charge ignited the burning blood within them. They howled and surged forward like a tide, abandoning all thoughts of survival. You claw me, I axe you—they ignored defense, their hearts filled only with the desire to attack, their eyes focused only on the enemy. Driven by hatred, they spilled their hot blood for their King.

Even the ten pig-dog advisors grabbed their blades and rushed to the front lines. Their King was always at the forefront; they had never feared death, only dying for nothing. With a King like this, their lives were a price worth paying. This was the battle the Orcs craved.

Life for a life; the Orc blood had not yet run cold.
Hot blood against cold blood; the Zerg swarm shall not run rampant.
Born through death, the Orcs were reborn in this moment.

You Zerglings are fast? Sorry, we have the numbers!
Your bone spines have high penetration? Sorry, we have the numbers, and we will block them with our own muscle and bone!

The battle suddenly became fiercely intense. It all happened so fast that Yang Dianfeng was caught off guard. The Orcs were fighting as if possessed, and casualties mounted rapidly. Realizing the situation, Yang Dianfeng had no choice but to retreat, utilizing the speed of the Zerglings and the cover of the Hydralisks.

But this time, it was not so smooth. The Zerglings tasked with covering the retreat could not hold back the bloodthirsty Orcs for long. More Zerglings were sent in to cover them, but the golden figure at the lead fought like a god of war, tireless and unstoppable.

As he charged toward the Hydralisk formation, Yang Dianfeng grew desperate. If this Lion King broke through to the Hydralisks and disrupted their formation, his entire Zerg force would be wiped out here. A thousand bone spines tore through the air simultaneously. With no room to dodge, Wo Biao could only shield his head with his left arm and his lower body with his right, his muscles bulging and tightening until he seemed to grow in size.

*Bang, bang, bang!* Thousands of bone spines blanketed the area, even piercing through many Zerglings in the process. Wo Biao, the primary target, was turned into a human pincushion. With hundreds of spines embedded in his body, he became a grotesque sight on the battlefield. The fighting Orcs stopped, staring in stunned silence at their King.

Taking advantage of this pause, Yang Dianfeng ordered his remaining Zerglings to retreat and had the Hydralisks burrow underground. The losses were heavy, and he wanted no more of this. "Killing your commander is a victory of sorts," he thought, breaking into a cold sweat. He had nearly lost his entire force.

As he turned to leave, he felt a surge of killing intent. He looked back in confusion to find Wo Biao, who had been on the verge of collapse, forcing himself to stand. His knees, nearly touching the ground, straightened. He was enduring unimaginable agony.

"Does it hurt, my child?"
"Yes."
"Good. It should hurt."

This was the glory and persistence of the Orcs, the words of the god in his heart. Born through death, Orcs shall never be slaves!

Wo Biao pulled through. He lowered his arm, revealing blood-red pupils fixed on Yang Dianfeng. He still gripped the sword, now corroded and pitted by Zerg blood.

Yang Dianfeng’s pupils contracted. *He’s practically a honeycomb—how is he still standing? Is he even human? No, is he even an Orc?*

Shen Yi, sitting in the command center, was equally shocked. *With that kind of tanking ability and defense, even a dog could win!*

"Ah!" With a furious roar, Wo Biao shook his body, shattering the bone spines. His wounds began to heal rapidly. His blood-red eyes locked onto Yang Dianfeng, and though it was deep in the night, he knew exactly where his enemy stood.

Like a cannonball fired from a chamber, he lunged at Yang Dianfeng, his speed doubling. Yang Dianfeng, still riding his Zergling, was intercepted before he could get far. The hulking golden figure descended from the sky, slamming into the ground and creating a crater. Intense killing intent washed over him.

"How do you wish to die, coward who only hides behind others?"

Wo Biao looked at Yang Dianfeng’s mount with surprise, noting that the creature didn't show the slightest fear as it stared straight at him.

"You only know how to let your subordinates charge? Typical human behavior! Killing you would only soil my blade!"

Shen Yi heard this from the base. It felt as if he were the true coward; compared to Yang Dianfeng, he felt inferior. Yang Dianfeng flushed with shame, and Shen Yi, feeling the words strike home, felt deeply uncomfortable. He was indeed a coward.

"I lost. I have nothing to say." Yang Dianfeng stroked the Zergling beneath him—the one that had saved him, the first one he had ever touched. He jumped down and whispered, "Go." The Zergling burrowed into the ground.

Wo Biao watched but did not intervene. It was just a Zergling; he had killed many. Running away meant nothing.

"Fine. Winner takes all. My life is yours." Yang Dianfeng prepared to die. His delicate face showed no trace of cowardice. He felt as if he had returned to the days when he dared to challenge fate with a sword. Though he remained weak, he was still stubborn. It was just a pity he hadn't managed to wipe out all the Orcs.

He drew his sword and pointed it at the Beast Emperor.

"Mother, I am coming to join you..."