The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the silent valley floor, its reverberations still lingering.
Mo Fan stood panting, staggering toward a small rainwater pool collected against the rock wall. He didn't want to look at the face reflected in that water—a face flushed from the "soul-absorption experience," eyes still carrying a trace of unwholesome, feverish excitement.
Splash!
He scooped up a handful of ice-cold, filthy water and hurled it into his own face.
The frigid water, mixed with rotting leaves and grit, ran down his neck and soaked into his collar. That bone-piercing cold was like a whip, lashing hard against his overheated neural pathways.
"Hah... hah..."
Mo Fan braced himself against his knees, watching water droplets fall from his nose, his ragged breathing gradually steadying.
"I am Mo Fan. A human being who wants to survive. Not a man-eating monster."
He repeated this mantra over and over in his mind—part self-brainwashing, part construction of a psychological defense.
"Absorbing residual souls is recycling. It's environmentally friendly. But absorbing living souls... that's the line. Cross it, and I really do become a puppet dancing on the System's strings."
Though reason had won this round, he could feel it: deep in his body, the craving for that "soul-enhancement" hadn't truly vanished. It had merely been forced into the deepest recesses of his subconscious, like a temporarily sated beast, sleeping for now.
This was Pandora's box. Once cracked open, sealing it shut again—easier said than done.
"Level up. Only by growing stronger can I control desire, instead of being controlled by it."
Mo Fan wiped the water from his face. His gaze hardened once more.
He didn't linger near that pile of bones that so easily summoned dark thoughts. Instead, he led No. 001 to continue sweeping the outer boulder fields.
This area was barren, but its virtue lay in safety. The remaining few hundred experience points, under Mo Fan's tireless "scrape the earth clean" searching, were finally gathered just before dawn.
As the last skeleton hidden in a rock crevice had its residual soul drained:
[ Experience full. ]
[ LV. 2 (1200/1200) → LV. 3 ]
That familiar, warm golden light washed through his entire body once more.
[ Health (HP): 65 → 80 ]
[ Mana: 450 → 500 ]
[ Soul Strength : 31 ]
Though the stat increases weren't as dramatic as LV. 2, reaching LV. 3—the final stepping stone of early Qi Condensation—unlocked a critically important survival skill.
Mo Fan looked at the newly illuminated icon on his skill tree. He didn't hesitate for a second.
In this crisis-filled abyss where something dangerous could leap out at any moment, offensive power could wait. Staying alive was the first priority.
[ Skill Selected: Bone Armament ]
[ Cost: Varies by creation complexity. ]
[ Description: Uses Mana to soften, shape, and compress bone materials, creating simple bone equipment or permanently reinforcing an undead creature's bone density. ]
"So basically I'm carrying around a 3D printer and a forge."
Mo Fan immediately began experimenting.
He gathered materials on the spot: a scapula left over from dissecting the Demon-Eye Rabbit, plus a few rusty scrap-metal pieces scavenged from the garbage heap.
Blue Mana flowed over the bone like mercury. Under Mo Fan's mental control, the hard bone became as pliable as modeling clay, perfectly enveloping the metal scraps while forming a dense keratin layer on the surface.
Ten minutes later.
No. 001's previously empty left hand (human hand bones) now sported a pallid bone shield embedded with iron plates.
Its powerful but structurally fragile rabbit-leg joints had also been fitted with thick bone kneepads, greatly reducing wear and tear from jumping.
As for Mo Fan himself, he fashioned a simple heart-guard plate and stuffed it inside his shirt. Crude, but enough to stop a stray arrow.
"Tank's ready, gear's ready. Time to check the map."
Mo Fan raised his head, gazing toward the perpetual thick fog shrouding the depths of the cliff bottom.
If the outer region was the starting village's backyard, then that mist concealed the true wilderness. If he planned to stay here long-term to "stock up," he needed to know exactly how big this map was and where its boundaries lay.
"002, go."
Mo Fan's shoulder twitched.
No. 002 (the Carrion Sparrow), which had been playing dead on his shoulder, let out a soft cry. It flapped those half-bone, half-skin wings and shot into the sky like a gray bolt of lightning.
[ Death Vision · Shared Sight ]
As Mana drained away, Mo Fan's retinas once again displayed that god's-eye aerial view.
No. 002 climbed higher and higher, soon approaching the thick gray fog.
As it penetrated deeper, the gray-white filter over the vision grew increasingly murky, like a lens smeared with grease.
But the instant No. 002 broke through the outer layer of mist, Mo Fan's breath seized.
Through the thinning haze, he saw the ground below.
If the outer region was a barren wasteland, then this depth was an oil-rich gold mine! Dense clusters of gray light points (corpses) carpeted the valley floor. Each green aura representing a residual soul burned brighter and more tempting than those outside. Several even glowed a deep, alluring blue.
"Jackpot..."
Mo Fan's heart pounded wildly.
But at the very instant his excitement peaked, No. 002's viewpoint shifted slightly, sweeping across a massive shadow.
In that moment, every drop of blood in Mo Fan's body froze solid.
Beside those tempting soul-flames, a colossal mass of life-energy crouched—red so dark it was nearly black.
That was no corpse.
That was a giant serpent coiled among the boulders, its body stretching over thirty meters long. Its scales were the size of millstones. The heat waves pulsing from its breath appeared in the undead thermal imaging like a small erupting volcano.
And further still, mountain-sized shadows moved ponderously in the distance.
This wasn't some cemetery filled only with the dead.
This was the blind spot the Azure Cloud Sect's protective formation couldn't cover—a lair where high-rank Spirit Beasts came to hibernate or feed!
"Hsssss—!"
In the shared vision, the giant serpent seemed to sense the faint observation from above. It didn't open its eyes, merely raised its head slightly and released a low, rumbling hiss.
BOOM!
A terrifying wave of spiritual pressure erupted skyward across hundreds of meters.
No. 002 instantly became a kite caught in a hurricane, tumbling violently in the shockwave, every bone in its body creaking and groaning. The shared connection flickered wildly, nearly severing completely.
"Retreat! Get out NOW!"
In the real world, Mo Fan broke into a cold sweat so severe he nearly collapsed. He frantically issued retreat commands to No. 002.
No. 002 beat its wings desperately, caught an updraft, wheeled around and fled for its life, bursting out of the mist zone.
Only when the familiar boulder fields of the outer region came back into view did Mo Fan feel his heartbeat return to his chest.
Minutes later, No. 002 wobbled back, landing on Mo Fan's shoulder and trembling violently—clearly traumatized.
"..."
Mo Fan wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. He stared at that mist, now calm as ever, his eyes filled with wariness.
The post-mortem analysis was simple:
This "starting village" was nothing like it appeared. The outer zone was a safe scavenging area. The depths were a death trap that would devour you without leaving bones behind.
At his current LV. 3 strength, even with a fully-armed No. 001, entering would merely provide those creatures a light snack. Those terrifying beings could shatter him with a casual sneeze.
"Greed gets you killed."
Mo Fan rapidly adjusted his strategy.
His previous delusion of "steamrolling straight through" was thoroughly extinguished.
"Lay low. Absolutely do not enter the deep mist zone."
Mo Fan drew that red line in his mind.
"From now on, I stay in the outer ring. Using my current base as the center, I'll slowly push toward the 'shallow mist zone.' There are stragglers there, plus plenty of corpses washed out from the depths. Enough to carry me to LV. 5, maybe even LV. 6."
Plan set, Mo Fan readjusted his bone armor and gripped his dagger firmly.
"No. 001, shield up, take point."
"No. 002, low-altitude patrol. Report immediately if you detect any red signatures."
"We're just going to brush against the edges. Not going in."