Chapter 165: THE HEROES HAVE ARRIVED

Chapter 165 — THE BUZZER YOU FORGOT

The cave felt different now.

Not because Zehell had retreated.

Not because the pale plane had shattered.

But because reality had returned with weight.

Cold stone beneath his palms.

The metallic scent of dust and fractured earth in the air.

The faint echo of something ancient still humming in the walls.

Long Hao lay there for several seconds, staring up at the uneven cavern ceiling.

His breathing was ragged.

His chest burned where the fragment had almost been torn out.

The Dean stood ten meters ahead, robes settling back into stillness as if he had merely walked across a courtyard instead of splitting reality open with light.

Long Hao forced himself onto his elbows.

His voice came out hoarse.

“Dean…”

The man didn’t turn immediately.

He stood with one hand loosely behind his back, gaze directed toward the deeper darkness of the cave where Zehell’s presence still lingered faintly.

“How are you here?” Long Hao asked.

“And what just happened right now?”

The Dean let out a quiet scoff.

Then finally glanced over his shoulder.

“What are you thinking, brat?” he said, almost offended.

“Of course I’m here to save you.”

Long Hao blinked.

His mind was still fogged from soul pressure and emotional collapse.

“What— how?”

The Dean narrowed his eyes slightly.

“You pressed the buzzer.”

Silence.

“You don’t remember?”

Long Hao’s brows pulled together.

Buzzer?

Something stirred faintly in the back of his memory.

But it felt distant.

Buried.

“I didn’t press anything,” he muttered.

The Dean’s lips curved faintly.

“Memory damage again?”

He sighed lightly.

“Looks like you broke your own brain one too many times.”

Long Hao tried to stand, his legs unstable.

The Dean didn’t help him.

He waited.

Because this was not a rescue for the weak.

This was reinforcement for someone who still had to stand.

“Think,” the Dean said calmly.

“One day before the final round of the Battle Royale.”

The words struck something.

A shift in memory.

One Day Before the Finale

It had been late.

The arena grounds quiet for once.

Most participants resting.

Strategizing.

Nursing wounds.

Long Hao had been alone in the outer courtyard, bandages still wrapped around his ribs.

The assassination attempt had happened hours earlier.

Clean.

Precise.

If not for instinct and reflex, the blade would have ended him.

He stood by the railing overlooking the dim academy grounds when footsteps approached.

The Dean.

No fanfare.

No announcement.

Just presence.

“You look worse than you admit,” the Dean had said.

Long Hao did not bow.

Did not exaggerate respect.

“Still alive,” he answered.

The Dean studied him longer than usual that night.

“Someone wants you dead,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You’re not surprised.”

“No.”

The Dean stepped beside him, resting his elbows casually against the railing.

“Good.”

A moment passed.

Then the Dean reached into his inner robe and pulled out something small.

Metallic.

Circular.

About the size of a coin.

A faint azure symbol etched into its surface.

“This,” the Dean said, pressing it into Long Hao’s palm, “is a buzzer.”

Long Hao looked down at it.

“Whenever you press this,” the Dean continued, “I will come.”

The words had been simple.

Unadorned.

Long Hao’s eyes flickered up.

“Why?”

The Dean snorted softly.

“You think I invest in talent just to watch it die?”

A pause.

Then the Dean’s tone shifted slightly.

“But remember this.”

His gaze sharpened.

“This is only for completely dangerous situations.”

“Only when you have no control over your life.”

“Only when your life is in immediate threat.”

He tapped the coin once with his finger.

“If you misuse it…”

Long Hao raised an eyebrow.

“You won’t answer?”

The Dean smiled faintly.

“I will.”

The implication was clear.

But so was the condition.

“This is not for pride.”

“Not for stubbornness.”

“Not for testing limits.”

“It is for the moment you truly cannot survive alone.”

Long Hao closed his fingers around the coin.

It felt heavier than it should have.

“I won’t use it,” he had said.

The Dean’s eyes gleamed faintly.

“Let’s hope not.”

And then he had walked away.

Back to the Cave

Long Hao’s eyes widened slightly.

His hand moved instinctively to his waist.

Nothing there.

No coin.

But he remembered it now.

Vaguely.

“…I never pressed it,” he said.

The Dean crossed his arms.

“You did.”

“When?”

Long Hao shook his head.

“I don’t remember.”

The Dean exhaled slowly.

“Then remember properly.”

The Hospital Illusion

The first time Zehell had dragged him fully into the illusion world.

The hospital room.

The sterile white light.

The machines beeping rhythmically.

His body on the bed.

Ventilator humming.

Zehell older.

Softer.

Calling him darling.

He had been confused.

Disoriented.

Half believing.

Half rejecting.

And then—

The blank-faced daughter.

The projection.

The child whose face he could not see.

The moment his heart tightened with something unfamiliar.

Hope.

And fear.

Zehell’s voice had been gentle.

Too gentle.

“Everything is alright.”

“Stay.”

The room had felt warm.

Comforting.

Tempting.

But beneath the comfort—

Something was wrong.

The air was too perfect.

The timing too structured.

His instincts had flared faintly.

Danger.

He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t speak properly.

His body in that hospital bed had twitched.

Weak.

Barely conscious.

But inside—

Something had responded.

His fingers had twitched slightly against the bedsheet.

Beneath his palm—

The coin.

The Dean had hidden it within his spatial storage artifact.

Bound to his soul signature.

Activated by intent rather than physical pressure.

In that hospital illusion—

When Zehell’s manipulation deepened—

When the world began folding around him—

His subconscious screamed.

Immediate threat.

Loss of control.

Death of identity.

And without conscious awareness—

His soul pressed the signal.

A pulse.

Silent.

Invisible.

But real.

The buzzer activated.

Back to the Cave

Long Hao’s eyes widened fully now.

“I…”

He staggered slightly.

“I pressed it.”

The Dean nodded once.

“Subconsciously.”

“You were drowning.”

“So I came.”

Long Hao let out a slow breath.

But confusion still lingered.

“That was… days ago.”

The Dean glanced toward the cave entrance.

“You think space works linearly when an Anchor is involved?”

A faint distortion flickered in the air.

“She shifted planes.”

“I traced the signal.”

“Found the interference.”

“Waited.”

The Dean’s gaze hardened slightly.

“You were on the edge.”

Long Hao swallowed.

“And if I hadn’t pressed it?”

The Dean looked at him evenly.

“You would not be standing.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then—

A ripple.

The air in the cave warped again.

Black and gold threads stitched themselves into existence at the far end.

Zehell’s form began reforming slowly.

Her eyes glowed brighter than before.

“You think reinforcement changes outcome?” she asked calmly.

The Dean stepped forward.

“It changes probability.”

Zehell’s gaze shifted to Long Hao.

“Probability favors structure.”

Her aura expanded again, heavier this time.

The cave walls cracked under pressure.

Long Hao felt it instantly.

The difference.

The Dean was powerful.

Unquestionably.

But Zehell—

Was not merely powerful.

She was systemic.

Even a ninth-tier superhuman—

Even someone like the Dean—

Was not equal to origin.

The Dean raised his hand again.

Light gathered instantly.

But this time—

Zehell did not allow preparation.

The ground beneath them fractured.

Black-gold tendrils burst upward like roots of authority.

The Dean sliced through the first wave effortlessly.

But more emerged.

Faster.

Long Hao clenched his fists.

He could not just watch again.

“Stand up, brat,” the Dean said without looking back.

Long Hao blinked.

“What?”

The Dean’s tone sharpened.

“Your friends and teachers are on their way.”

Long Hao’s head snapped up.

“What?”

“I wasn’t the only one who traced the signal.”

A faint tremor shook the cave ceiling.

Not Anchor energy.

Different.

Familiar.

Multiple signatures approaching rapidly.

Azure Dragon.

The Dean sliced through another wave of tendrils.

“This is no longer your personal guilt story,” he said calmly.

“This is an invasion.”

Zehell’s eyes narrowed.

“So you escalate.”

The Dean smiled faintly.

“You forced my hand.”

The tremor in the cave was no longer singular.

It was layered.

One pulse from the Anchor.

Another—approaching.

Outside the fractured entrance, wind began spiraling unnaturally, dust lifting in thin, sharp currents. The Dean did not turn, but a faint curve touched the corner of his mouth.

“They’re close,” he said.

Long Hao steadied himself against the cavern wall. His body still ached from near soul-extraction, but something inside him—something stubborn—rekindled faintly.

A streak of azure light tore across the sky above the canyon.

Then another.

Then five.

The first to land was Ling Yifan.

He didn’t crash down. He descended cleanly, boots touching stone with military precision. His eyes scanned the surroundings in a single sweep, instantly calculating terrain, Anchor pressure density, possible collapse vectors.

He looked at Long Hao once.

Not with shock.

Not with pity.

“Still breathing,” Ling Yifan said flatly.

“Barely,” Long Hao replied.

“Good.”

No further commentary.

Behind him, Bai Qianlan arrived in a shimmer of distortion, illusion fragments dissolving around her like torn silk. Her gaze lingered on the fractured cave entrance.

“So this is where you disappear to,” she murmured.

Ouyang Xue’er followed, aura flaring cold and steady, frost forming briefly beneath her boots as she landed. She immediately began weaving stabilizing sigils to prevent further collapse.

Chen Wulian dropped last among the core squad, rolling his shoulders as if entering a tournament arena rather than a confrontation with an origin-class entity.

“You really can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” Chen muttered.

Long Hao let out a weak breath that almost resembled a laugh.

Behind them—

Another ripple.

Instructor Mei Ying emerged from a spatial fold, crimson robes snapping dramatically in the wind. Her eyes were sharp, furious, but deeply relieved when they locked onto Long Hao.

“You reckless child,” she snapped, striding forward.

Her hand hovered over his shoulder but did not quite touch him.

“You think you’re invincible?”

Long Hao lowered his gaze briefly.

“Apparently not.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose.

Then her expression hardened as she turned toward the cavern depths where Anchor pressure still pulsed.

“So this is the problem,” she said quietly.

The air thickened again.

And then—

A heavier presence arrived.

Vice Dean.

He did not descend in spectacle.

He stepped through a tear in space itself, coat fluttering slightly, expression unreadable.

The moment his boots touched ground—

The Anchor’s pressure shifted.

Not diminished.

Measured.

His gaze met the Dean’s.

A silent exchange passed between them.

“This escalated quickly,” the Vice Dean said calmly.

The Dean nodded once.

“She attempted forced merge.”

The Vice Dean’s eyes flickered briefly to Long Hao.

Then back to the cave.

“Origin fragment?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

Then the Vice Dean spoke quietly:

“Containment protocol.”

Ling Yifan immediately moved to formation stance.

Bai’s illusions began layering across the canyon perimeter, disguising energy spikes from distant observers.

Ouyang reinforced structural integrity.

Chen cracked his knuckles.

Mei Ying stood slightly in front of Long Hao now, protective without being obvious about it.

Long Hao looked around.

At them.

All of them.

The squad who had fought beside him.

The instructors who had trained him.

The administrators who rarely intervened directly.

They had come.

Not because he was perfect.

Not because he was innocent.

But because he was theirs.

The Vice Dean’s voice cut through the gathering wind.

“Stand up properly, Long Hao.”

Long Hao straightened slowly.

“You’re not the only one carrying consequences.”

The Dean lifted his hand again.

Light gathered once more.

“This ends today,” he said.

From within the cave—

Black-gold energy surged violently in response.

The confrontation was no longer between a fallen king and his past.

It had become something far larger.

And for the first time since the golden chest—

Long Hao did not feel alone facing it.

[SECTION ENDS]

The cave entrance exploded outward.

Not from Anchor.

From arrival.

Multiple streaks of aura tore through the air beyond.

Silver.

Crimson.

Azure.

The reinforcement had begun.

Long Hao felt something stir in his chest.

Not pride.

Not arrogance.

Connection.

For the first time since the cave of his past—

He was not alone.

Zehell’s gaze flicked between them.

Her expression did not show fear.

But calculation.

The fragment within Long Hao pulsed faintly.

Still incomplete.

Still unstable.

The Dean moved slightly to the side.

Positioning himself between Zehell and Long Hao.

“Recover,” he said quietly.

“Because this isn’t over.”

The air grew heavier.

The battle had only escalated.

And somewhere beyond the cave—

More footsteps approached.

More power converged.

The Anchor would not be claimed quietly.

And Long Hao—

Still shaking from memory and near annihilation—

Had just been reminded of something he had almost forgotten.

Even monsters…

Can be fought for.

[Chapter ENDS]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep