369: Chapter 369 really demands a lot of skill.

Wei Ziqing looked at the Black Bear before him, which was covered in a shell of mud and stone. He raised his right hand and gripped the hilt of the sword behind his back.

He drew the sword.

The slender bone sword slid from its scabbard, its blade gleaming with a cold, white luster in the sunlight. He held it, watching the Black Bear, and then performed a movement—

He thrust the sword back into its scabbard.

It wasn't the gentle placement of returning a sword to its sheath, but a forceful action imbued with a sense of ritual. The blade vanished completely into the scabbard, the hilt and the opening fitting together seamlessly.

Then, the transformation began.

The sword and scabbard seemed to come alive. The originally independent biomass structures began a process of Fusion and reconstruction, as a silver-white light flowed and spread along the patterns of the scabbard. The entire scabbard was deforming, elongating, and evolving into another form.

A few seconds later, the scabbard on Wei Ziqing's back had vanished.

In its place was a Long Spear.

The spear's shaft was slender and entirely pitch-black, yet under the sunlight, a silver-white inner layer could be faintly seen through the black gaps. The spearhead was sharp, without barbs or fancy decorations, possessing only a straight, lethal edge. The entire spear was minimalist to the extreme, but also dangerous to the extreme.

At the same time, the armor on Wei Ziqing's body also began to change.

A black outer layer grew from the plain white base like a living liquid metal, slowly flowing and covering the breastplate, pauldrons, and greaves. The gold trim was submerged, and the white base was obscured; only in the gaps of the joints and plates could the original silver glimmer be faintly seen. The texture of the armor's surface became complex and orderly—fine geometric patterns, arc domes, honeycomb supports, and ripple reinforcements, layered upon one another like some ancient and sturdy biological fossil structure.

Heavy. Steady. Indestructible.

Wei Ziqing raised his left hand and gripped the middle of the spear shaft. The spearhead pointed diagonally toward the ground.

He looked at the Black Bear, the corners of his mouth curling slightly.

It wasn't out of provocation, but because—

He couldn't wait any longer.

When The Forger sent that message in the group, he had been wondering: what exactly was the new form like? Was it usable? Was it effective? Were there any pitfalls? Later, The Forger sent him a detailed explanation individually, going over all the characteristics, pros and cons, and usage methods. He had read it three times, thinking each time: when will I get to use this?

Now, the opportunity had arrived.

To deal with a power-type opponent, use a power-type form. This logic was perfectly sound.

Holding the Long Spear, he walked slowly toward the Black Bear.

The Black Bear stared at him, letting out a low growl from its throat. The sound was deep, as if ground out from the depths of its chest, carrying a clear warning—stay away from me.

Wei Ziqing did not stop.

He continued forward, one step, two steps, three steps.

The Black Bear moved.

Exerting force with all four limbs, its entire body lunged at Wei Ziqing like a cannonball wrapped in mud and stone. Those blunt forepaws swung with enough power to snap a tree trunk, aimed straight for Wei Ziqing's head—

Wei Ziqing raised his spear.

He held the spear shaft horizontally with both hands, meeting the descending giant paw head-on.

Boom!

The sound of the impact was dull and heavy, like two massive boulders colliding. The ground beneath Wei Ziqing's feet cracked—with his feet as the center, spiderweb-like fissures spread outward for more than half a meter.

But his body didn't budge an inch.

The spear shaft held steady, firmly blocking the giant paw so it couldn't advance even a fraction of an inch.

Wei Ziqing looked up through the black visor of his armor at the bear's face embedded in mud and stone. Those small eyes were still staring at him, but the calmness within them had turned into confusion.

Wei Ziqing said softly:

"Is this the charm of raw stats?"

(The charm of stats, the finesse of play, top-tier awareness, maxed-out reactions, slick positioning, precise decision-making, peak macro, the art of the comeback, the pleasure of a stomp, the devil in the details.)

With a flick of his wrist, Wei Ziqing swept the Long Spear horizontally.

The shaft carried immense force, slamming hard against the Black Bear's ribs. Mud and twigs sprayed as a crack was smashed into that thick outer shell. The Black Bear stumbled back two steps, and before it could steady itself, the second strike arrived—this time a direct thrust, the spearhead aimed straight for the mud shell on its chest.

The Black Bear tried to dodge to the side.

But the spear was too fast. Carrying the full force of the Heavy Armor Form, it stabbed into the bear's shoulder blade. The spearhead pierced the mud-stone composite armor, carving a gash into the smooth grey skin, and dark red blood seeped from the wound.

The Black Bear let out a low growl. It wasn't a warning like before; it was a cry of pain.

It glanced down at its wound, then looked up to stare at Wei Ziqing. The calmness in its small eyes had vanished, replaced by something more primal and frenzied.

It was enraged.

The Black Bear lunged at Wei Ziqing with all its might, this time without any testing, using a purely suicidal fighting style. Wei Ziqing didn't dodge. He gripped the spear with both hands, braced the butt against the ground, and met the giant paw head-on—

Boom!

Another dull thud. More cracks appeared in the ground beneath Wei Ziqing's feet, but his body only swayed slightly. The bear paw that struck his chest was firmly blocked by the black heavy armor, leaving not even a mark.

At the same time, Wei Ziqing thrust out the Long Spear.

The spearhead sank into the Black Bear's abdomen, piercing the mud shell and skin, going half a foot deep. The Black Bear shrieked, stumbling back several steps as blood gushed from the abdominal wound.

Wei Ziqing looked down at his breastplate, then at the spear in his hand, and gave a soft "tsk."

"This form... really requires high-level operation."

He looked up at the wounded Black Bear across from him.

"The defense is so high. You almost broke my guard."

The Black Bear couldn't understand what he was saying, but it understood his tone. It roared and lunged again—

One strike. Two strikes. Three strikes.

Every thrust hit home. Every strike left new cracks on the mud shell it was so proud of. The Black Bear's roars grew louder, but its wounds multiplied.

Then, from another direction, came an even deeper, more savage roar.

Wei Ziqing caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye—at the corner of the Unit building, another identical Black Bear charged out. Following closely behind was a third, crashing out from the nearby greenery and crushing a patch of shrubs.

Three of them.

Three Black Bears, covered in mud and stone with smooth skin and cold eyes, closed in on him in a fan formation.

Wei Ziqing held his spear and stood his ground, unmoving.

The first Black Bear pounced. He pierced its forepaw with a single thrust.

The second bear slammed in from the side. He braced his shoulder to take the hit while simultaneously swinging the spear shaft against its face.

The third bear circled behind for a sneak attack. Without even turning his head, he jabbed the butt of the spear backward, striking it squarely in the chest.

The three Black Bears attacked him frantically with giant paws, slams, and bites—every move they had was thrown at him. Wei Ziqing neither dodged nor evaded, tanking every blow with his body and returning every strike with his spear.

One thrust. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The Black Bears' roars became increasingly shrill. They began to show signs of damage: mud shells peeled off, wounds bled, and their steps began to falter. Meanwhile, the black figure surrounded by them remained unmoved from start to finish, steadily stabbing back, one thrust after another.

Finally, the three Black Bears retreated a few steps simultaneously, panting heavily as they stared at him.

Wei Ziqing also stopped and looked down at his breastplate.

There wasn't even a shallow scratch.

He looked up at the three wounded Black Bears, the corners of his mouth curling again.

"Whoa," he said, "that's a lot of Black Bears."