Wei Huan perceived no error in his method. He used the Hand of the Undead to entwine the bird-ghost's soul. As he injected his spiritual power, the phantom hands sprouted more fingers in a cycle of endless growth, acting like a giant python that sought to cover the bird-ghost bit by bit and consume it whole.
"SCREECH!!"
Wei Huan's actions triggered a survival instinct in the bird-ghost. Though it clearly lacked higher sentience, it sensed a mortal crisis and struggled, beating its wings and emitting a piercing wail.
"Ugh!"
The bird-ghost's frantic movements snapped several spectral hands. Wei Huan felt a sudden tightness in his chest—a backlash from his spell being forcibly broken.
This sensation was another novelty of this world. In the Challenge World, a failed spell never felt this visceral. For a moment, he felt as if his very bone marrow were being siphoned out, followed by a dull, throbbing pain in his head as if something had struck his brain with a heavy mallet.
Wei Huan realized that brute force would not suffice; his Hand of the Undead could not directly seize the bird-ghost or drag it into the Great Tomb by force. As he adjusted his intent, the spectral hands retracted into one another until they reverted to a cluster of tentacles floating in the void.
He continued to study the bird-ghost while summoning a Magic Eye Lord to hover high above for a bird's-eye view. From the beginning, Wei Huan had been fixated on the missing chain. Where was it originally tethered? The three heads and six wings were all accounted for, so what was left? The torso? The legs? He scrutinized these spots before his gaze landed on the long, flowing tail feathers.
The three-headed bird possessed three long tail plumes, much like Sister Crow's. Due to its gargantuan size, these plumes were incredibly thick and long, capable of blotting out the sky when waved.
Wei Huan stared for a long while, then split a tentacle into three, suddenly lashing them around the long plumes.
The bird-ghost, which had been struggling and roaring, suddenly stiffened as if its "vital gate" had been struck. After a second of paralysis, its thrashing became even more violent.
But this time, Wei Huan did not retract. As the entity struggled, he felt more than just physical force; he felt a surge of Nether Power flowing through the tentacles into his own body.
The energy was thick and sweet, like a gulp of strong liquor searing down his throat. It caused Wei Huan's pores to open in comfort, leaving him feeling slightly tipsy. He pulled up his attribute panel, but the numbers remained static. Yet, Wei Huan 'knew' his strength had shifted. The feeling of being "filled" with Nether Power was unmistakable. Even if his attributes hadn't increased, the energy was at least replenishing his depleted reserves.
'The panel shows no change, but does that mean I haven't changed?' Wei Huan didn't believe it. He knew his body; he was definitely being enhanced in some underlying way.
Having realized the disparity between the Challenge World and this reality, he knew he couldn't rely solely on the system. His instincts told him this absorption was beneficial, so he had no reason to stop. The Hand of the Undead clung to the bird like an obsessed lover. Even when tentacles were snapped, more coiled back on a second later.
Unknowingly, all three long tails were eventually entwined, wrapped tight in layer upon layer of spectral hands. In this tug-of-war, Wei Huan drank deeply of the entity's Nether Power. The feeling of fullness turned his cheeks a faint red, as if he were truly intoxicated.
---
When Mu Zhong returned, he found Wei Huan standing alone in the valley, outside Dot Mom's protective shield. After a tense moment of observation, Mu Zhong relaxed.
He couldn't see the bird-ghost, but he could feel the unsettling Nether Power. Previously, even inside the shield, the aura had been bone-chilling and hair-raising. Now, as he stood in the same spot, the sensation was fainter. This meant Wei Huan was dealing with the source effectively.
Mu Zhong didn't disturb him. He brought the resources he had gathered back to Dot Mom's shell and began crafting survival gear while taking over the care of Dou Lin.
A water collector was the first priority; they all needed to hydrate, especially the boy. Next was a treatment pod. While Shamans had healing abilities, they couldn't compare to dedicated Priests. Once Mu Zhong confirmed that Dou Lin's coma was unrelated to physical trauma, he decided not to waste his spiritual energy in this unknown environment. Placing Dou Lin in a treatment pod would allow for a steady recovery.
He also needed to build automated excavators, resource scanners, and drone cameras. Only after securing their safety and scouting tools could he look for materials to build a spatial warehouse.
Wei Huan had his work, and Mu Zhong had his.
It was quite some time before Wei Huan noticed Mu Zhong's return. Seeing him safe, Wei Huan returned his focus to the bird-ghost. It wasn't his imagination—the bird had shrunk significantly, likely due to the massive loss of Nether Power.
However, the entity's reservoir was so vast that Wei Huan was nearing his own saturation point. Cultivation was a step-by-step process; even if he had to stop now, he wouldn't regret the sheer potency he had gained.
But he couldn't let it go to waste.
Wei Huan was determined to take the ritual disk, but Mu Zhong's spatial storage couldn't hold living beings or spiritual entities. If he didn't solve the bird-ghost problem soon, either the ghost would dissipate or the disk would remain un-storable. Neither outcome was acceptable.
As he reached the limit of his capacity—a feeling like being so stuffed with food that he couldn't take another bite—an idea struck him. He held out his other palm. Black mist swirled in the center, gradually condensing into a stone.
'This is...'
Wei Huan's eyes lit up with sudden clarity. 'I see!!'
For a long time after, Wei Huan remained in a trance: one hand maintaining the Hand of the Undead, the other condensing the black mist.
During this period, Mu Zhong went out twice. The items on Dot Mom's shell multiplied, and Mu Zhong even managed to hand-craft a hover vehicle for himself.
On the fourth day, the treatment pod hissed open. Dou Lin crawled out, his limbs weak. "A new world? Why me again?" a year ago, he had been accidentally swept into the Great Vortex and taken to the Dark Beast plane. The boy had zero desire for "adventures" outside the tank. Knowing he was trapped in another catastrophe, he looked ready to cry.
However, the child quickly busied himself with cooking and asked curiously what Wei Huan was doing.
Mu Zhong didn't know. Wei Huan had stood in that exact spot for three days, motionless. Mu Zhong didn't approach for fear of disturbing him. Judging by the state of the undead, Wei Huan was doing well. Every time Mu Zhong left to scout, undead followed him, tending to his safety with meticulous detail. Mu Zhong knew Wei Huan was tied down by something he 'had' to do.
By the fourth day, Wei Huan held five black stones. One was particularly large—teardrop-shaped and half the size of his palm—floating in his hand, guarded by the four smaller ones. The absolute blackness of the stones radiated a bone-piercing cold, and the concentrated Nether Power was so dense it seemed to swallow light.
But this wasn't the "peak" Wei Huan sought. His Hand of the Undead continued to feast. Over these days, the spectral hands had swallowed the bird-ghost from the tail up, covering half its body. The bird's size had shrunk by a third; where it once occupied the entire valley, it could no longer even reach the edges.
This method was working.
Wei Huan looked at the five stones with satisfaction. He hadn't expected such a grand gift so soon after arriving. In the Challenge World, such items could only be found in God-tier treasure chests!
Suddenly, a warning flared in his mind. He looked to the left. Simultaneously, a Magic Eye Lord on that flank soared high, the green flames in its eyes roaring. Through its vision, Wei Huan saw a herd of over a hundred white winged horses galloping through the sky toward them.
Wei Huan knew nothing of this world's geography or factions. He only knew he was an intruder, and in the eyes of natives, he would always be one. Harmony was a naive thought; they were enemies.
Furthermore, the winged horses emitted an aura he despised. It was a power of light that clearly countered darkness.
"Unicorns?" Wei Huan looked at their wings, then noticed two upward-curving horns on their foreheads. 'No, not unicorns. Bi-corns?' Then he saw a particularly powerful stallion in the lead—it had three horns.
"Whatever." Wei Huan didn't care if they were unicorns or "tri-corns." They were coming in hot with an opposing attribute; they were enemies. And if they were enemies, there would be war.
The undead army on that flank rose, forming a black chasm in the sky to block the horses' path. The horses reared up and halted. After a ten-second silent standoff, the horses confirmed Wei Huan's prediction of hostility. The three-horned lead stallion let out a neigh, and the entire herd charged.
A clash of white and black, light and dark. Two different camps collided in a mountain-shaking battle.
Three minutes later, the three-horned stallion, wounded and attempting to flee, was struck by a beam of black light from a Magic Eye Lord. With a wretched cry, it plummeted to the earth. In the wake of the battle, over a hundred winged horses were torn to shreds, their blood staining the ground.
In its final moments, the three-horned stallion's gaze was full of terror, rage, and malice. Wei Huan didn't care. Once the battle was settled, he returned his focus to the bird-ghost.
These two skirmishes with the natives gave him a baseline for the world's combat power. It was average; he could handle most of them. In contrast, this bird-ghost was so powerful it was almost too much for him to digest. If it was this strong in death, how terrifying had it been in life?
Wei Huan realized why its spirit was bound by a ritual disk. A being that far exceeded the world's level was either a revered leader or a Great Demon. It had been sealed here for countless years, only for Wei Huan to reap the rewards.
"Wei Huan..."
Mu Zhong, alerted by the distant commotion, walked to Wei Huan's side. He was still inside Dot Mom's shield, which was just a step away from Wei Huan's position, making them appear side-by-side.
"Just some natives. Don't worry, it's fine," Wei Huan said.
"I see... how many more days?" Mu Zhong asked, pained. As Challengers, they weren't immortal gods who lived on dew; they needed rest and food. Wei Huan had been standing there for days. He wasn't going to starve to death, but the attrition was heavy.
"Soon." Just as Mu Zhong found joy in complex management, Wei Huan found joy in this—despite the exhaustion, the feeling of watching himself grow stronger was pure bliss.
"What are you doing?" Mu Zhong asked, looking at the black stones.
"Artifacts." Wei Huan paused. "Pseudo-Divine Tools, I suppose."
"What!?" Mu Zhong was genuinely shocked.
"Equipment with the 'True' prefix can almost reach the Pseudo-God grade," Wei Huan explained.
"I can't tell, and the Heart of Steel can't analyze it. How do you know they are 'True'?"
"Because this is a True World."
Mu Zhong spoke with a hint of anxiety. "I know you doubt the reality of our world, but the fact that we can exist here and survive means we aren't 'fake'."
Wei Huan's voice was calm and soothing. "No, we aren't. We were just captured by the Challenge Universe. But when a seabird enters the water, it can either drown or become peerless. We cannot be bound by world rules; we must be that seabird."
Mu Zhong calmed down and nodded. "The Book of the Dead boosted you significantly, and it clearly isn't from the Challenge World—hence the 'True'. If you are trying to craft 'True' items, I support you."
"I know." Wei Huan smiled. He knew Mu Zhong would understand.
Wei Huan's attempt to craft "True" items didn't imply they were "False"; it was a valuable experiment he 'had' to perform. Neither of them cared about the hundred dead winged horses. Wei Huan had proven his strength was supreme in this world; there was no need to worry about the weak when there would always be someone stronger. It was better to focus on self-improvement.
After another day of standing, Wei Huan finally reached his limit. Sensing he could no longer siphon any more Nether Power, he retracted his hands. The spectral hands covering the bird-ghost faded back into the void.
Wei Huan stepped back into Dot Mom's shield and observed the changes. The bird-ghost was half its original size, looking withered and drained. Its color had faded from pitch black to a misty grey; it had less than half its energy left. The red chains still held, but the seal was clearly loosened. If Wei Huan used force now, he could likely break the seal and claim the ghost.
But the most satisfying result was the five black stones. He opened his palm to reveal them—jet black and pulsing with Nether Power. They were in no way inferior to the 'Book of the Dead'. It would have been better to fuse them into one, but as a novice at condensing Nether Power, his concentration had broken several times, forcing him to restart. However, because they shared the same source, the stones resonated with each other—not a total failure.
"What do you plan to do with them?" Mu Zhong asked, rushing over to support him.
"Craft jewelry or armor sockets," Wei Huan said. "Or just hold them to boost my Nether spells. Especially this large one—it should increase my Dark Dominion."
"Let me try," Mu Zhong said. "A Pilot is essentially an engineer. As long as you don't care about aesthetics, I can integrate these into your gear."
"No rush."
"There is a rush," Mu Zhong countered. "This place is unknown. Even if it seems fine now, remember: if a ghost like this exists, there must be living creatures just as strong. Improvement is urgent."
Wei Huan nodded.
"And," Mu Zhong added, "if you can refine 'True' artifacts, I should be able to as well. We must grow stronger here and then find a way back."
Regarding the way back, Wei Huan had spent his standing meditation thinking. They were like three people thrown off a track; getting back on wouldn't be easy. The most likely way was for the military to follow their path and anchor the coordinates. Xu Qingqiang and the others knew where they went.
He wasn't overly anxious. He was safe, and he was gaining massive rewards. In the Grade 6 world, his team could hold their own. If he didn't know where the passage was, he'd almost be content to finish "pioneering" this world first.
The "True World" offered massive growth. Imagine if the Vanguard Corps each had a "True Artifact"—essentially a Pseudo-Divine tool. They would steamroll through the Seventh-Grade world and even dare to challenge the Eighth.
"Since we're here, let's take what's in front of us," Wei Huan said, handing the stones to Mu Zhong. "If it doesn't work, give them back. Nether Power is icy and invasive; it's not good for you to hold them for long."
"I'll be careful. Give me your spirit ring first. I'll see if I can modify it into a True Ring."
As they walked back, Dou Lin was standing on the edge of Dot Mom's shell, waving from a distance. Wei Huan's fatigue vanished at the sight of their warmth. He knew their safety rested on his shoulders; he had to stay in peak condition for any emergency.
"By the way, how is the Heart of Steel doing?"
"Still collecting data. I can confirm it's not being suppressed—it truly knows nothing of this world. I still can't find the materials for the spatial warehouse. You'll have to wait a bit longer for that disk."
Wei Huan nodded. There was nothing for it. After coming here, they could still enter the Class Temple to train, but their spatial storage was gone, and their gear had become "brittle," unable to block heavy impacts. Did this mean the materials and rules of the two worlds were different, making divine weapons "inferior"? Yet the Class Temple existed in the soul—a training program implanted in the brain.
Perhaps only "True Artifacts" could function with equal power in both worlds. Only they were composed of "True Energy"—crystallized essence. Elements, Light, Dark, Life, Death—these were the foundations of all worlds. The baseline never changed.
'If I can master the 'True' foundation of Death... can I become a God?'
Like the source code of the internet—he who controls it, controls the web. Wei Huan's heart thrummed. The Class Temple taught that the end of his sequence was the "God of Death." But that title was vague. A killer, a necromancer, or that cosmic sleeper he saw in his epiphany—all could be called "Death."
What did it truly mean? He had walked this path in a daze until now. But in this moment, he understood.
To seize the foundation of the power of Death—that was to be a God of Death. The more he controlled, the stronger a God he would be.