Authority

"Mmm..."

Chen Feng slowly opened his eyes. The world outside was shrouded in pitch-black darkness, a sign that he had slept for a long time. Now that he had advanced to the Silver Realm, his mental strength had surged beyond human limits. With proper rest, he could remain hyperactive for days on end, his stamina stretching far beyond the ordinary.

This was the terrifying nature of professionals. Unlike the fragile bodies of ordinary people, which crumbled after mere hours in a catastrophe, professionals could endure for days—pushing the boundaries of human resilience.

He moved toward the mirror.

The reflection that stared back at him was stark: a young man, somewhat lean, but with a cold, predatory aura that separated him from the rest of humanity. His presence, sharp and distant, radiated an almost unapproachable aura, like a figure carved from ice.

He stood there, not like a man, but like an alpha wolf commanding his pack. The sheer pressure that emanated from him was suffocating, a force that would make the weak-willed tremble. Some, especially the fearful, would struggle to even speak in his presence.

Authority.

It clung to him like a shroud, the same overwhelming force found in rulers who command the lives of tens of thousands with a single word. Their mere presence could strike unease into the hearts of those around them, even without uttering a sound.

In ancient times, an emperor's wrath could sentence a million to death. His slightest displeasure would see entire bloodlines wiped out, his power so absolute that none dared question him.

Intimidation.

It was invisible yet undeniable—an air of dominance that few could withstand.

Now, under Chen Feng's command were three Silver-Realm creatures: the Dark Elf, the Harbinger, and the Dretch. Each was powerful in its own right, a force capable of destruction. With the factory now under his control, his army had grown to over 700 people, over six times its original size.

Life and death—all in his hands.

In this twisted apocalypse, Chen Feng held their lives like a god holding the fate of mortals. If gods truly existed, then he was their protector and punisher.

His growing power had only made him more formidable. His mere gaze now carried the weight of his authority, the invisible pressure of a man who could shift the tides of life and death.

His left eye, now fully merged, had returned to normal. Dark, indistinguishable from any ordinary person.

Before, when the eye had just formed, it glowed with a sinister light, more like that of a demon than a human. But now, with the fusion complete, it was no longer foreign. It was a part of him.

Chen Feng focused his mind, and a surge of spiritual energy rippled toward his left eye. Instantly, the pupil turned pale green, and four colorful dots appeared around it, slowly rotating like butterflies caught in a storm of madness.

"The Balrog form... and now, the Phantasmal Eye."

Chen Feng's voice was a whisper, his tone filled with dark satisfaction. "Without realizing it, I've gained two powerful cards. The Dretch and the others still need to be nurtured, but I must grow even stronger. Only then can I survive the coming horrors of this apocalypse."

His left eye flickered, and then the colors faded, returning to its normal hue.

Having rested enough, Chen Feng's thoughts shifted toward what lay outside the door. He stood, his movements deliberate and controlled, and pushed open the door.

The instant he did, the stench of blood hit him.

The factory was dimly illuminated by a weak generator. The pale glow barely pierced the thick shadows, unable to power the machinery, but just strong enough to cast a cold, sickly light over the room.

Hundreds of people were scattered around, huddled in the corners, their faces pale with unease. Some women, particularly those who had been traumatized by the chaos, sat in silent groups, their bodies trembling, eyes filled with fear and hopelessness.

At the center of the room, five corpses lay in a grotesque display. Their eyes were wide open, frozen in expressions of terror, their necks twisted at unnatural angles. Blood had pooled beneath their bodies, soaking into the cold floor.

Wei Xun stood nearby, his posture rigid, the air around him crackling with menace. There was no question who had caused their deaths. The violent aura he exuded was palpable, a storm of brutality barely restrained.

"What happened?" Chen Feng asked softly, though the glint in his eyes was anything but gentle. Cold light flickered beneath his calm demeanor, casting an unsettling aura.

At the sound of his voice, Wei Xun whipped around, instinctively bowing his head. When his eyes met Chen Feng's pitch-black gaze, a chill ran down his spine. It felt as though he was standing before a slumbering beast, one that could awaken at any moment with a thirst for blood. The malice that had darkened Wei Xun's features moments before faded instantly, replaced by something closer to fear.

"Master, these were Wang Yong's men. They tried to escape, but I stopped them," Wei Xun said, his voice low, bowing his head deeper in submission.

Chen Feng's eyes narrowed as he issued his orders, his voice steady yet chilling. "Good. You're in charge here. Make sure all the food is centralized in one place, and stamp out any further violence. As for the people in the shelter, move them here."

The shelter, though safer due to its underground location, was far from ideal for long-term habitation. The damp, lightless conditions would eventually lead to sickness, even for the strongest among them. However, Chen Feng had no intention of abandoning it entirely. It could serve as a fallback position, a hidden supply depot, or a temporary refuge when necessary.

Chen Feng wasn't interested in micromanaging the camp's daily affairs. Once order was established, others would enforce his will. His focus was on growing stronger, not governing a handful of survivors.

Today there were a few hundred people. Tomorrow, there could be thousands, or even tens of thousands. If he involved himself in every detail, his pursuit of power would falter. His goal wasn't to be some benevolent ruler, wasting energy on the minutiae of survival. If he did, exhaustion would eventually claim him, and he would crumble under the weight of it all.

He would not be a judge.

In this world, his role was not to sacrifice himself to eradicate every evil. Chen Feng's was a more pragmatic approach—survival first, power second. The camp was an asset, a symbiotic relationship where he provided protection, and they provided resources.

The Land of Order. A Place of Refuge.

He didn't care about being a hero or erasing all evil. Some would rise to become judges, sacrificing everything in their crusade against corruption. And then there were the others—those who had plunged into madness.

The Cultists.

As the apocalypse deepened, with society's morals eroding, dark cults began to flourish. Their followers were not survivors—they were predators, killing not out of necessity but for pleasure.

Cults like the Devil's Cult, the Doomsday Church, and the Yizi Sect had turned their depravity into religion. Children's organs were used in their twisted rituals, and yet, even so, desperate people flocked to them.

Tumors of Humanity.

Monsters, bugs, and zombies could be slain, but the darkness festering in the human heart was far harder to kill. Some professionals, utterly lawless, aligned themselves with entities from other worlds, sacrificing their own kind to feed their hunger for power.

Chaos.

Compared to what was coming, the chaos Chen Feng faced now was a mere whisper. He understood that what lay ahead would dwarf everything he had seen so far. That was why he sought strength with such relentless fervor. The waves of war and destruction looming on the horizon would crush the weak, and without power, he would not survive.

"The factory is under our control," Chen Feng mused, his mind already moving ahead. "But for Wang Yong to have supported so many people, there must be significant resources here. He was here long enough—he must know this area well."

His gaze shifted toward Wang Yong's Elementalist, the one who had surrendered rather than fight. As one of Wang Yong's men, the Elementalist would have participated in the numerous raids and scavenges that kept the camp alive.

Chen Feng pointed coldly. "Step forward."

The Elementalist trembled and stepped closer, unable to meet Chen Feng's gaze.

"Tell me," Chen Feng continued, his voice icy, "how much material did Wang Yong have stashed here? And are there any powerful monsters nearby?"

Now that Chen Feng had ascended to the Silver Realm and commanded three powerful summons, there was still a gap in his strength. He needed more...

Monsters.

Powerful Monsters.

He needed corpses—strong, fearsome corpses—to fuel his next summoning. His fourth summon awaited, and only through the sacrifice of a worthy monster could his power grow further.