The night was like ink, swallowing the ruins of the Iron Hand Gang’s base.

  Kane and Crag did not take the main road.

  They detoured nearly ten kilometers, weaving through the wilderness before approaching the outer perimeter of the canyon where the Stoneborn tribe was located.

  Even so, Kane did not enter immediately.

  He found a rocky hill with an excellent vantage point, shed his heavy backpack, and signaled for Crag to rest in place.

  He himself merged into the darkness, silent as a civet cat.

  One hour.

  A full hour.

  Like the most patient of hunters, Kane used a monocular to repeatedly confirm every high ground around the canyon.

  He checked every shadow that could possibly conceal a scout.

  He even risked creeping to a closer distance to probe those seemingly ordinary rock crevices.

  He searched for any electronic eyes or sensors that might belong to Kunlun Corp.

  The cold profile of Commander Andrew Zoe remained a lingering shadow in his mind.

  He knew.

  The appearance of a Stoneborn giant would inevitably point Kunlun Corp’s investigation in this direction.

  Fortunately, there was nothing.

  Perhaps Kunlun Corp’s investigation teams hadn't had time to spread across such a vast area yet.

  Or perhaps, they underestimated the mobility of these "primitive tribes."

  Only after confirming it was safe did Kane return to Crag’s side.

  Crag’s injuries were severe.

  Morris’s chainsaw possessed terrifying destructive power; the wound on his shoulder was deep enough to see bone.

  The dark-red, magma-like blood had already coagulated, but his massive frame still radiated a decaying heat.

  He leaned against the rock wall, his chest rising and falling weakly, like a dying behemoth.

  "Move."

  Kane wasted no words.

  He had Crag lie prone on the ground, then crouched down and pressed both hands against Crag’s broad back.

  [ Phase Burrow ]!

  A pale green light spread from Kane’s palms, instantly enveloping Crag’s massive frame of over two and a half meters.

  The next second, the two figures—along with the mountain of loot—sank into the hard rocky ground together.

  They didn't make a sound.

  The world beneath the earth was one of darkness and silence.

  With such a massive "attachment" in tow, Kane’s consumption was far greater than usual.

  But his face remained expressionless as he precisely identified the direction, maneuvering toward the core area of the tribe.

  ...

  When Kane and Crag’s figures quietly surfaced from the ground of the central tribal plaza.

  The few Stoneborn warriors on patrol were startled at first, then erupted into earth-shaking cheers!

  "It's Crag!"

  "Crag is back!"

  The cheers roused the entire sleeping tribe.

  Stone doors were pushed open one after another, and tall figures stepped out from their caves.

  Men, women, and children—their faces were written with the relief of survivors and the joy of seeing their kin return.

  Elder Granite, leaning on a bone staff and supported by several young clansmen, walked over quickly.

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  His gaze immediately landed on Crag's gruesome injuries, a flash of grief flickering in his clouded eyes.

  But he did not step forward right away.

  His vision moved past everyone else, landing on the thin figure standing beside Crag who looked somewhat out of place.

  The young man carrying a massive rucksack, covered in blood, yet possessing eyes that remained as vigilant as a lone wolf of the wasteland.

  "Crag." Kane's voice wasn't loud, but it reached Crag's ears clearly.

  Crag understood.

  Dragging his heavily injured body, he carefully brought out the crystal burning with a warm red glow from his chest.

  The Tinder Crystal!

  As that warm radiance once again illuminated the canyon shrouded in gloom, all cheering stopped.

  The entire tribe fell into a devout, fervent silence.

  Every Stoneborn, young and old alike, slowly knelt on one knee and touched their foreheads to the ground.

  That was their lost totem.

  The source of their tribe's life!

  Crag stepped toward Elder Granite, solemnly placing the Tinder Crystal into the elder's withered hands.

  Granite’s hands were trembling.

  He held the crystal high and let out a desolate, distant chant in the ancient tribal tongue.

  Woooong—

  As if answering a call, the Tinder Crystal flared with light.

  A majestic, warm wave of life energy rippled outward, enveloping the entire tribe.

  The hidden injuries and exhaustion of all the clansmen slowly dissolved under the radiance.

  The horrific wound on Crag’s shoulder stopped bleeding and began to close at a pace visible to the naked eye.

  A scene of jubilation.

  Kane stood outside the crowd, watching it all with a cold detachment.

  His finger never left the grip of The Cyclone at his waist.

  He wasn't used to this kind of commotion.

  Even less did he believe in such cheap collective emotion.

  Once the clamor subsided, Elder Granite entrusted the crystal to the protection of the tribe's strongest warriors and walked straight to Kane.

  "Thank you, my friend," Granite’s voice carried sincere gratitude. "The Stoneborn owe you a massive debt."

  "It was just a trade."

  Kane’s reply was as cold as ice. "He drew the fire for me, I helped him get his thing back. It was fair."

  Granite looked at him deeply but did not argue.

  "What are your plans now?"

  "Survive. Get stronger." Kane was concise; he didn't want to waste a single word.

  He had already obtained what he wanted.

  The Iron Hand Gang’s wealth, two weapons with decent power, and the promise of a temporary ally in Crag.

  This cooperation ended here.

  His path was destined to be a solitary one.

  Revenge against Kunlun Corp was a dark tunnel with no visible end.

  He didn't want to—and couldn't—drag anyone else along.

  Granite seemed to see through his thoughts.

  "Let Crag follow you."

  Crag snapped his head up toward the Elder, his eyes filled with confusion.

  Kane’s brow furrowed.

  "I’m used to being alone." He refused directly.

  This wasn't a polite rejection; it was the truth.

  One more person meant one more weakness.

  Especially when facing a titan like Kunlun Corp, even the slightest emotional tether could become a fatal flaw.

  "No." Granite shook his head, his tone more serious than ever before. "You are wrong."

  "The world is about to change. No matter how strong your individual power is, you are only a sharp blade. Blades break easily."

  "You need a shield. A shield that can block every fatal strike for you, so you can swing your blade without hesitation."

  Granite turned his gaze to Crag.

  "And Crag is the sturdiest, most trustworthy shield you will ever find."

  He looked back at Kane, his eyes glimmering with a profound depth of wisdom that seemed out of place in this primitive tribe.

  "And we, the Stoneborn, need a blade. A blade that can carve a path of blood for us through the coming storm."

  "Take Crag with you, and the Stoneborn tribe will become your staunchest ally. All our ores, our herbs, and the forging techniques passed down through our generations will be open to you."

  Kane fell silent.

  His heart gave an unbidden thrum.

  He looked into Elder Granite’s eyes, filled with wisdom and resolve, then at Crag, who stood nearby—confused, yet possessing a gaze of absolute steadfastness.

  He had to admit, every word out of the old man’s mouth struck a chord.

  On the path of vengeance, he truly did need a "shield" he could trust with his back.

  And an "ally" like the Stoneborn sounded genuinely valuable.

  "Fine."

  Kane finally squeezed the word through his teeth.

  Late night.

  Inside Elder Granite’s cave.

  "Elder, why?" Crag finally voiced his confusion. "My mission is to protect the tribe."

  "Following him is truly protecting the tribe."

  Granite’s voice was weary, yet his logic was exceptionally clear.

  "Crag, you saw it. A single Iron Hand Gang nearly destroyed us. What about Kunlun Corp? The Blackrock Security Division? There are too many powers in this world far greater than the Iron Hand Gang."

  "The world is like a dark forest. We Stoneborn hide in our valley, thinking we are safe. But the storm is coming, and no tree will be spared."

  "We are too weak; we have no right to choose. We either get crushed by the storm, or... we find a sapling most likely to grow into a towering giant and bind ourselves to it before the storm arrives."

  Granite looked at Crag. "That young man, Kane, is that sapling."

  "I cannot see through him, but I can feel a beast hidden inside his body that even he cannot control. His future is limitless."

  "And it isn't just about betting on him. I want you to follow him to temper yourself, to grow stronger. That is the only way to protect the Stoneborn."

  Crag remained silent for a long time.

  Then, he gave a heavy nod.

  The next morning.

  Kane received his Basilisk Stone Armor, now fully repaired.

  Not only that, but the Stoneborn craftsmen had reinforced the joints with a flexible metal, boosting both its defensive capabilities and flexibility by a tier.

  The tribe provided them with ample supplies.

  Kane stuffed the massive Rocket Punch and the chainsaw into his exaggeratedly large rucksack.

  Crag took the initiative to shoulder all the remaining supplies.

  There was no grand send-off ceremony.

  Only Granite and a few tribal warriors stood silently at the canyon's entrance.

  "This is heavy." Crag walked over to the Rocket Punch and hoisted it onto his shoulder with one hand.

  He repeated the words from yesterday to Kane.

  His voice was raspy, yet unshakably firm.

  Kane glanced at him and said nothing more.

  He simply moved some of the heavier items from his own pack over to Crag’s load.

  He knew.

  This giant was expressing his deepest gratitude and commitment in his own way.

  The two finished clearing their traces and did not linger for a moment longer.

  Kane in front, Crag behind.

  Facing the first rays of morning light rising over the wasteland, the two figures—one tall, one short—quickly vanished into the rolling black mountain range.

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