On the northern shore of the Baiyue Strait, northwest of French Fry Harbor, a one-meter-wide trench ran before a three-meter-tall earthen wall, its front lined with sharpened stakes forming a crude palisade. In the grass just beyond the barricade, bodies lay scattered in all directions. Most were the remains of mutant beasts, though a few were players who hadn’t reacted fast enough.0

Staring at the corpses and the mud turned red with blood, Irene flicked off his rifle’s safety and said with a complicated expression, “I keep having this feeling…”0

Beside him, the Elf Wang glanced over. “What feeling?”0

Surveying the dense rainforest ahead, Irene frowned in thought. “… It’s like this land is alive.”1

Blood-splattered tree shadows swayed...0