Following Aragorn’s advice, the company nevertheless set out from Bree that very day, heading east. It would take a full seven days of travel to reach the Elven capital of Rivendell from Bree.

Aragorn also had a mount, and he had assumed that the three dozen or so members of the three Reincarnation Squads would also have mounts. To his surprise, however, only Zheng Zha had a steed; everyone else was on foot. He had no choice but to lead his own horse along, explaining that Bree was too small a village to procure over thirty horses. Of course, the steed belonging to Zheng Zha gave him quite a shock.

Aragorn was a connoisseur, and he immediately exclaimed, “A Fell Beast, a Fell Beast! You actually stripped a steed from a Ringwraith—hah! This is a fine thing, though it can only be ridden by a Battle Mage.”

“It’s a magical life form created by Battle Mages during the Second Age of Middle-earth. The method of its creation has long been lost. It’s just that I don’t know where the Dark Lord learned how to make such mounts. Thus, after its physical body was destroyed,”

“He created nine Fell Beasts for the Ringwraiths to use in battle. With these mounts, the Ringwraiths were invincible…” Zheng Zha knew he had taken a great advantage. He chuckled, then pulled the reins, sending the skeletal warhorse galloping. The horse’s appearance was so stunningly cool it defied description, radiating a blood-red mist from its entire body.

Its hooves and eyes burned with crimson flames. Countless people among the three Reincarnation Squads stared, their eyes wide, and even Aragorn could not help but sigh in admiration repeatedly.

A mount possessing such extreme speed and the trait of ignoring gravity was something every warrior dreamed of possessing.

And so, under the escort of Zheng Zha’s dazzling mount, the group left Bree and pressed on toward Rivendell.

Zheng Zha, however, seemed to have grown fond of displaying his magnificent presence. He held the reins in one hand and the semi-transparent, crimson Tiger Soul Blade in the other, making him appear to possess boundless combat prowess.

Chu Xuan’s expression seemed utterly dismissive. His gaze flickered over Zheng Zha twice before he turned his attention to the members of the other two Reincarnation Squads. There seemed to be something else mingled in his look; those he observed often felt a chill creep over them, like a frog fixed by the stare of a viper.

Thus, the company traveled peacefully for three days. Since the Ringwraiths had returned to Mordor, even at their speed, a round trip would take over ten days, so with no immediate danger, the group was not rushed. Aragorn, too, seemed to be awaiting someone, often standing on high ground, gazing eastward. Three days passed uneventfully until that moment finally arrived…

“We’re here. Is this the world of the Lord of the Rings?” A handsome man with long hair stood smiling at the edge of a precipice. Behind him were fourteen men and women; excluding three of them, the remaining eleven looked utterly bewildered, questioning their surroundings in confusion. The only answer they received was ‘unknown,’ plunging the eleven into immediate chaos.

These fifteen stood atop a snow-capped mountain, surrounded by sheer cliffs, seemingly with no way out. Though it wasn't actively snowing, a thick layer of white accumulated on the ground. Only the man standing at the cliff’s edge seemed unaffected by the snow layer; strangely, he stood right on the snow’s surface, not sinking in at all.

“…This is troublesome. It seems we have five teams fighting this time. Does the Mid-Continent Team refer to mainland China? Or perhaps the ancient Central Plains region? Interesting… And the Celestial God Team? The Celestial God Team? Heh heh…” The long-haired man turned around. Though he remained smiling, his eyes were utterly cold, sharp as a gleaming dagger capable of easily piercing a heart.

“Zhao Zhuikong, you are the new captain recognized by the ‘Main God’ after leaving the Celestial God Team. Do you have no suggestions regarding the current situation?” a beautiful girl asked, hands on her hips. She wore two long, gleaming swords at her waist, resembling a dual-blade warrior.

The long-haired man named Zhao Zhuikong suddenly burst into laughter. With a flicker, he instantly appeared behind the beautiful girl. In his hand, he held a severed head—the head of the girl, whose face wore an expression of surprise, disbelief, and terror. Only a second or two later did her headless torso begin to spurt blood upwards.

“…I recall saying this before: don't assume you belong to me just because we shared intimacy… Relatively speaking, the capacity required to kill you is insufficient compared to the capacity required to kill our comrades. Therefore, you have absolutely no right to speak to me this way. Where did you get the courage?” Zhao Zhuikong smiled down at the head in his hand, then pulled it closer and slowly kissed it. Kissing a dripping head like this made the ten terrified individuals scream in horror. However, trapped on a sheer cliff, they had nowhere to run.

With a flick of his hand, Zhao Zhuikong instantly reduced the head to pulp, which he then tossed over the cliff. Not a single drop of blood stained his hand. Once everything was done, he smiled at the other two composed figures. “The usual rule… the first thing we do in a team battle is eliminate all the newcomers in our own team. Look, we’ve taken an eleven-point penalty… We need to kill eleven people to survive. Heh heh. Testing the limits of one’s power this way, testing one’s capacity—only games like this are truly fun, aren’t they? Why aren't you two saying anything?”

If one looked closely at these two—a burly white man wielding a long spear and a young black man holding a circular wheel—their hands and feet were trembling. As Zhao Zhuikong finished speaking, they roared and lunged at the newcomers. The spear thrust forward, the wheel spun out, and within ten seconds, all eleven newcomers lay dead by their hands. The two didn’t even dare take a deep breath, merely turning back to Zhao Zhuikong in silence.

Zhao Zhuikong smiled in satisfaction. He turned back toward the cliff face and, after a long pause, finally spoke, “Let’s first find a way to confirm our location, then perhaps secure a critical spot from the movie plot. Or we could head to Mordor and wipe out every creature there. What are your opinions?” Both remained silent. After another long pause, the white man carefully ventured, “Perhaps… perhaps we should find a human village first. If you kill all the creatures in Mordor, those teams might complete their missions too easily. So, shouldn’t we see how much they struggle? Wouldn't that be more interesting than just slaughtering them?”

“Watching the struggles and potential growth of the weak? Heh heh… That is quite the delightful diversion. Watching the fruit slowly ripen from green to mature, and then crushing it in one’s hand… Very well, let’s find a human village first and figure out where we are. A disclaimer: no random killing on the way. If we are to watch a play, we must adhere to the rules we set for ourselves, don't you agree?” Zhao Zhuikong smiled back, then simply lifted a foot and leaped off the precipice. He carried nothing but the clothes on his back, vanishing into the bottomless chasm.

Only after Zhao Zhuikong had disappeared did the two finally let out a sigh of relief. They exchanged a wry look, and the black teenager immediately said, “That Psychic Controller finally appeared… Captain, you killed her too easily.”

Zhao Zhuikong replied with a friendly smile, “It’s fine, it’s fine. The ‘Main God’ constantly sends team members of a certain type, so replacements will arrive soon enough… Let’s go, find a human village.”

With that, he walked off smiling in a certain direction, though the ice in his smiling eyes remained palpable.