Chapter 76: The Invisible Enemy

Passing through the city gates, many warriors inside the city were eagerly awaiting their return. Yang Fan and his companions hadn't been away for long: they set out in the morning and returned by evening. Yet, in those few hours, more than a dozen cultivators had fallen.

The man in black who had previously spoken with Xie Guotao stood in the middle of the road. Hu Dao strode quickly toward him, stopping before the man, saluting sharply, and announcing in a loud voice, "Hu Dao Squad, this time we defeated sixty-eight enemies, including five at the third rank, shattered a Dark Realm scouting party, and achieved a resounding victory!"

The man in black, his eyes sharp as a hawk's, revealed a glint of cold light. When his gaze swept over Yang Fan, it felt as though his heart were suddenly frozen. "Good, good, good. Take your team to rest. Submit your mission report tomorrow," the man said, repeating the word 'good' three times with no hint of expression.

"Yes, sir!" Hu Dao replied loudly, then led his team through streets and alleys, departing under the watchful eyes of the crowd. Yang Fan was just about to leave when Xie Guotao, appearing from nowhere, dragged him away. Helpless, Yang Fan waved a hand in farewell to Hu Dao and his teammates, who smiled back at him before leaving.

Hu Dao had known from the start that anyone who could join the team before deployment was no ordinary person—there was always some powerful backing behind them. Look at Yang Fan; his patron came to fetch him.

...

Green fields and verdant mountains are beautiful on Earth, but in the Ruins, their meaning changes. The Ruins are a passageway between two worlds, filled with the laws of both. On Earth, mountains and forests are common, but in the Ruins, they are forbidden zones.

No one knows when the Ruins came into existence, but according to the investigations and speculations of powerful beings, the Ruins were not born from the collision of two worlds. Rather, the Ruins existed first, and then collided with both worlds, linking them.

Most of the Ruins is composed of plains, with some deserts, and the rest is all mountains and forests. And as in all stories, the forests must be home to beasts so powerful they terrify the imagination.

At this moment, Yang Fan was advancing through a patch of jungle within the Ruins, muttering as he walked, "Old Xie, you bastard. I called you big brother and look at what you've done. Is this what a big brother should do?"

Four days earlier, Xie Guotao had whisked him away from Jubei City right after the battle—no rest, not even time to wash up—then dumped him into this mountain forest. He had nearly collapsed at the time: he'd gathered all his enthusiasm, ready to start his heroic legend in Jubei City, but before he could spill a single drop of blood, he was thrown into the depths of the mountains.

And to make matters worse, Old Xie hadn't told him what he was supposed to do, only saying he'd be waiting ahead. Damn it, ahead? How far ahead? Give me a target! Give me a direction!

These past days, he'd traveled in constant anxiety. The horror of the deep mountains and forests on Earth he'd already witnessed, and the spiritual revival had only been underway for a few decades, according to Xie Guotao. But here? This was the Ruins—it could have existed for who knows how long. If a giant beast appeared, he'd have nowhere to cry.

He'd realized that this so-called elite training plan was completely unreliable. Others treated their geniuses as treasures, but here, geniuses were thrown into danger, all in the name of "no rainbow without a storm." Nonsense, utter nonsense! He was convinced they were jealous of his talent and wanted to snuff him out.

Is it really appropriate to throw all the danger at me?

As he pondered, Yang Fan cleared a path with his long blade. There was no choice; the forest in the Ruins was full of thorns—without a blade to cut through, passage was impossible.

After the time it takes for incense to burn, Yang Fan followed the trail he'd carved to a massive tree and sat down against its trunk. Exhausted, he felt the toll of the days spent in the forest—hungry, cold, his stamina depleted. If not for the system supporting him, he feared his inner energy would have dwindled away; there was simply no time to cultivate.

The path of cultivation allows no slack; fall behind, and you pay the price.

Seated on the ground, Yang Fan's vision flickered as he opened the system interface.

"Host: Yang Fan"
"Level: Third Rank"
"Title: Martial Artist of China"
"Assets: 6,200,230"
"Qi Sea: 6.6"
"Mental Power: 28.4"
"Available Points: 5,951"
"Addable Points: Qi Sea Supplement+"
"Store: Not Open"
"Draw Chances: 1"

The available point system had changed; Yang Fan wasn't sure when, but two days ago, it had shifted, and his title had changed as well. The first time he added to Qi Sea Supplement, he felt his dantian's energy, which had been meager, suddenly swell. Satisfaction washed over him, but when he checked the numbers, the total capacity hadn't changed—yet the fullness of energy and his body's satisfaction were real.

Now Yang Fan understood: it replenished what was consumed, though it didn't raise the upper limit. The moment he realized this, he howled at the sky—who else could match him? He could outlast any opponent!

At this moment, his attention was fixed on the lottery draw. To draw or not to draw—that was the question. He glanced at his surroundings; damn, this place didn't seem suitable for a draw. Past draws had always ended with him passing out, and in these deep mountains, if he lost consciousness, survival would depend entirely on fate.

Shaking his head, Yang Fan closed his eyes to rest.

...

Soon, accompanied by the rumbling of his stomach, Yang Fan sat up, touching his belly with a bitter smile. Damn, he was hungry. Standing, he cursed Xie Guotao again, then pressed onward—there was no other choice; there was nothing to eat here.

He had found no small animals in days, only catching a mutated pheasant. Why there were pheasants in the Ruins was a mystery to him. Such a weak creature surviving here was astounding. But after that pheasant, he hadn’t found anything else edible.

Now, as he walked, he regretted not paying attention in survival classes at the Magic City Academy. His wilderness skills were sorely lacking. There were so many grasses in the mountains, surely some edible, but unfortunately, they knew him, while he didn’t know them. That’s the cost of not studying—he dared not eat randomly. If he ate something poisonous or something that caused crippling diarrhea, he'd be doomed.

Suddenly, a faint sound of wood snapping reached his ears. Instantly, Yang Fan halted, his long blade half drawn. He quieted completely.

Then, another rumble from his stomach made his face flush with embarrassment. Useless—his stomach had betrayed him again.

That tiny sound shattered the tranquility of the glade. The gentle mountain breeze turned sharp and icy. Yang Fan drew his blade, holding it one-handed and swinging it through the air.

The clang of metal echoed endlessly overhead. Yang Fan looked up, focusing his energy into his eyes. Sweat trickled down his temples. After dozens of clashes, the metallic sounds ceased, and the atmosphere settled.

Yang Fan held his blade before him, his expression grave. He murmured softly, "What was that? Invisible? Or transparent?"

The mass that had just collided with him was almost completely transparent. Had his vision not mutated and his instincts not sharpened, he would have been in real trouble. Even with his enhanced sight, he couldn't catch its shape—it was invisible, and he had only managed to block its attacks by noticing air disturbances.

He dared not move rashly, pressing his back against a sturdy tree and scanning his surroundings.

Suddenly, a leaf dropped nearby, pausing momentarily in midair before hitting the ground.

Yang Fan struck instantly.

A piercing howl rang out, and a patch of bright red blood appeared on the grass. Yang Fan's blade flashed again and again; the howling intensified, blood pooling ever deeper.

Suddenly, pain seared his back—he was slammed forward by an impact. Another, different howl echoed. Rolling quickly on the ground, Yang Fan pressed himself against the tree once more.

His back was now drenched in blood, three deep wounds carved into his flesh. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead, caught by his lashes and stinging his eyes. As he blinked, his blade moved instinctively.

Clang!

Such force! Before he could react, Yang Fan was pinned hard against the tree, the blade pressed in his hand, his palm shielding his chest. His eyes reddened with pain.

Enough!

He forced his left hand free, thrusting it forward. Instantly, lightning coursed over his hand. As he pressed it against something soft and yielding, relief surged in his heart—he’d finally touched his foe.

A whimper, like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, sounded. A massive beast convulsed into visibility and collapsed with a crash.

Yang Fan barely had time to rejoice before another blood-soaked, roaring beast burst from the undergrowth.

Frowning, Yang Fan gripped his blade with both hands, bracing himself.

The beast glanced at its fallen, twitching companion, opened its maw, and let out a thunderous roar. Four arms lunged for Yang Fan.

Yang Fan's lips curled in a cold smile. If I can see you, why should I fear you?

He raised his blade overhead and brought it crashing down. As he struck, he twisted his waist, dodging the beast's raking claws. But his face grew grim—the pain in his back was unbearable.