Dawn broke over the battlefield like a reluctant promise—gray light filtering through smoke, turning the blood-soaked mud a dull crimson. Lin Hao moved among the dead with practiced slowness, dragging ordinary corpses toward the collection pits as the rest of Squad 7 grumbled and cursed the work.
Inside, he was buzzing.
Last night's haul had pushed him far beyond what this weak body should handle. Strength at 28, Vitality at 35—enough that the miasma barely tickled his lungs anymore. Lifespan sitting pretty at 142 years. He could feel the difference: steps surer, arms steadier, even the weight of a grown man's corpse felt like lifting a sack of rice.
But he kept his head down. Eyes dull. Shoulders slumped. The perfect picture of a half-dead harvester.
Can't let them see. Not yet.
Captain Wei—a scarred veteran with a limp and a perpetual scowl—barked orders from the edge of Sector 4.
"Move faster, you lot! Sector 5's got priority today. Word is a mid-tier immortal fell during the night skirmish. Glow's still bright—means good remnants. But stay clear of the core crater unless you want your flesh melting off."
The squad muttered. No one wanted to touch divine fallout. Even low-realm cultivators risked madness or mutation from prolonged exposure.
Lin Hao's ears perked up.
Mid-tier immortal. Bigger glow. Bigger numbers.
He volunteered quietly.
"I'll handle the edge of Sector 5, Captain. I'm... feeling better today."
Wei snorted. "Better? You look like death warmed over, same as always. Fine. Don't die. We short one man, I get flogged."
Lin Hao nodded meekly and trudged off alone.
The walk took twenty minutes. Past piles of mortal dead, past shattered weapons, until the air grew thick with residual energy. Sparks danced across his skin like static—uncomfortable, but his new Minor Miasma Resistance (Lv.1) dulled the sting.
Then he saw it.
A crater the size of a small house, edges glassy from heat. At the center lay the corpse: tall, armored in cracked jade plates that still shimmered with pale blue light. Face handsome even in death, long hair fanned out like ink. A sword—broken but radiating sword intent—protruded from his chest.
Mid-tier immortal. Foundation Establishment peak, maybe early Core Formation. Fallen in single combat against something even stronger.
Lin Hao's mouth went dry.
This... this is it. First real elite.
He glanced around. No one nearby. The squad was still clearing Sector 4. Distant shouts, but safe.
He approached slowly, heart hammering. Knelt beside the body. Extended a trembling hand—part act, part genuine nerves—and touched the armored shoulder.
The system lit up like fireworks.
[Harvested mid-tier immortal remnant (Foundation Establishment Peak)]
[+120 Strength]
[+95 Agility]
[+140 Vitality]
[+85 Soul Power]
[+820 Lifespan]
[Bonus: First mid-tier harvest – +30% attribute efficiency for 48 hours]
[Rare Drop: Fragment of Immortal Sword Intent (Passive) – Increases cutting power by 15%. Can be upgraded with more sword-type harvests]
[Milestone: First elite immortal harvested. Reward – Miasma Resistance upgraded to Lv.2 (20% reduction)]
Power crashed into him like a tidal wave.
Lin Hao gasped, collapsing to one knee as every cell screamed in ecstasy. Muscles swelled visibly under his ragged tunic. Bones creaked, densifying. His vision sharpened until he could count individual dust motes swirling in the air. Soul Power surged, making his thoughts razor-clear.
He opened his status.
[Host: Lin Hao]
[Strength: 148]
[Agility: 117]
[Vitality: 175]
[Soul Power: 97]
[Lifespan: 962 years, 19 days]
Nine hundred and sixty-two years.
From thirty-two to nearly a millennium in two days.
He laughed—low, shaky, euphoric. The sound echoed strangely in the crater.
This is insane. One body. Almost a thousand years.
He could feel it: the natural lifespan of this world extended, curses repelled, body evolving toward something... more. Immortal foundation forming unconsciously from the sheer volume of vitality.
But joy turned to caution fast.
Footsteps. Approaching.
Lin Hao snapped his head up. Two figures cresting the crater rim—squadmates from another group. Older harvesters, faces wrapped, eyes greedy.
"Look at that glow," one whispered. "Jackpot. Captain said no one touches the core, but... who's gonna know?"
The other grinned, pulling a small jade bottle. "We bottle some remnant qi first. Sell it black market. Then drag the body."
They started down the slope.
Lin Hao's mind raced.
If they see me here alone, looking... healthy... questions.
He couldn't fight openly—not yet. Too suspicious.
He quickly dragged a few mortal corpses over the immortal's body, covering the glow partially. Then slumped against the crater wall, pretending to be exhausted, breathing hard (though he barely needed to now).
The two reached the bottom.
"Oi, new kid from Squad 7," the first one said, squinting. "What're you doing here?"
Lin Hao rasped weakly. "Captain... sent me to scout edge. Got dizzy. Miasma hit hard."
They laughed.
"Figures. Weakling. Move aside—we're claiming this one."
Lin Hao shuffled back obediently, keeping his head low. But as they approached the body, he "accidentally" bumped one, knocking the jade bottle from his hand.
It shattered on a rock.
"You bastard!" the man snarled, raising a fist.
Lin Hao flinched dramatically—then "tripped" backward, rolling down a small incline out of sight.
While they cursed and searched for another container, Lin Hao circled around silently—new Agility making him ghost-quiet—and slipped away toward Sector 4.
Behind him, he heard them arguing over who got to report the find.
Let them have the credit. I got the real prize.
By the time he rejoined his squad, he looked appropriately filthy and worn again. Captain Wei barely glanced at him.
"Any trouble?"
Lin Hao shook his head. "Just... heavy lifting, sir."
Wei grunted. "Good. Keep at it."
Lin Hao smiled inwardly.
962 years. Sword Intent fragment humming in his soul. Attributes skyrocketing.
And the war was far from over.
Reports already whispered of a bigger clash tomorrow—reinforcements from the Void Frontier. More immortals. Maybe even a low-god avatar if things escalated.
More harvests.
Tomorrow, he thought, touching another ordinary corpse casually as he worked.
[+1 Vitality][+2 Lifespan]
Tomorrow I push for a thousand.
The battlefield stretched endless under the rising sun.
And Lin Hao—the weakest harvester—was already planning his next quiet fortune