That thing was red—a stark, vivid shade that stood out clearly against the golden sand. Its body looked like a worm, or more accurately, like an earthworm magnified countless times. It coiled slowly as it emerged from the sand, its grotesque, writhing mass resembling a monstrous larva.
Its body was twice as wide as their Jeep, and as it pushed itself up from the sand, it was blocked partially by the rock and mountain, forcing it to move more cautiously.
Its “head” looked crudely formed, barely distinguishable from the rest of its body—just a tapered end with no visible eyes, nose, or mouth. The only defining feature was a cluster of tendrils extending from the tip, crackling with faint arcs of blue electricity.
Electricity!?
It was real electrical current, visible even through the haze of the sand-laden air.
Fortunately, when Yu Xi and Lin Wu saw its massive size, they instinctively began climbing higher up the rock face using their climbing gear. By now, they had already scaled over a hundred meters and wedged themselves into a crevice that offered partial shelter. This crevice was larger than the previous one, allowing them to crouch together and remain fully concealed.
The giant worm pressed its tendrils against the rock wall and discharged a series of electric bursts. Bright blue sparks crackled across the surface, but the current failed to travel through the non-conductive stone. The creature remained just out of reach, its movements sluggish as though conserving energy.
It wasn’t until the rest of its body emerged from the sand that Yu Xi realized she had been mistaken. The tendrils weren’t on its head—they were part of its tail.
The true head came into view next. It was just as crudely shaped as the other end, with no discernible eyes or nostrils. The top was bulbous and smooth, split by a massive, gaping mouth that opened like the petals of a carnivorous plant. Inside were rows upon rows of densely packed teeth. Surrounding the maw were several long, whip-like appendages.
The disturbance in the sand earlier had likely been caused by those appendages dragging through the surface.
As if sensing the two of them, the worm tilted its head toward their crevice. Its grotesque mouth flared open, and from the center, it spat a spray of liquid.
The liquid splattered across the rock face, with a few stray droplets reaching their position.
Thankfully, Lin Wu’s shield remained active, and the shimmering energy field blocked the toxic spray. The liquid hissed upon contact, giving off a faint vapor.
Lin Wu’s brow furrowed as the defense meter on his weapon’s interface flickered.
“What is it?” Yu Xi asked.
“Poison,” Lin Wu said. “A strong one. The defense points dropped more than usual. If even a little of that hit bare skin, it’d be instant death.”
The creature’s immense, boneless body draped itself across the boulder beneath them. Half of its mass lay still, while the other half remained buried in the sand. It seemed to be resting, its massive torso rising and falling in slow waves.
But Yu Xi and Lin Wu knew better.
It was waiting—waiting for them to grow tired, hungry, or careless enough to leave the safety of the crevice. When that happened, it would strike.
In their rush to escape earlier, survival instincts had guided them more than any conscious strategy. Now that the situation had stabilized, they could take stock of their surroundings.
The mountain they were on was shaped like a natural arch. Unlike the reddish rocks they had seen near the desert’s edge, this formation was pale yellow and far more eroded. The landscape around them was scattered with isolated rock spires of various sizes. The gaps between these formations were too wide to jump across, ruling out the option of traveling from peak to peak.
The rock was barren, devoid of vegetation. Its steep surfaces were lined with fissures and cracks, many likely caused by years of wind erosion. Those cracks had been their salvation—without them, scaling the wall would have been impossible, no matter their skill.
Yu Xi peered upward, scanning the crest of the mountain, while Lin Wu kept his focus on the worm below.
The creature’s segmented, ridged body flexed with every shallow breath. The rings of muscle and tissue were reminiscent of an earthworm, but magnified to such grotesque proportions that the patterns made Lin Wu’s skin crawl.
“What the hell is that thing?” he murmured.
Yu Xi didn’t answer right away.
Lin Wu continued, his tone grim. “If you hadn’t warned me in time, even with my shield, that thing would’ve flipped our car like a toy.”
He glanced down at the faint scorch marks left by the worm’s electric discharge.
“And with the strength, poison, and electricity it has… it’s only a matter of time before it finds a way to get to us.”
“In my original world,” Yu Xi began, her voice low as she peered down at the creature below, “there are records in ancient texts about a creature called the Mongolian Death Worm. It’s said to live deep in desolate desert regions, about a meter long, with a shape resembling cow intestines. It’s described as highly venomous, capable of discharging electrical currents.”
She paused for a moment, adjusting her grip on the rock face. “But there’s never been any solid evidence proving its existence. It’s more of a folklore story, passed down through generations. Many people have claimed to encounter it in the desert… And that thing down there? It matches the description perfectly—except it’s been magnified countless times, and its attack power is terrifying.”
She shifted her focus downward, scanning the situation.
The two of them were currently positioned about midway up the left side of the arch-shaped rock formation. The sand surrounding the mountain’s base was clearly part of the worm’s hunting grounds. Going back down wasn’t an option—not even if the worm eventually retreated beneath the surface. There’d be no guarantee that it wasn’t still lurking somewhere nearby, just waiting to ambush them.
They couldn’t outrun it on sand. This desert was its domain, and if it managed to close the distance, not even Lin Wu’s shield would save them. The worm was large enough to swallow them whole.
Yu Xi shifted her gaze upward. “We need to climb to the top.”
Lin Wu didn’t question her. They both adjusted their climbing gear, double-checking harnesses and carabiners. Then, maintaining steady, deliberate movements, they began scaling the rock face toward the summit.
The worm didn’t let them go easily. Twice, it rammed itself against the mountain’s base, sending tremors through the rock. It also spat its toxic venom twice more, but their gear held strong, and Lin Wu’s shield absorbed the stray droplets that reached their position. After nearly an hour of methodical climbing, they finally reached the summit.
The peak stood between 250 and 300 meters high. The top was relatively flat but entirely isolated—no other rock formations connected to it.
Yu Xi pulled out her binoculars and scanned the horizon.
The black shadow they had been tracking to the north finally revealed itself more clearly. It looked like a massive structure with towering walls, taller than the mountain they were standing on. Its true shape remained uncertain, as they couldn’t see past it from this vantage point.
Stretching from their position to the distant shadow was a seemingly endless sea of golden sand. Beyond the immediate foreground, even the scattered rock spires grew scarce.
As she studied the desert surface more closely, she caught glimpses of faint, sinuous lines of sand rising into the air—identical to the trails left behind by the worm they had just escaped.
There were more of them.
She shifted her binoculars westward. The east appeared the same: an endless ocean of sand. But to the west, the desert thinned out, transitioning into more rocky terrain several kilometers away. There, she spotted jagged rock pillars, some of which had odd, unnatural shapes.
She lowered the binoculars, her thoughts racing. If only they had access to a low-altitude hovercraft. They could bypass the worm-filled desert entirely, crossing safely over the sands to the relative stability of the western plateau.
Her mind kept working through potential options.
Hover across the desert? No, not hover. Fly.
Yu Xi stood up, tilting her face into the breeze.
The wind had shifted slightly, blowing from the southeast to the northwest—just like it had the night before in the red-rock mountain range. If it maintained its strength, perhaps they really could “fly” across the sand.
**
Lin Wu’s face cracked into a half-grimace when he heard the word “wingsuit.”
He had military training, sure, and the system tower world had significantly enhanced his physical stamina. But the day’s events—outrunning the worm, the frantic climb, the sweltering heat—had left him thoroughly drained.
When Yu Xi proposed the plan, he had just finished stowing their climbing gear and was sitting with his back against the rock, catching his breath. Her suggestion hit him like a slap of cold water.
He unscrewed a water bottle, took a long drink, then poured the rest over his head, letting the cool liquid trickle down his overheated scalp.
“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice dripping disbelief.
Yu Xi didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she was busy adjusting the straps on the two wingsuits she had just retrieved from her storage space.
“Of course,” she finally said. “Look down there. We can’t stay here forever. The worm’s still waiting, and we don’t know how many more are hiding beneath that sand.”
Lin Wu followed her gaze. The worm was indeed still there, its crimson body partially coiled at the mountain’s base, its tendrils probing the air like antennae.
He exhaled heavily. “Wingsuits over a desert… Great.”
He had skydiving experience, but wingsuits were entirely unfamiliar territory. Still, Lin Wu understood the basic principles.
A wingsuit, or wingsuit flying, operated similarly to a glider, except that the human body itself became part of the wing structure. Asymmetrical arm positioning during flight could cause the flyer to flip mid-air, and direction was primarily controlled by shifting one’s legs to adjust pitch and yaw.
The parachute, located on the back, had to be deployed at precisely the right moment. A single miscalculation in timing or form could lead to catastrophic failure—and death.
From their current position, they were preparing for a low-altitude wingsuit flight, which was far more dangerous than a high-altitude one. However, both he and Yu Xi were task participants, which meant their physical abilities far exceeded those of ordinary humans. In the event of a crash landing, Lin Wu’s shield would absorb some of the impact, minimizing potential injuries.
The landscape itself offered a slight advantage. With no trees, buildings, or other obstacles in sight, their technique didn’t have to be flawless. As long as the wind maintained its strength, they should be able to glide safely across the deadly sand sea below.
The problem was their complete lack of wingsuit experience. With just a single practice run, they could probably master the basics. But perched atop an isolated peak with a colossal worm circling below, practice wasn’t an option. Their only choices were to climb back down and fight the worm—or take a leap of faith.
Lin Wu exhaled and rubbed his temples. The risk of flight was far lower than engaging in ground combat with an unknown number of deadly sand creatures.
“This height isn’t quite enough,” Yu Xi said suddenly. She pulled a slim metal rod from her spatial storage and wedged it into a crack in the rock. “To get enough lift, we’ll need stronger winds. Let’s wait a little longer.”
She secured a long, thin tissue to the rod as a makeshift windsock. The tissue fluttered lazily for a few seconds, then began to stretch horizontally in the growing breeze. Satisfied with the setup, she cleared a flat section of the summit, set up a camping chair and a foldable table, then took out a portable meal set.
“The sun’s about to set,” she added, pulling out two sets of chopsticks. “Let’s have dinner first.”
With a tap on her phone, the table was suddenly adorned with a spread of gourmet delicacies: foie gras sushi, Arctic surf clam sashimi, shrimp-avocado rolls, spicy clams, king crab Caesar salad, grilled eel rice bowls, and almond tofu for dessert.
Lin Wu, who had just been contemplating the life-or-death mechanics of their plan: …
**
If one ignored the sand monster lurking below, the view from the summit was breathtaking.
The sky stretched endlessly overhead in a serene expanse of deep blue. To the west, the horizon glowed in hues of orange and crimson, the sun sinking beneath distant dunes. From their vantage point hundreds of meters above the ground, the desert below looked vast, empty, and untouched. There wasn’t a single sign of human civilization.
Yu Xi smiled faintly, tilting her head as she gazed across the endless sands. For task participants like them, this place was quite literally another dimension.
The scorching heat of the day had begun to dissipate, though the evening chill hadn’t fully settled in. It was the perfect temperature for relaxation. Yu Xi leaned back in her camping chair, cradling a stainless steel cup of freshly brewed Dragon Well tea.
Lin Wu spent the first twenty minutes intermittently checking the wind direction and the sand below. The sight of the worm’s writhing, crimson coils still lingered in his mind. But gradually, he found himself mirroring Yu Xi’s calm, letting his nerves relax.
An hour passed.
The sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the desert bathed in dusky twilight. On the summit, the tissue they’d attached to the metal rod was stretched taut, fluttering in the now-steady wind.
Yu Xi packed up the table and chairs, then turned to Lin Wu with a night-vision headset in hand. “Your vision’s been enhanced too, right? Can you see clearly in low light?”
“No need,” he said, shaking his head. “I can see fine.”
She nodded and stowed the headset, then retrieved two wingsuits from her inventory. She’d bought multiple sets—winter and summer models—during a routine supply run. Given the night’s cooling temperature, the thicker winter gear would provide better insulation.
Yu Xi double-checked the suits’ zippers, straps, and parachutes. She’d listened carefully to the shopkeeper’s instructions at the time and later supplemented that knowledge with a few online tutorials. What she hadn’t expected was to need the equipment so soon.
The night wind intensified.
Suited up, the two of them approached the cliff’s edge. The drop was roughly 300 meters—about the height of a 100-story building.
“Stick close,” Yu Xi reminded him. “You go first. I’ll jump two seconds later so I can adjust my trajectory and follow directly behind you. If my chute fails, open your shield right before I hit the ground, okay?”
Lin Wu exhaled slowly. “Got it.”
He spread his arms and legs, positioning his body like a bird taking flight. The abyss below loomed vast and dark.
“Don’t hit any of those rock spires,” she added. “We’re not here to break records.”
Lin Wu shot her a dry look, then launched himself forward.
The wind caught him immediately, yanking him away from the ledge.
Yu Xi counted to two, then followed.
For two heartbeats, gravity took control, and she plummeted. Then the wind surged beneath the wingsuit’s fabric, and she felt herself lift. The acceleration was staggering—faster than a bullet train—propelling her forward at breakneck speed.
Air roared past her ears as she glided through the desert night.
The ground raced by beneath her, the sand dunes shrinking into a blur. She banked slightly, maintaining her trajectory behind Lin Wu’s silhouette. To her left, a sand plume rose into the air. One of the worms had surfaced, craning its head upward, but the creature couldn’t reach her.
She flew past towering rock formations and skimmed low over isolated boulders. The sensation was surreal—like a dream brought to life.
Below them, miles away on a distant rock outcrop, two figures scanned the desert through night-vision binoculars.
One of the sentries adjusted the lens, eyes widening as he tracked the two shadowy forms soaring across the sky.
“Shit,” he muttered. “I must be seeing things. Someone’s flying over the Death Sand Sea.”
“What?” His partner grabbed the binoculars. After a few seconds of stunned silence, he gasped. “They’re getting closer. Fast.”
“Is it some kind of advanced equipment?” the first sentry asked.
“No… Wait… I think…” The second man’s voice cracked. “I think they’re wearing wingsuits.”
“You’re kidding me!” The first man snatched the binoculars back.
A moment later, he cursed again. “Holy shit. It really is a wingsuit. And they haven’t even deployed their parachutes yet!”
The two sentries exchanged anxious glances.
“People like that,” one of them muttered, lowering the binoculars. “They’re usually bad news.”
“Good people don’t come knocking,” the man muttered, panic flashing across his face. “No… I need to go notify the boss!” He scrambled down from the rock, sprinting past a row of pillar-like, weathered structures and disappearing into the entrance of an underground stronghold.
**
The lowest recorded parachute deployment for a human being was said to be fifty meters. Yu Xi vaguely remembered reading that somewhere. Wingsuit parachutes differed from traditional skydiving chutes—but she wasn’t entirely sure how. She only knew one thing: at her current height and speed, deploying the parachute wouldn’t guarantee a safe landing. Her best bet was to aim for Lin Wu’s landing zone and let his shield absorb the impact. The parachute? Purely auxiliary.
The moment she yanked the ripcord, she felt as though an invisible hand had seized her from behind, yanking her backward with a violent jolt. The sudden deceleration nearly dislocated her shoulders.
But then the chute twisted unevenly. The fabric tilted, unbalancing her trajectory and sending her into a downward spiral.
Just as the ground rushed up to meet her, a translucent arc of light burst into existence beneath her—Lin Wu’s shield, spanning nearly fifty meters in diameter. The instant she hit the shield, her body seemed to hang weightless in midair for a second or two—long enough for her to stabilize her posture and brace herself for impact.
She hit the ground, rolled twice to bleed off momentum, then lay still for a moment, exhaling in relief.
No fractures. Not even a bruise.
Nearby, Lin Wu was sprawled across the ground, his weapon still gripped tightly in one hand. The shield had absorbed most of the impact, but he’d been worried her landing would go off-course, so he’d expanded the shield’s radius to its maximum range.
The cost? Every remaining defense point the shield had left. The glowing arc flickered twice, then vanished entirely.
Lin Wu was about to get up and slot in a new defense card when an arrow struck the ground between them with a sharp
thunk
.
An engine roared in the distance. A heavily modified pickup truck skidded to a halt a few meters away. The truck’s roof-mounted spotlight switched on, blindingly bright beams locking onto Yu Xi and Lin Wu.
The harsh light made it difficult to see the figures piling out of the truck. Yu Xi squinted. She could make out a central figure—a woman, judging by the silhouette—shorter than the others, wearing a snug leather jacket and pants with a wind-scarf loosely wrapped around her head. She carried a weapon slung casually over one shoulder and walked with an easy, predatory confidence.
The woman’s face was cast in shadow, but her voice rang out clearly when her companion spoke.
“Boss! They’re still alive! And they don’t even look hurt! That means… jackpot! I bet they’ve got some top-tier loot!”
The woman’s lips remained pressed in a neutral line, but the men flanking her lit up with excitement.
“Yeah! Did you see that landing? I saw it with my own eyes—they came flying across the Death Sand Sea! They’ve gotta have some crazy gear!”
“I’ve been asking for a decent gun forever, Boss! Can I have one if we get theirs? Please?”
“Shut up, moron. First, we gotta figure out what gadget let them survive that jump. Must be worth a fortune.”
Lin Wu quietly inserted a fresh defense card, the shield flickering to life around them once more. Yu Xi, meanwhile, took out a pistol and, without a word, fired a shot into the sand near the loudest man’s feet.
The bullet struck barely a centimeter from his boot, kicking up a puff of dust.
The man flinched but then burst into raucous laughter. “See?! I told you! They’ve got a gun! A gun! Boss, I want it!”
“Yeah, yeah, after me, idiot! Boss said I get first pick!”
The woman in the leather jacket finally snapped. She whipped around and smacked the loudmouth across the head with the back of her gloved hand.
“Enough! How many times do I have to tell you morons?” she growled. “We are not bandits. We’re the Mutual Aid Association. We
trade
with travelers. We
help
people.”
Yu Xi, who had been preparing to strike, froze mid-step.
Her eyes locked on the woman’s shadowed face. That voice…
“Boss, why me again?” the man whimpered, cradling his head. “Gou Dan and Pang Mao were yelling too—why don’t you hit them?”
The woman raised a hand toward the MP5 slung over her shoulder. “You wanna ask again?”
He paled. “N-no, Boss. I’m good.”
Satisfied, the woman turned and took a few steps toward Yu Xi and Lin Wu. The headlights illuminated her face, revealing sharp eyes beneath the loosely draped scarf and a faint, crooked smile on her lips.
“Relax,” she said, voice smooth but edged with amusement. “We’re not bandits, really. Just some honest desert folk. We provide services: shelter, food, and protection from the nasty things out here.” Her gaze shifted from Lin Wu’s shield to Yu Xi’s pistol. “Of course, nothing’s free. But we’re open to all kinds of payment—money, gear, info… You name it. If you’re interested, hop in the truck.”
Lin Wu tightened his grip on his weapon. But to his surprise, the woman beside him suddenly chuckled.
It was a genuine laugh—clear, bright, and completely out of place.
The warmth of it caught the desert crew off guard. One of the men muttered, “The hell’s she laughing for? Boss is a woman too. What, does she think flirting’ll get her a free meal?”
“Yeah,” another snickered. “If she pulled that with me, maybe. But the boss? No way.”
The woman with the scarf narrowed her eyes slightly. Something was off.
She’d met hundreds of travelers in this wasteland—desperate, nervous, or aggressive. But this one? This woman looked… relaxed. Amused, even.
“Something funny?” she asked.
Yu Xi stepped forward, lowering her gun slightly.
Her smile didn’t falter. Her eyes gleamed with knowing mischief.
“Tell me,” she said softly, voice carrying just enough for the woman to hear. “How’s your high-school boyfriend doing these days? You know, the one you never actually met in person?”
The woman’s smirk vanished.
Her entire body went rigid.
“…What?”
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