The border between the Frost Circle and the jungle was a sharp line. One side was white, frozen, and dead. The other was a steaming wall of green chaos.
Ji Han stood at the edge, his breath misting in the cold air. He looked at the nearest tree—a towering specimen with bark that looked like rusted iron scales and leaves that dripped with a viscous, amber sap.
[System Notification: Material Scan] [Iron-Blood Teak (Flora).] [Properties: High Density, Fire Resistant, Conductive.]
"Timber," Ji Han grunted.
He stepped out of the circle.
The heat hit him like a physical blow. Instantly, the frost on his Bastion Plate turned to water. The jungle noise—a cacophony of buzzing and screeching—assaulted his ears.
He raised the Frost-Iron War Pick. He didn't use the digging beak; he used the cleaver blade.
"Harvest."
He swung.
CLANG.
The impact vibrated up his arms to his shoulders. The tree didn't chip like wood; it dented like metal. A gash appeared in the trunk, bleeding red sap that sizzled when it hit the humid air.
"It's harder than the rock," Ji Han grimaced.
"It is reinforced with Yang Qi," Lin Qinghe called from the safety of the frost. "Aim for the base, where the roots meet the trunk. The Qi flow is turbulent there."
Ji Han adjusted his stance. He channeled his Level 3 energy. Earth Qi for weight. Iron Qi for hardness.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
He fell into a rhythm. He wasn't a lumberjack; he was a demolitionist. With every strike, the tree shuddered.
Finally, with a groan that sounded like twisting metal, the tree gave way.
CRASH.
It fell away from the circle, crushing a patch of ferns.
Ji Han hooked his pick into the trunk and hauled it back. It weighed tons. His boots sank into the mud, but he dragged it across the line into the Frost Circle.
The moment the log entered the cold zone, it stopped bleeding. The red sap froze, sealing the wood.
"One," Ji Han panted. "We need a hundred."
Rustle.
The sound came from the ferns near the fallen tree stump. It was soft, distinct from the wind.
Ji Han froze. He was outside the circle.
"Ji Han, right flank," Lin Qinghe warned, her voice low.
Three shapes emerged from the undergrowth.
They were bipedal, standing about waist-high to Ji Han. They were covered in sleek, green feathers that looked more like scales. Their eyes were slit-pupiled and intelligent. Their feet ended in a single, oversized, sickle-shaped claw.
[System Notification: Enemy Detected.] [Razor-Plume Raptor (Level 2).] [Attribute: Wind/Wood.] [Pack Tactics Active.]
"Raptors," Ji Han cursed. "Of course there are raptors."
The middle one screeched—a sound like tearing canvas—and leaped.
It was fast. Faster than the beetles. Faster than the centipede. It was a blur of green motion.
Ji Han raised his arm to block.
SCRREEEE.
The sickle claw raked across his Isopod Gauntlet. Sparks flew. The claw found the seam in the armor and dug in.
"Get off!"
Ji Han swung his pick, but the raptor kicked off his chest, backflipping away before the blow landed.
The other two flanked him. One bit at his leg, its teeth grinding against the Bastion Plate greaves. The other jumped for his back.
"They are testing the shell!" Lin Qinghe shouted. "Don't let them find the joints!"
Ji Han felt the weight on his back. The raptor was clawing at the leather strap of his helmet.
"Enough!"
Ji Han didn't try to out-speed them. He dropped his center of gravity. He activated the Iron Skin passive he had gained from the Isopod meat.
He slammed his back against the frozen trunk of the log he had just harvested.
CRUNCH.
The raptor on his back was sandwiched between fifty kilograms of armor and two tons of Iron-Blood Teak. It squawked, its ribs cracking.
Ji Han spun around, grabbing the stunned raptor by the neck.
"Too light," Ji Han growled.
He squeezed. Strength +3.0 crushed the hollow, bird-like bones of its neck.
He threw the corpse at the other two.
They scattered instantly. They looked at their dead packmate, then at the armored tank standing in the mud, then at the freezing circle behind him.
With a unified hiss, they vanished back into the ferns.
Ji Han stood there, chest heaving.
"They're smart," Ji Han said, stepping back into the frost. "They realized the juice wasn't worth the squeeze."
"They will be back," Lin Qinghe said, examining the deep scratches on his gauntlet. "And next time, they will bring more. Or they will aim for the eyes."
"Then we build faster."
The rest of the day was a blur of labor.
Ji Han harvested trees until his arms felt like lead. He dragged them into the circle.
Construction was crude but effective. He couldn't dig deep holes in the frozen ground of the circle, so he used the Black Iron ore chunks to build a foundation.
He sharpened the tops of the Iron-Blood Teak logs into spikes. He lashed them together using braided strips of Myriapod skin—which, when frozen, became as hard as steel cables.
He planted the logs in a tight ring, just inside the frost line.
By sunset—which was a blazing, humid purple twilight—the Frost Circle had walls.
It was a palisade. Rough, dark, and menacing. It stood three meters high, a ring of iron-wood spikes protecting the frozen ground within.
Ji Han stood on top of his crude rampart, looking out.
The jungle at night was bioluminescent. The flowers glowed red. The moss glowed blue. Eyes reflected in the dark, watching the strange, cold fortress that had appeared in their territory.
"A castle," Lin Qinghe said, standing below him. She had started a small fire in the center, using the dried root charcoal. "Small. Ugly. But a castle."
"It's a start," Ji Han said.
He looked down at the trench entrance in the center of their camp. The roots had stopped growing into the tunnel, halted by the cold of the Pearl.
"We sleep in shifts," Ji Han said. "The walls keep out the Titanosaur. But the Raptors can climb."
He sat down on the rampart, his legs dangling over the edge, his War Pick resting on his shoulder.
For the first time in a year, he was sleeping under the stars.