Chapter Thirty-Four: The Rare Reason Behind High-Level Gunfighters

Only now did she notice the gauze wrapped around Lin Chuyin’s thin right shoulder, stained with fresh blood beneath. Beside her, a massive greatblade stood, its height surpassing even Lin Chuyin herself, embedded in the ground at a slant.

The ponytailed girl shook her head helplessly. “No one expected two golden beasts to appear. Our firepower couldn’t suppress them as planned, and the casualties are heavy… Fu Hui is tallying the losses, but… it won’t be a small number.”

As she spoke, she glanced around, her expression growing grave. Then, guilt flickered across her delicate features as she looked at Lin Chuyin. “Chuyin, I’m sorry. If it weren’t for me—”

“Enough. This has nothing to do with you. It’s the intelligence team’s fault.”

Lin Chuyin knew what she was about to say and cut her off without hesitation.

The girl paused, exhaled lightly, and said nothing more.

All around them lay chaos and devastation. Cries of pain and mourning echoed endlessly. The ground was littered with scorched shell casings, acrid with the mingled scents of gunpowder and blood. Dozens of deep, crisscrossing trenches marred the battlefield, their edges slick with fresh blood—evidence of the carnage wrought by the overwhelming force that carved them.

Severed limbs and mangled bodies were being gathered and counted. Many rushed to tend the gravely wounded, their efforts punctuated by anguished shouts and urgent commands. It was clear that a large-scale battle had just taken place here.

Taking in the scene, Lin Chuyin’s expression darkened further.

Half a month ago, her subordinates had discovered a golden-tier predator in this very place. She had swiftly assembled this team to hunt it down.

Golden beasts represented the absolute peak of power on a one-star battlefield—coveted by all. Only by consuming the flesh and blood of golden creatures could one hope to evolve to the golden tier… and even break through beyond.

Lin Chuyin was determined to claim this beast. She’d leveraged all her influence within the Celestial Palace. Everything had been meticulously planned. Victory seemed assured.

But at the pivotal moment, everything went awry.

Atop that Snowfall Cliff, it wasn’t a single golden predator waiting—it was two.

They’d discovered one and launched a coordinated assault, pinning it and its bronze- and silver-tier allies under relentless fire. All was going as intended. If only Luo Yu could fire that one bullet, the suppressed golden beast would almost certainly be slain on the spot.

But at that critical instant, a second golden predator swooped down from the cliff, shattering their formation. No one had anticipated a second golden beast. Their concentrated fire was suddenly split, giving the pinned beast a chance to recover.

Worse still, this happened the moment Luo Yu pulled the trigger. Her carefully primed gene shell struck the creature’s chest instead of its head.

Because it hadn’t been a fatal shot, the beast was gravely wounded but not killed outright. That single difference tipped the entire battle toward chaos.

Two golden beasts—and a host of silver- and bronze-tier predators—burst forth, overwhelming the team. Their firepower was no longer enough to keep the enemy suppressed, and casualties mounted instantly.

Lin Chuyin had foreseen the risk of retaliation from a golden predator and had a contingency in place. But the presence of a second golden beast rendered all preparations insufficient. Elite squads responded instantly, but even so, the losses were immense.

Even she herself had been struck by the second golden beast, sustaining a wing slash to her shoulder.

In the end, the second golden beast whisked the wounded one back up to Snowfall Cliff, while her team was left battered, their ammunition depleted.

This operation was, by all accounts, a total failure.

Given the regenerative vitality of golden beasts, even a devastating gene shell wound would heal with a little time. By then, with their medicine exhausted and their numbers decimated, her team would stand no chance against both golden predators and their retinue of bronze- and silver-tier beasts.

“If only I were a professional gunfighter. If we’d had just one golden—no, even a silver-tier professional gunfighter, we’d have found a way to take them out, even if they holed up in their lair!” Luo Yu, the ponytailed girl, spoke bitterly.

Lin Chuyin exhaled and shook her head. “A silver-tier gunfighter… Do you know how rare that is? Gunfighters evolve much more slowly than other professions; you know that. In the entire Celestial Palace, only Leng Xiran is a silver-tier gunfighter. But I would never ask her for help!”

At the mention of Leng Xiran, a flash of anger crossed her eyes—clearly, their relationship was strained.

“That’s right. Evolution relies heavily on adrenaline as a catalyst. Gunfighters are always long-range, needing the whole team’s protection. Under those circumstances, how can they frequently trigger enough adrenaline themselves? Missing that crucial catalyst, their evolution is much harder than it is for close-combat fighters…”

Luo Yu smacked her lips, frustrated.

The Age of Evolution had revealed many secrets about genetic advancement. For example, adrenaline played a vital role in the process. High-frequency, sustained adrenaline surges made it easier to absorb primal gene energy and thus elevate one’s life tier.

This was precisely why close-combat fighters evolved more easily than gunfighters. For gunfighters, even the thrill of a kill couldn’t compare to the visceral danger of going toe-to-toe with a battlefield beast.

As a result, high-tier gunfighters were exceedingly rare.

People had considered other methods—like starting as melee, then switching to gunfighter at a higher tier—but the cost was prohibitive. Gene seeds could be implanted or extracted, but the latter was far more expensive and could even cause lasting harm, possibly damaging one’s genetic foundation.

No one wanted to take such a risk.

Think about it: once you’d reached the silver or even golden tier as another profession, who would foolishly pay a fortune to extract well-honed gene skills and risk injury or worse just to become a gunfighter?

Only a fool would do that.

After all, the ultimate purpose of evolution wasn’t to become a particular profession—it was to elevate one’s life, to gain more time and more power to survive.

Gunfighters were strong, but only under certain circumstances or in particular terrains. In most cases—especially from the standpoint of battlefield survival—they were the weakest among all evolved fighters.

Speed, strength, gene vitality… in all these, gunfighters lagged far behind the rest. Their sole advantage was range. Nothing more.

Besides, the golden tier was far from the end of evolution. It was only the beginning. Even if you became a golden-tier gunfighter, so what? Once you left the one-star battlefield for a two-star, or even higher, would you still rely on the same methods?

The higher the tier, the greater the price to change professions—sometimes unbearably so.

Thus, from very early on, every evolver had to plan their professional path carefully. Only then could they make the most of their efforts.

“Chuyin, what do you plan to do next?” Luo Yu looked at Lin Chuyin.

As the organizer of the operation, Lin Chuyin was responsible for all decisions. She frowned at the ravaged battlefield, pressed her lips together, and said, “We’ll wait for the casualty report. In any case, we can’t just leave like this.”

Having spent so much effort and suffered such losses, she would never slink back in defeat. If she did, the team would mock her openly and in secret—something her proud heart could never accept.

No matter what, she had to bring back at least one golden beast.

The thought took root in her mind. Even if it was dangerous… she felt it was worth the risk.