Chapter 32: The Mysterious Disappearance
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
Fang Cheng Lang struggled to hold back his anger at Lan Zi Yu’s bold actions. He clenched his fists, his eyes burning with barely contained fury.
Just when it looked like their disagreement might escalate into an all-out verbal clash, Ye Cong Xin intervened. Her presence brought a serene calmness to the charged atmosphere.
Gently tugging at Lan Zi Yu’s sleeve, she interjected with a voice that carried the softness of a breeze yet the firmness of deep waters. “Senior Brother, we understand,” she spoke, each word carefully weighed and delivered with a soothing clarity that belied the seriousness of her intervention.
Lan Zi Yu, however, was visibly annoyed by the interruption. His body stiffened, and he turned his head away sharply, a clear sign of his irritation. He chose silence over words, perhaps realizing that anything said in such heat would only fuel the fires of disagreement further.
Fang Cheng Lang, too, found himself biting his lip, a silent struggle against the surge of frustration that threatened to overflow. He, like Lan Zi Yu, opted for a tense silence. Though it appeared they had managed to avoid a direct confrontation for the moment, the air between them was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tensions.
…
The seven were gasping for breath, their faces a blend of relief at having narrowly escaped death and bitterness over the harrowing experience.
“Damn it, what terrible luck!” one of them cursed out loud. Their ordeal seemed to weigh heavily on each of them.
The elite sect disciples they envied had effortlessly achieved Golden Core status. If only they possessed such innate talent, they could have been Nascent Soul elders by now, far removed from the humiliations they currently endured.
Kui Zi, still irked from a slap he’d received earlier and weakened from the long run, cautiously voiced his opinion. “Dragon Roar Valley is too dangerous. We should steer clear of it,” he said, his voice wavering slightly.
The wisdom of the ages suggests that while fortune favors the brave, true wisdom lies in recognizing one’s limitations. With the addition of sect disciples, their slim chances of success had dwindled even further, making any attempt not just risky, but potentially fatal. Why risk their lives for such slim gains?
The logic in Kui Zi’s words resonated with the group. While they could potentially take on isolated cultivators alone, facing these formidable sect disciples was a completely different challenge. Recent encounters had starkly illustrated their disadvantages.
Yet, the final decision was not theirs alone to make. Despite their concerns, they hesitated to express their doubts openly. Instead, their eyes collectively turned toward the man known for his strategic mind, waiting for him to make the call.
This scholarly looking man, always thoughtful and deliberate, suspected that the tales of the mythical Seven-Colored Stag might just be a ruse to lure ambitious but unwary cultivators. To leave empty-handed was disheartening, but to proceed given their current disadvantage could lead to their demise right here in this treacherous valley.
After a moment of reflection, he decisively stated, “Let’s leave Dragon Roar Valley now. No more gambles!”
Relief washed over the group as they quickly concurred with nods, relieved to be withdrawing from such a perilous situation. Just as they turned to exit the valley, a low, raspy voice stopped them in their tracks. “No, but you’re not leaving today.”
Startled, the seven unsheathed their weapons, spinning toward the voice. A tall, slim figure stepped forward, his presence chilling. Adorned with a silver necklace and lips unnaturally red, his appearance was as striking as it was eerie.
Noticing he was alone, they slightly relaxed. The refined strategist signaled Kui Zi, who usually led their confrontations.
“Kid, you’ve got a big mouth,” Kui Zi barked. “Do you think the Yin Mountain Seven Tigers are easy targets? Back off, or we’ll end your life!”
Confronting a scholarly type like Zhang Jun, they might have been bold, but facing this mysterious stranger, they opted for intimidation, hoping to scare him off.
The stranger’s response was a single, contemptuous word: “Rabble.”
Wu Shao Zhen’s tone was thick with scorn and malice. Enraged by his dismissiveness, the group launched their attack without a second thought.
Swords gleamed, blades flashed, and gusts of wind transformed into deadly projectiles as they hurtled towards Wu Shao Zhen. He stood motionless, a stark contrast to their frantic assault.
The strategist’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, and as realization dawned, his expression turned to one of alarm. He shouted, “Run!”
Their attacks seemed to hit Wu Shao Zhen, but his form dissolved like sand, leaving no trace of blood. In his place, a swarm of dark red insects emerged, each as large as a thumb and equipped with razor-sharp mandibles.
Panic set in, and the group scattered, fleeing like birds from a predator. However, they couldn’t outpace the swift swarm. Kui Zi, already weak and now the slowest, was overtaken first.
Cornered and desperate, Kui Zi fell to his knees, pleading, “Senior! I’ll be your slave, just please, spare me! I don’t want to die!”
Wu Shao Zhen’s reply was merciless: “A waste like you should feel honored to feed my insects.”
Those chilling words were the last thing Kui Zi heard before the swarm enveloped him, rapidly reducing him to nothing more than a bleached skeleton.
“Hah, none of you are escaping,” Wu Shao Zhen sneered, his eyes following the rest as they fled in sheer terror.
…
The strategist gasped for air, feeling as if his chest was ablaze with fire. Each breath scorched his throat, a burning reminder of his peril. Exhausted, spiritually depleted, and driven by sheer terror, he pushed himself to keep moving. The gruesome demise of Kui Zi was a fresh and horrifying memory—he knew all too well the fate that awaited him if he slowed down.
Driven by a fierce determination not to be devoured by the monstrous insects that had claimed his companion, he propelled himself forward with every ounce of strength left in him. Despite his efforts, the sinister buzzing of wings soon filled the air behind him again. Wu Shao Zhen, his relentless pursuer, was closing in!
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
Despair ignited within him like a rampant blaze. With his jaw clenched and his body twisted by fear, he steeled himself to face whatever came his way with as much bravery as he could muster.
In a cruel twist of fate, just as he readied himself for a desperate confrontation, his foot snagged on a hidden vine. Stumbling uncontrollably, he hurtled toward a rock entwined with more vines. Collision seemed certain, and he braced for the impact, fully exposed and defenseless.
As the ground rushed up to meet him, resignation filled his eyes. Wu Shao Zhen, following closely, allowed a grim smile to curl his lips, certain of his impending victory. But in a breathtaking moment, just as the strategist was about to crash into the rock, he vanished into thin air.
Wu Shao Zhen halted, his interest piqued. He had seen it with his own eyes—the strategist had disappeared right before the impact. Could it be a hidden realm? Perhaps some form of magical barrier?
With a smile playing on his lips, intrigued by this unexpected turn of events, Wu Shao Zhen approached the vine-covered rock with caution. After a moment of scrutiny to ensure no hidden dangers awaited him, he pressed his hand against the rock. A gentle breeze stirred, causing the surrounding leaves to flutter and dance in the quiet forest air.