From the ridge where he stood, Feifan could see it at last—walls rising against the horizon. A settlement, perhaps even a city. Smoke curled into the sky, torches glimmered faintly in the distance. It was proof: humanity had carved out pockets of survival within Sangluo.
But Feifan did not rush forward.He crouched low, eyes scanning the terrain. A place like that will be guarded. And strangers aren't welcomed with open arms. He knew better than to charge blindly into unfamiliar ground.
So, he waited. He watched. Studied the flow of figures on the walls, the rhythm of patrols.
That was when the forest stirred.
From the shadows emerged a beast—its form grotesque, warped by the abyss. A predator twice the size of a man, its hide mottled with black scales that shimmered with a faint inner glow. Its gaze locked on Feifan, hunger burning like fire.
His mind sharpened. Too close to run. If I retreat, it'll chase me into the open. I'll have to fight—at least enough to break free.
The battle was brutal. His Wanli flared, giving him strength beyond an ordinary human, but only just. Every strike he made was calculated—aiming at the gaps between scales, using fallen branches for cover, forcing the monster into missteps.
Still, the beast was overwhelming. Its claws raked his side, and only his quick analysis of its rhythm saved him from a fatal blow. At last, with a feint and a desperate strike, he severed the tendons of its leg, buying just enough time to drive his crude blade into its throat.
The creature collapsed, shuddering. Its body began to wither unnaturally, leaving behind shards of crystal and a faintly glowing core.
Feifan picked up the fragments, feeling their strange resonance with his own Wanli. His expression remained cold, though his mind raced.So it's true… these things carry power inside them. The same force that now runs through me. No wonder they're stronger than ordinary beasts.
He looked again at the walls in the distance. Behind those defenses, perhaps people had already learned to use such remains—turning them into weapons, armor, even medicine. That knowledge could mean the difference between survival and death.
Wiping blood from his arm, Feifan muttered under his breath:"I'll approach… but carefully. If they've mastered Wanli, then I need to understand them before they understand me."
With that, he hid the monster's core beneath his cloak and began his cautious descent toward humanity's outpost, unaware that his steps were leading him deeper into Sangluo's true struggles.
The closer Feifan drew to the settlement, the clearer its scale became. Wooden palisades reinforced with scavenged stone, watchtowers braced by iron plates—crude, but enough to keep most beasts at bay. Smoke from cookfires drifted above the walls, carrying with it the faint sound of voices.
For days, he had only known silence, broken only by the growls of monsters. Now, he heard laughter, bartering, even the cry of a child. It was almost enough to make him step forward without thinking. Almost.
When he approached the gate, the guards reacted quickly. Their spears lowered, eyes narrowing. One man squinted at him, noting the blood on his clothes."Another wanderer? …Or bait leading something worse?"
Feifan raised his empty hand slowly, keeping his voice steady."I've come alone. No beasts trail me."
The men exchanged wary looks. They did not lower their weapons, but neither did they drive him away. Sangluo was harsh, and strangers weren't uncommon—but every stranger carried risk.
Inside the settlement, the atmosphere was no warmer. People stole glances at him: some curious, some distrustful, some simply tired. Feifan noticed how their eyes lingered not on him, but on his hands, as though seeking the faint glow of Wanli.
Yet not all bore that light themselves. Among the bustling crowd, he counted many who were ordinary—no stronger than he had been before awakening. Farmers, smiths, children. Only a few radiated the subtle pressure of Wanli, and fewer still carried the air of seasoned fighters.
So… even here, not everyone has awakened. Some never will.It explained much. Wanli was a gift, but a rare one. And those who bore it carried weight, whether as protectors or threats.
A trader with sharp eyes sidled up to him, offering a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes."First time seeing Sangluo's people, eh? Careful, stranger. This place will feed you—or bleed you—depending on how well you play your cards."
Feifan met the man's gaze evenly. "I'll remember that."
The trader chuckled and walked off, leaving Feifan with a single truth echoing in his mind:Humanity here was no less dangerous than the beasts outside. Perhaps even more so. But danger also meant opportunity. If Wanli truly came from the abyss, then somewhere within these walls, there would be answers.
And answers were what he needed most.
Feifan spent his first night within the settlement in silence. Though given a bed of straw in a corner of a crowded hall, he did not sleep deeply. The laughter of drunkards, the mutter of trade, the clatter of distant hammers—all mixed with the faint, restless hum of Wanli within him.
By morning, his cautious questions led him to the settlement's gathering place: a longhouse where elders and warriors met. It was here, while pretending to be no more than a curious wanderer, that he first heard the stories.
An old man, his beard streaked with ash, leaned heavily on a cane as he spoke to a group of younger men. His voice was rough, yet carried the weight of one who had survived too much.
"The abyss is not some far-off void," the elder rasped. "It lies within Sangluo, beneath our very soil. A wound that never heals. From it crawl the creatures you've seen—the warped, the twisted, the hungry. They are not natural. They are born of the abyss' hatred, its hunger to swallow this world whole."
The younger men listened, though not all with equal belief. Some smirked, others frowned. One scoffed openly."And what of Wanli, old man? You'll say that's from the abyss too?"
The elder's cloudy eyes gleamed. "And you'd be right to doubt. But think! Why else do beasts and men alike carry this power? Why else does it surge brighter in battle, where life and death hang by a thread? Wanli is the abyss' gift—or its curse. The same source that births monsters gives us the strength to resist them."
Feifan's mind sharpened. So it's true. The resonance I felt when I touched the monster's core wasn't chance. My Wanli is tied to theirs.
The old man continued, his voice dropping lower, as if fearing the words themselves:"Never forget: power never comes free. Some say Wanli eats at us, little by little. Others claim the abyss tempts those who grow too strong, bending them into monsters themselves. Whether truth or tale, only the abyss knows."
The younger men muttered uneasily. A few left, muttering that the elder was senile. But some stayed, silent and thoughtful.
Feifan remained among them, his expression calm though his mind turned rapidly. Wanli was both weapon and threat. Humanity survived by walking a razor's edge between strength and ruin.
Later, as he stepped out into the daylight, the trader from before reappeared, smirking."Scary old stories, eh? But remember this, stranger—truth and lies walk hand in hand here. What you heard may save your life… or waste it. In Sangluo, wisdom isn't just knowing the stories. It's knowing when to believe them."
Feifan said nothing, but inside, his resolve deepened. Whether curse or blessing, Wanli was his only chance to survive. And to survive, he would have to uncover the truth—no matter how deep into the abyss it led.