Chapter Seventy-Three: Huang

Dusk had just fallen, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, a not especially robust figure sprinted ahead through the deepening gloom, gripping a long blade. Behind him, countless giant serpents gave chase, repeatedly opening their massive jaws to spit jets of mud that splattered all around the dark silhouette, sometimes even striking his body.

Ye Bai glanced down at his map, confirming he was running in the right direction. Casting a quick look back at the writhing mass of mutated worms, he picked up his pace yet again.

The radiation zone offered little in the way of obstacles—just a vast, flat expanse. If not for the presence of innumerable abominations, lying back on the sand to gaze at the stars might have been a pleasant pastime.

To the naked eye, the land ahead and behind looked identical, and in truth, it was. Yet for the mutated creatures that dwelled here, every inch of this irradiated territory was precious, every patch of ground contested and claimed.

Ye Bai followed the coordinates provided by Cao Xiaoseng, paying no mind to what might lie beneath the earth. As he set foot on a new stretch of ground, a monstrous being buried below, eyes tightly shut, suddenly opened them wide.

A guttural roar erupted from underground. Ye Bai faltered for a split second, then summoned all his bodily strength for flight. What fresh hell was this? Whose slumber had he disturbed this time?

His legs pumped furiously, faint red sparks flickering around his feet. In an instant, his speed surged. The wood attribute energy within him stirred, replenishing his stamina.

Suddenly, as he sprinted, Ye Bai sensed the ground rising beneath him, carrying him higher and higher. Sand and soil cascaded away to the sides as a colossal form emerged from beneath the earth.

The mutated creatures chasing Ye Bai abruptly halted, then doubled back toward their own territory. The portion of the mutated worms that had followed Ye Bai into this new domain twisted their heads, intent on fleeing the beast’s lair.

Ye Bai considered leaping down and escaping directly, but one glance told him the drop was more than ten meters—and that wasn’t accounting for the monster’s legs, still half-buried. After a few attempts, he thought better of it; meeting his end beneath the beast’s feet would be a most unjust death.

Suddenly, Ye Bai, now atop the unknown creature, felt his body rock violently, nearly losing his footing. He dropped low, pressing himself against the monster’s back, jamming his Jinghong Blade into the gap between its armored scales to steady himself and prevent a fall.

Out of Ye Bai’s line of sight, the beast thrust out a claw the size of a small car, swiping at the mutated worms that hadn’t escaped in time.

Meanwhile, in several other locations—

“Who’s so bold as to provoke the boss of Zone C?” A strange man with pointed ears and a flat mouth stood atop a corpse, his tone edged with mockery.

At the edge of Zone B, a woman in gray suddenly received an alert from her smart-brain device. She glanced at it, surprise flickering across her face before she quickly regained composure and caught up to the man ahead.

“What happened?” the man asked coolly, not bothering to look back, his eyes fixed on the data in his smart glasses.

The woman tugged his sleeve. “Xiao, take a break. You’ve been calculating all day. If it doesn’t work out this time, we’ll wait for the next chance.”

Her face full of concern, she added, “Someone in Zone C has provoked the winged lion mutant. There’s been a massive energy spike—my device picked it up.”

The man frowned, as if doubting anyone could rouse that monster. “The one that followed the Mutant King at the dawn of the Dark Era? I thought they were all hibernating—why would it awaken so suddenly?”

Beneath the ruins, a black-clad man and woman sat together, their smart-brains simultaneously beeping.

The woman covered her mouth in disbelief at the display. After a moment, she murmured, “Energy overload! How’s that possible?”

The man seemed unfazed, as though nothing in the outside world could affect him. At length, he spoke: “I wonder how Ye Bai is faring now.”

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Belowground, the winged lion mutant extended its enormous talons, sending tremors through Ye Bai’s body as he clung to its back, the armored scales jarring him painfully as he gripped his blade.

The talons, magnified to monstrous proportions, burst forth—one claw already broken, the remaining three snatched up the unlucky worms and tossed them into its maw.

For Ye Bai, the mutated worms were nearly impossible to kill—no matter how many he cut up, more would appear. But for the beast before him, they were mere morsels, contemptuously dismissed as insignificant trespassers.

The winged lion mutant had not surfaced for these mud-bodied creatures; they were not worthy. Swallowing them was merely to replenish a bit of energy. Lifting its head, it sniffed the air. That person’s scent still lingered—where was he hiding?

Once the mutant had devoured the rest of the worms, it looked around for any sign of humans, found none, bent its legs, and sank back into the earth.

Ye Bai, sprawled on the beast’s back, dared not move, fearing discovery. A sneeze from such a giant could send him flying for miles. Luckily, the monster soon returned underground without further incident.

Not daring to linger, Ye Bai hurried toward the coordinates where Cao Xiaoseng and Yao Ling awaited.

“Hell Pit”—the name had been passed down through generations. No one knew who first uttered it, but everyone who entered the radiation zone shunned it, fearful of entangling themselves in its karma.

From the D-Zone basement, following Cao Xiaoseng, Ye Bai, and Yao Ling’s corpse bat now hovered near the Hell Pit.

As the name suggested, Hell Pit was a slaughter-ground straight from the underworld, a place teeming with corpses, mostly of mutants. Rarely, one might spot a human corpse, but within an hour, it would be torn apart by surrounding mutants. Every new body raised the mound another layer.

The moment the corpse bat emerged from the basement, it sensed the pit, the heavy miasma nourishing its form. In less than two days, its wings had grown broader, its fangs sharper, its mouth emitting low, eerie cries.

Clinging to a cadaver, the bat consumed the mutant bodies littering the pit. Suddenly, a flash of yellow light struck, erasing the bat so completely that not a trace remained.

Had Cao Xiaoseng witnessed this, he would have been shocked, knowing the bat’s resilience well. Dismembering it was one thing, but instant annihilation was another matter entirely.

From behind a heap of corpses, a man stepped out—pointed ears, flat mouth, clad in a yellow robe that stood out starkly in this world of gray and black.

On his back were four swords: red, blue, yellow, and green. Only the yellow sword was in his hand; the others he struggled to draw, but they seemed rusted in place, refusing to budge.

His face fell. Wiping his mouth, he accidentally scraped off the skin, revealing raw flesh beneath. “What’s going on? I’ve been trying all this time, but only the yellow one comes out. Baby wants to play with the blue one. Baby likes blue.”

As he spoke, a few tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. Then, as if recalling something, he looked around—finding no one, he collapsed to the ground and wailed.

It was an odd sight. In Zones B, C, and D, most were first- to third-year academy students, always operating in teams of three, leaving after completing their missions. Yet this yellow-robed man roamed Zone C alone, slaying corpse bats in Hell Pit.

The flash of yellow light that obliterated the bat had roused the others from their feeding. They swooped toward the yellow-robed man, drawn by the fresh scent of flesh and blood, mouths gaping wide, wings at full span for maximum speed.

Like arrows loosed from a bow, the bats shot toward the man, still rolling and sobbing on the ground.

Fifty meters, twenty, ten, seven—just three meters away, when the bats could nearly taste the blood and meat, the yellow sword in the man’s hand suddenly flared.

At that instant, a barrier like the sword auras of ancient fantasy enveloped him, shimmering with yellow light.

A piercing bat cry rang out—the fastest of the swarm, now the first to die. The moment it reached the three-meter mark, yellow sword light flickered at the point of contact, slicing the bat into pieces too small to see, then obliterating them entirely. In moments, two bats that could not be slain by ordinary means were gone.

The onrushing bats, unable to stop in time, crashed into the sword aura and vanished.

Suddenly, the man stopped crying, his jet-black eyes scanning the bats still circling above. “Little birds, come down and play with baby. Baby’s so lonely.”

Startled, the bats veered off, fleeing this nightmarish place and its lunatic inhabitant.

As he watched them depart, the yellow-robed man gave chase, following them out of Hell Pit.

After escaping the winged lion mutant, Ye Bai dared not head directly toward Cao Xiaoseng. Night belonged to the mutants, and it was far too dangerous. Even now, with dusk barely settled, most mutants had not yet emerged; by midnight, when they all prowled, survival would be nearly impossible.

He messaged Cao Xiaoseng to inform him of his safety and promised to arrive by the following afternoon. Not far from where the mutant had surfaced, Ye Bai dug himself a hole and crawled in, reasoning that such a mighty beast’s territory would keep other mutants at bay.

Night deepened. In this land, it was the hour of the dead. The living hid beneath the earth, waiting for sunrise.