The warehouse they rented sat at the edge of the marketplace, a decrepit wooden structure that had once stored medicinal herbs before its previous owner died of "cultivation deviation".

  A polite local euphemism that could mean anything from "exploded during a breakthrough attempt" to "offended the wrong person."

  The landlord, a nervous mortal man with a pronounced squint, had been only too happy to accept their spirit stones and ask no questions. They didn't really look like the trader or businessman types, but money talks.

  "Thirty-seven meters to the target," Arthur announced, consulting the crude map Leo had sketched during his reconnaissance.

  "The weapon shop's vault should be right... here." He tapped a spot on the dirt floor.

  "We go down twelve meters, horizontal for thirty-seven, then up into their basement storage."

  Kevin examined the shovels Arthur had unpacked from his spatial ring. They looked ordinary enough, wooden handles, metal blades, but faint formation lines traced across the steel, barely visible unless you knew to look.

  "And these will actually work?"

  "Its how we our dug out own humble abode back home." Arthur hefted one proudly.

  "I copied it straight out of the ones from Walmart. Good thing I don't have to worry about patents here" He gestured vaguely at everything.

  Leo, who had been designated as lookout, peered out through a crack in the warehouse door. Even as the evening set in the marketplace bustled with activity; cultivators haggling over pills, merchants hawking spirit beast materials, a group of Qi Refining disciples from the Pond Gazing Sect strutting past like they owned the street.

  "How long is this going to take?" he asked?

  Arthur was already breaking ground. The formation-enhanced shovel sliced into the packed earth with an almost with a satisfying ease. Good stuff

  "three hours," Arthur said. "Maybe four. We work in shifts, reinforce the tunnel as we go, and by midnight we'll be swimming in Spiritual Ore."

  "What about the Pond Gazers?"

  "They gaze at the pond, Leo. You said it yourself. That's the whole point. They'll be too busy having their profound revelations or whatever to notice a little underground redistribution of wealth."

  Leo wanted to argue. Something about this plan felt too simplistic, they must have overlooked something important. But Arthur was already waist-deep in his hole, humming what sounded like a marching cadence, and Kevin had joined him with the second shovel, and Mike was reinforcing the tunnel walls with small formation flags and drawing new isolation formations.

  They had a system. They had equipment. They had a plan.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Four Hours Later

  Everything.

  Everything could go wrong.

  "I said LEFT!" Arthur's voice echoed through the tunnel, muffled by thirty-seven meters of earth and the growing sounds of chaos above.

  "The vault was supposed to be on the LEFT!"

  "Your map said right!" Kevin shouted back. "I followed the map EXACTLY!"

  "You held my map backwards! Who told you to read it from the back??"

  Leo scrambled backward through the tunnel, his robes catching on the rough walls, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his teeth. Behind him, the sounds of shouting had escalated into something that sounded distinctly like combat.

  They had not emerged in the Weapon Shop's basement vault.

  They had emerged in the private bathing chambers of Elder Zhao of the Pond Gazing Sect.

  Elder Zhao, as it turned out, did not exclusively gaze at ponds. Sometimes he took baths. Long, luxurious baths in a private underground chamber along with jade beauties who did not look like Mrs. Zhao at all.

  He had been mid-embrace with his sneaky link when the wall erupted and four dirt-covered figures came scrambling out like particularly ambitious moles.

  Arthur, emerging first, had taken one look at the naked Gold Core elder and immediately thrown a talisman at him. Not an attack talisman. A laundry freshening talisman. His instincts honed at Vietnam unfortunately weren't very useful if they didn't prepare the right grenade talisman beforehand.

  The Elder's robes, draped over a nearby stand, suddenly smelled aggressively of lavender.

  Kevin, emerging second, had collided with the surprised Mike, and pushed him forward, which resulted in both of them tumbling into the bathing pool with Elder Zhao.

  Mike at least had the good sense to pull out his AK and start firing. The sharp crack-crack-crack of automatic fire, impossibly loud in the enclosed space, followed by Elder Zhao's outraged roar and a sound like thunder condensed into a fist.

  "INSOLENT JUNIORS!"

  The tunnel shook. Dirt rained down on their heads

  "WHO DARES DISTURB THIS ELDER'S MEDITATION!"

  Elder Zhao's hand rose, spiritual energy coiling around his fingers like serpents preparing to strike. His divine sense exploded outward, ready to summon every guard, every disciple, every Gold Core True Person within a ten-mile radius.

  Then he stopped.

  His eyes darted to the woman cowering behind an overturned privacy screen. Then to the scattered rose petals. The expensive spirit wine. The distinctly non-marital atmosphere of his "private meditation chamber."

  Mrs. Zhao was a Peak Gold Core cultivator with a temper legendary even among the Pond Gazing Sect's elders.

  His hand slowly lowered.

  "You..." Elder Zhao's voice came out strangled, caught between murderous rage and dawning horror. "You will ALL DIE HERE. QUIETLY."

  Mike didn't waste time questioning why a Gold Core elder had suddenly decided against calling for backup. He rolled sideways as a palm strike shattered the tile where he'd been standing, came up with his AK already shouldered, and opened fire.

  The bullets sparked against Elder Zhao's hastily-raised spiritual barrier, each impact forcing the naked elder back a half-step. Not penetrating. Not even close to penetrating. But dangerous enough to pin him for a moment.

  Buying time.

  "RETREAT!" Mike bellowed, ejecting a spent magazine and slamming in a fresh one.

  "COLLAPSE THE TUNNEL! NOW!"

  Kevin was already scrambling backward, his hands shaking as he reached for the formation flags they'd planted along the tunnel walls. The isolation formations. The reinforcement formations. All carefully placed to ensure structural integrity during their heist.

  All capable of doing the exact opposite if triggered incorrectly.

  "This is YOUR fault!" Kevin screamed at Arthur, yanking out the first flag.

  "Your map! Your stupid backwards map!"

  "MY fault?" Arthur was pulling flags on the opposite wall, his face purple with indignation.

  "Who reads a map from the BACK? There's a GIANT ARROW pointing at the top! Have you never seen a map before?"

  "THE MAP LOOKS THE SAME FROM THE FRONT AND THE BACK. THE INK BLEEDS THROUGH"

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The tunnel behind them detonated.

  The first formation flag's explosion triggered a chain reaction. Isolation formations rupturing, reinforcement formations inverting, carefully balanced spiritual energies suddenly becoming very unbalanced very quickly.

  The tunnel collapsed in a rolling wave of destruction, earth and stone folding in on itself like a closing throat.

  Above them, buildings began to groan.

  The Weapon Shop, the one they'd actually been trying to rob, tilted ominously as its foundations suddenly found itself with significantly less ground underneath. A teahouse three doors down simply dropped, its first floor becoming its basement in the span of two seconds.

  Screams erupted from the marketplace above. The sound of shattering wood and crumbling stone mixed with the confused shouts of cultivators who had no idea what was happening.

  Another section collapsed behind them. Then another. The tunnel was eating itself, thirty-seven meters of careful excavation becoming a spreading sinkhole that swallowed everything above it.

  They burst into the warehouse basement, covered in dirt, gasping for breath, ears ringing from the explosions.

  Leo was already there.

  He was grinning.

  In his hands, catching the dim lamplight, sat two storage rings. High-quality golden bands, their surfaces etched with intricate formations that spoke of serious wealth and serious cultivation resources.

  "Elder Zhao," Leo said, "was very distracted."

  Arthur stared at the rings. Then at Leo. Then at the rings again.

  "You... when did you..."

  "When he was trying to kill Mike. His robes were on the stand. His storage rings were in his robes." Leo's grin widened. "He was very distracted."

  Arthur let out a howl that was half-laugh, half-sob. He grabbed Leo in a bear hug, lifting the fourteen-year-old off his feet and spinning him around despite the chaos still echoing from above.

  "HAHAHAHA! GENIUS! YOU BEAUTIFUL GENIUS!"

  He set Leo down and thrust his personal storage ring into Kevin's hands.

  "Take this. Take Leo. Get out of town and log off immediately. IMMEDIATELY. Do not stop, do not look back, do not loot anything else. Just run."

  Kevin didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed Leo's wrist and ran.

  They burst out of the warehouse into pandemonium. Behind them, the ground shuddered as Arthur detonated his cultivation base, turning himself into a powerful human bomb. The shockwave rippled outward, collapsing what remained of the tunnel system and sending a fresh wave of destruction through the already-destabilized marketplace.

  Deeper in the chaos, Mike felt the explosion wash over him. He understood immediately. Arthur was sending a signal: time's up, clean house.

  Mike looked down at his AK, the weapon that absolutely could not fall into local hands, and at his storage ring full of ammo. Mike had pinned Elder Zhao pinned in the corner, forced him to protect the Jade Beauty from Mike's stream of bullets.

  Mike grinned and followed suit.

  The second detonation ripped through the marketplace's eastern quarter. Three buildings collapsed entirely. Two more groaned and began folding inward. A small sinkhole opened in the central plaza, swallowing stalls, merchants, and one very confused spirit beast that had been for sale moments earlier.

  Cultivators ran in every direction. Some trying to help, some trying to flee, most simply standing in shock at the unprecedented destruction.

  Kevin and Leo slipped through the chaos like ghosts.

  Kevin's hand stayed locked around Leo's wrist, pulling the boy through crowds of panicking cultivators. The storage ring pressed against his palm, a reminder that this insane disaster had somehow, impossibly, succeeded.

  They reached the marketplace's edge.

  "HALT!"

  Two guards in Pond Gazing Sect colors materialized from a side street, hands already moving through combat forms. Foundation Establishment, both of them, their divine sense locking onto Kevin and Leo like targeting systems.

  "No one leaves until we..."

  They both logged off.

  ---

  The four-way encrypted Signal call connected with a soft chime. Arthur spoke first.

  "So let me get this straight. We tunneled thirty-seven meters in the wrong direction, burst in on a Gold Core elder doing the horizontal tango with his side piece, and somehow came out ahead? In my thirty years of military service I've never seen a plan go so wrong and so right at the same time."

  "Can we not call it horizontal tango," Kevin groaned.

  "What do you want me to call it? Making the beast with two backs? Playing hide the spiritual treasure? You young people are so sensitive." Arthur was clearly enjoying himself.

  "Rose petals everywhere, Kevin. Candles. Fancy spiritual wine. That man had a whole seduction setup. Back in my day we called that a love nest. Kids these days wouldn't recognize romance if it burst through their bathroom wall."

  "Minor in the chat," Mike said immediately. "Minor in the chat, Arthur, you said something about we came out ahead? What did we get?"

  "Ah, yes. The loot." Arthur's tone shifted to joy. "Two Gold Core storage rings. High-quality construction. Well protected. These things are worth more than everything we've taken in the last three months combined."

  "More importantly," Mike cut in, excitement bleeding through his frustration, "we can use them for the divine sense press! Genuine Gold Core level divine sense protecting those rings. And if the divine sense eventually wears out from Leo's training, it cracks the security and we get whats inside. Win-win!"

  "Joy," Leo said without enthusiasm.

  Arthur chuckled, then his tone turned sly. "You know, Kevin, maybe you could learn something from this old guy."

  "Learn what? How to get caught cheating?"

  "How to actually talk to women. Rose petals. Candles. Spiritual wine. The man had game. Meanwhile you can't even..."

  "Okay, I'm hanging up now."

  "I'm just saying, old guy got game"

  The call ended with a click.

  ---

  Earth

  Leo finally had a normal day as a high school student.

  After all, Kevin had agreed they needed to wait until at least tomorrow noon, midnight, Azure Profound Continent time, before attempting the next escape. Something about "letting the heat die down" and "not immediately returning to the scene of our mistakes."

  Leo's training had slowed recently, so showing up to class well-rested and in good spirits wasn't as shocking to his classmates as it might have been a month ago. He even managed to have a normal conversation with Tom during lunch.

  "You finally done being a NEET?" Tom asked, poking at his cafeteria rice bowl.

  Leo just sighed, thinking about the impending restart of divine sense training. The Gold Core storage rings were waiting for him. His skull was not looking forward to the reunion.

  "Maybe next year," he said in resignation.

  The afternoon brought History of Modern Cultivation, easily Leo's favorite class. Not only because he cared about the subject matter, but because Professor Harrison, the history teacher, was one of those teachers who could be derailed onto a tangent with the right question.

  Today's lecture was on the interwar period. Leo raised his hand.

  "Professor, I understand we're discussing how the unresolved questions of the First World Cultivation War directly led to the Second." He paused, letting the setup land. "But doesn't this sound familiar? Aren't we heading toward another great cultivation war right now?"

  Professor Harrison's eyes lit up.

  "An excellent question, Mr. Chen." He moved to the front of his desk, perching on its edge, his preferred position for tangents. "And one that the Ministry of Defense has been asking themselves for the past decade."

  He pulled up images on the screen display, swiping through archived images. Spirit trenches surrounding the Spacial Tunnels that connected the two worlds. Cultivators in primitive radiation suits charging through artillery barrages. The mushroom clouds tottering the Catacomb frontier like deadly flowers.

  "The First Catacomb War was, in many ways, a rude awakening for our enemies. They came through expecting sword cultivators and spell formations. Instead they faced rifles, artillery, and eventually..." He pulled up an image of a devastated Catacomb immortal fortress city, its walls melted into slag. "...the Great Atomic Qi Bombs."

  A few students shifted uncomfortably. The bombs were historical fact, but there was something uncomfortable about seeing the slaughter.

  "The Catacombs performed badly. Not because we were stronger in cultivation, we absolutely were not, but because they had no framework for understanding industrial warfare. No concept of mass production. No experience fighting enemies who could kill Deity Transformation cultivators with weapons operated by mortals." Harrison smiled grimly.

  "They adapted, of course. By the end, they were fielding their own artillery. Their own rifles. Crude copies, but functional. The Treaty of Great Restraint wasn't just about nuclear weapons, it was also an acknowledgment that we were teaching them too much, too quickly."

  He swiped to a new image. Modern Catacomb scouts, captured by reconnaissance drones just last year. They wore structured uniforms now. They carried weapons with recognizable stocks and barrels.

  "Thirty years of peace. Thirty years for them to study, replicate, and improve. When the next war comes, and it will come, the spirit veins in the Fallout Zone are almost ready for harvesting, they will not make the same mistakes. Expect rifles. Expect artillery. Expect formation-enhanced explosives that mimic our early atomic designs without triggering the Great Global Nonproliferation Formation."

  Leo leaned forward. This was better than anything in the textbook.

  "So what's our advantage?" another student asked. "If they've caught up with twentieth-century tech, what do we have?"

  Harrison's grim smile widened into something almost predatory.

  "Information technology."

  He pulled up a new display. Sleek quadcopter drones with formation-etched hulls. Swarm patterns rendered in glowing tactical lines. A civilian holding an Xbox controller, directing a drone from the comfort of his own home.

  "The military has been training drone forces for the past eight years. Hundreds of thousands of Qi Refiners around the world fly sorties daily."

  He flicked through more images. Drones fitted with spiritual rifles. Drones carrying formation-bombs. Drones small enough to slip through ventilation shafts, armed with nothing but cameras and poison dispensers.

  And he flicked through some short videos. A kid tearing open an Xbox on Christmas morning, face lit with joy. A teenager hunched over a controller, playing "Call of Drone Duty 2025." The packed stadium of last year's World Drone Championship, where a sixteen-year-old from Nebraska had commanded a his homemade drone to victory.

  "The Catacombs can copy a rifle. They can replicate artillery." Harrison gestured at the gaming images.

  "But they cannot copy this. They don't have our education system, nor our governance system. They cannot leverage their human resources effectively. The Catacomb system mirrors the Axis of Legacy Immortal Sects from the Second World Cultivator War, resources poured into elites and the talented, while the masses are kept uneducated and powerless so the old sects can cling to authority."

  He let that sink in for a moment.

  "Our advantage is that even the lowliest mortal, even one with no combat talent whatsoever, can make a meaningful contribution to the battlefield. They can pilot drones. They can process intelligence. They can drive supply trucks." Harrison's voice carried a note of genuine pride.

  "Just as True Monarch Napoleon raised the million-cultivator army, we too will leverage superior centralization and quantity. After all..."

  He paused, waiting for the class to complete the phrase.

  "Quantity has a quality of its own," a few students muttered in unison.

  Harrison nodded approvingly. Then his expression sobered.

  "Of course, doctrine and reality rarely survive first contact with the enemy. The Catacombs have resources we cannot match. Bodies we cannot match. Time we cannot match. If this becomes a war of attrition..." He shrugged.

  "Well. Let's hope the profit margins stay favorable."