SOLAK Chapter 3

In her old world, He Huan’s profession came with one very clear rule: never attack civilians without cause.

Of course, this wasn’t out of any noble sense of justice. Mercenaries weren’t exactly model citizens. The reason was simple—hurting civilians only brought trouble to the employer, and that meant lost business.

But in this world?

That rule clearly didn’t exist.

Otherwise, Yang Jianhua wouldn’t be dead, and these three wouldn’t be trying to backstab each other over his inheritance.

On her way here, He Huan had already gone through the original body’s information in detail.

The host body’s physical stats weren’t impressive. But upon entering this world, she had drawn two rather interesting skills.

Insight Eye – Passive skill. Allows the user to view the information of all creatures. Invalid against targets more than 10 levels higher.

Dark Creature (Level 1) – Passive skill. Move freely in the dark with no restrictions. After nightfall: all attributes +20%, all active skill proc chance +10%, encounter probability +5%. Can be upgraded upon meeting certain conditions.

Both passive. Both immensely useful.

Like right now.

When her gaze fell on someone, a neat panel popped up above their head: name, level, combat stats.

That was the work of Insight Eye.

And being able to clearly see the three men and the fine details of the cabin under near-total darkness—that was Dark Creature at work.

Ever since leaving her own shelter, she had noticed her night vision had sharpened drastically, and her movements in the dark felt swift and natural. All thanks to that passive skill.

As for the three men not far away—two of them she knew.

Well, “knew” through regional chat.

Zhao Yan and Sun Changgeng. The third was a stranger—Li Jian.

Insight Eye confirmed: all three were Level 3.

And He Huan herself? Level 2.

Level formed the foundation of strength. In every world, level suppression applied. This survival game was no exception.

But He Huan wasn’t afraid.

Yes, level was the base of power. But it wasn’t the whole picture.

In real combat, without experience, skill, and courage, even someone built like a fortress would crumble.

Watching these three men gleefully plotting how to divide up her “inheritance,” He Huan had only one thought—

If you’re not convinced, then fight.

Level 3? So what? Three Level 3s? Still so what?

If she killed them, she’d inherit three more estates.

If she failed, she’d just return to claim her pension.

Either way—she wouldn’t lose.

Li Jian, the one hacking at the cabin, suddenly froze with a prickle of unease.

Like a frog under a snake’s stare.

He whipped his head around, scanning the black forest.

But the night was too deep—he saw nothing. He frowned. “Did you guys feel… like someone’s watching us?”

Zhao Yan and Sun Changgeng immediately looked around, wary, but also found nothing.

“Quit talking nonsense. Hurry up and finish. Getting back to the shelter is what matters,” Sun Changgeng said.

“Exactly. It’s not even midnight yet. The real danger hasn’t started. Move it,” Zhao Yan said.

Seeing Li Jian still restless, Sun Changgeng tried to reassure him. “Relax. Normally no one comes out at night. You think everyone’s got the guts to—”

He didn’t finish.

Because at that moment, an enormous force slammed into his back.

He didn’t even have time to react before his body pitched forward and smashed into the cabin’s foundation.

Agonizing pain burst across his temple, leaving him reeling.

Before he could cry out or even understand what had struck him, something crashed down hard on his back—like a mountain crushing him, forcing the air and life out of his chest.

And then the blows began.

Heavy, relentless fists rained down on the weakest part of his neck.

It happened so fast.

Zhao Yan, closest to him, saw nothing but a blur flash past. The next instant, Sun was face down on the ground—

—and on his back sat a thin woman, fists hammering his neck like a jackhammer.

Sun Changgeng lay sprawled, barely able to struggle.

Shock lasted only a moment. Then both Zhao Yan and Li Jian’s first thought was—

They were being robbed.

Or rather, someone else wanted a piece of Yang Jianhua’s luxurious “inheritance.”

In the Night World, robbery was nothing new. Whoever had the bigger fist made the rules.

The two quickly evaluated He Huan.

A gaunt, malnourished young woman, clearly starving. She looked weak, fragile enough to snap in two. Even her punches looked soft and powerless.

Instantly, their confidence soared.

Forget level or stats—just judging by appearances, this was an easy win.

Three grown men versus one scrawny woman? Anyone with eyes knew how that fight would end.

They didn’t hesitate. Axes raised, they moved to surround her.

Their mouths spouted threats as they closed in.

“Who the hell are you! Get lost before we teach you a lesson!”

“Trying to rob us? Look at yourself—you deserve it? Run, or you’ll die so badly you won’t know how!”

“You want a cut? Fine. But you’d better offer something else in trade…”

…

Their axes gleamed in the starlight. Crude, stone-hewn, but deadly. Each survivor was given one upon entering this world. Slow against trees—but perfect for killing.

Their eyes burned with murderous intent.

Even if this woman had no loot as grand as Yang Jianhua’s, her death would still yield spoils.

Just as they readied to strike, He Huan calmly placed her palms against Sun Changgeng’s ears, cradling his head as if tenderly holding it.

And then—

With the lightest twist—

Crack.

The sharp, sickening snap rang out in the silent night, chilling to the bone.

A green glow burst forth.

That glow marked death.

In the Night World, every death released a beacon of green light, visible to all. After thirty seconds it would fade, but by then anyone nearby would know where to loot the fallen’s remains.

And in the pitch-black dark, that glow was impossible to miss.

Zhao Yan and Li Jian froze, stunned.

One heartbeat ago, Sun Changgeng had been under her fists.

Now he was gone.

All that remained was a spinning access card and a small pouch on the ground.

Sun Changgeng was dead.

He Huan rose slowly, turning her head toward Zhao Yan with a brilliant smile. “Now… who was it you just said wanted to die?”

In that instant, a suffocating aura crashed over Zhao Yan, pinning him in place.

He couldn’t even twitch. His throat rattled, producing a pathetic clicking sound—but nothing else.

What followed was both expected and not.

Zhao Yan was taken down in less than a breath. The world flipped, his body collapsing before he could process what had happened.

Li Jian—who had been further back—was already terrified after seeing Sun die. And now, watching Zhao Yan fall in an instant, he let out a strangled cry and bolted.

If it had been anyone else, maybe he’d have escaped.

But his opponent was He Huan.

And He Huan was a mercenary.

Not the kind who rose to fame on one or two flashy battles, but the kind who stayed alive—always—on the rankings.

Because in the mercenary world, only the ones who lived the longest proved themselves the strongest.

And He Huan had lived longer than anyone. Long enough to almost collect that legendary, sky-high pension.

For her, surviving had three secrets.

One, strike first.

Two, strike hard.

And three—the rule everyone knew—

Leave no roots behind.

Which meant—escaping from He Huan’s hands?

Not a chance.