A triple-spear formation shimmered in the sky before plunging down with blistering speed. Three goblins were impaled where they stood, their screams choking in their throats as twitching bodies were pinned to the earth.
Before the blood could even stain the purple grass, a phantom blur streaked past. A silent man dashed in, his blade flashing once. Three throats opened in unison, crimson bursting upward like a macabre fountain.
Qiu Yiyang followed next. His blade carved a luminous arc, blue light crackling as it cut through the air. In a single breath, two goblin heads spiraled into the sky, their bodies crumpling like discarded sacks of flesh.
Then she stepped forward.
Vice-Master Yan Xuchen. Her figure was wreathed in pulsing black mist, the shadows clinging to her like a living shroud. Wherever her blade passed, goblin heads flew. Her presence was suffocating, graceful yet merciless… divine.
"So this is her true strength," Meng Xuan muttered, half in awe, half in despair. "No wonder she looked down on me…"
The battlefield reeked of death. The purple grass, once soft and vibrant, was soaked in sticky pools of blood.
When the massacre ended, they swept through the corpses. Only four demon energy cores gleamed among the bodies, crimson-red and no larger than a hen's egg.
They sighed together. Disappointed, but not surprised.
Four cores from so many kills was considered lucky. Some slayed dozens and walked away with nothing.
With Meng Xuan leading, they moved northeast. His eyes scanned every inch of terrain. He walked with certainty, each step firm, as if the land itself whispered to him. The others followed, trusting his instincts.
Clusters of goblin huts dotted the land, but the silence was eerie. Not a single creature stirred.
"Empty homes…" Yan Xuchen narrowed her eyes. "They're regrouping. Planning an ambush."
Thanks to Meng Xuan's knowledge of the land, they evaded every hidden trap. Poison spikes, illusion pits, collapsing nets—none caught them off guard.
Suddenly, a blur shot backward.
"Heaven Veil Steps!"
The quiet man in the rear, Gao Jing, vanished and reappeared ten meters away, as though space itself bent for him. His dagger flashed once. Blood sprayed. A goblin's head tumbled through the air before its body collapsed. It had been stalking them in silence, only moments away from striking.
Without a word, Gao Jing wiped his blade on his azure robe and returned to formation.
Then the forest roared.
Rustling. Crashing.
Dozens of goblins burst from the thickets, snarling like rabid beasts.
"One… twenty-five… thirty-two… forty-six…"
Counting was pointless. There were too many.
And then it appeared.
A goblin cloaked in pitch-black, larger than the rest. Its aura rippled with chaotic energy, eyes glowing red with something far worse than rage. Intelligence.
A mutated goblin.
The group's tension spiked. Mutated goblins were dangerous, twisted by demonic essence. But killing one could bring rare treasures, sometimes even permanent stat boosts.
Meng Xuan saw it immediately. Yan Xuchen and Gao Jing had locked onto the mutated goblin. The rest of the swarm was left to the others.
The formation shifted without hesitation.
Their tank stepped forward, shield raised. Xiao Long's fingers moved in intricate patterns. Her Transformation Arts surged to life, weaving the battlefield itself to slow enemies and cut off their retreat.
Screams echoed.
Blades clashed. Flesh split.
Yan Xuchen and Gao Jing tore through the mutated goblin like death incarnate, their coordination effortless. Every strike was precise, fatal.
At the back, Xie Bai flowed between allies, her healing arts glowing soft blue and green as she knit wounds and kept her comrades standing.
Meng Xuan was everywhere.
"Trap on the left!"
"Two behind the tank!"
"Do not step on that ridge!"
His calls came at the perfect time, never too soon, never too late. He knew the land as if it were part of him, guiding them through the chaos. Again and again, his instincts saved lives.
The guild fought like one body, each member a vital gear in a brutal, efficient machine.
By the time silence fell, nearly an hour had passed.
The clearing was littered with corpses. The scent of death choked the air. Purple grass lay flattened, dark with blood.
They gathered the loot—cores, rare materials, broken weapons—and followed Meng Xuan to a resting zone he had marked earlier.
No one spoke, but all of them glanced at him differently now.
The group decided to rest for the day. The master and vice master each brought out a tent from their personal rings, along with meat stored for the journey. A bonfire was built, and they sat together, roasting slabs of steak.
Meng Xuan felt their eyes on him. The one they had doubted was now the one who had saved them.
"What brought someone like you, with no holy force, into a demonic zone?" Xie Bai asked. She chewed a mouthful of meat, but her eyes lingered on him.
"My mother is sick," Meng Xuan answered quietly. "I need money for her medicine."
"Ah… sorry. It must be hard on you," Xie Bai replied softly. She stopped mid-bite and looked at him with something rare: pity.
A strange warmth filled Meng Xuan's chest. For the first time in years, someone cared about him. After being called trash, cursed, a child without holy force, her simple words soothed a wound he thought could never heal.
"Actually, I came here because there's a special item," Yun Pei said suddenly, puffing his cheeks with pride. "My girlfriend wants it, and I must get it for her."
"Fool," Pei You scoffed. "You still trust women? They're all the same. Evil."
The three girls glared at him so fiercely it was as if flames burned in their eyes.
Pei You jumped in fright. "My bad! I take it back! I promise to treat you all to dinner when we return to the human world."
"Not my type. Too ferocious," Xiao Long muttered with a smirk.
The group erupted into laughter, the tension finally easing.
When night came, the boys and girls split into separate tents. They laid a simple formation outside as an alarm in case of attack.
That night…
Meng Xuan woke suddenly. Not from a dream, but because he heard his name.
The others were fast asleep. He sat up slowly, eyes scanning the shadows. Could it be Xiao Long playing a trick?
But no. It was not her voice. It was familiar, yet strange. Soft as the wind, sharp enough to pierce his mind.
The whisper came again.
Calling him.