Visibility within the Mist Marsh was far worse than expected.
Dense, milky-white poisonous miasma clung to everything like a tangible substance. Even with an arm fully outstretched, one could barely make out the outline of their own fingers. Beneath their feet lay bottomless mire—each step demanded extreme caution, for a single misstep could drag a person down without a trace. Worse still, the mud was mixed with decaying plant matter and animal carcasses, releasing a stench so foul it churned the stomach.
The five of them soaked strips of cloth in water and pressed them over their mouths and noses. Gas masks would have been far more effective, but mobility mattered in the marsh, and the masks were simply too cumbersome.
"Stay close to me," Lu Chen said as he led the way. In his hand was a long wooden pole taken from the Ancient Forest, probing the ground ahead as he advanced.
Thanks to the combined effects of the Ninefold Rebirth Pill and the Stele Spirit, his injuries had stabilized. Full recovery, however, would take at least three days. For now, he retained only forty percent of his peak strength, barely maintaining a combat level around Level 32.
The others were in even worse shape.
Iron Shield had suffered three broken ribs in the previous battle. Though tightly bound, every step sent cold sweat streaming down his face. Hawkeye's left arm had been dislocated—set back in place, but useless for precise shooting. Lingque was utterly drained, her complexion pale as paper. Only Wang Meng remained relatively intact, retaining roughly seventy percent of his fighting capacity.
"Which way?" Wang Meng asked.
Lu Chen glanced at the terminal map. Ever since entering the Mist Marsh, the navigation system had failed entirely, the screen reduced to static. The poisonous miasma contained a peculiar energy that disrupted all electronic devices.
"Deeper," Lu Chen replied. "The outer perimeter is too easy to track. Only the depths offer a chance to survive."
"But the deeper we go, the more dangerous it gets," Lingque said weakly. "According to the data, the central region harbors mutant beasts above Level 40, and the toxin concentration there is ten times higher. An ordinary person would die from a single breath."
"Do we still have a choice?" Lu Chen countered.
Silence followed.
They all knew the truth. Turning back meant certain death. Qingyun Temple had surely sealed off the Ancient Forest exits, waiting for them to walk into a trap.
There was only one path left—forward.
The five struggled onward through the marsh.
After nearly two hours, night fell completely. The Mist Marsh at night was even more terrifying. The poisonous fog emitted an eerie phosphorescent glow, like countless ghostly flames drifting in the dark. From afar came low, rumbling roars—some resembling cattle, some tigers, others utterly indescribable.
"We can't keep going," Wang Meng said. "We need to rest. Everyone's at their limit."
Lu Chen scanned the surroundings and barely made out a relatively dry mound of earth to the front-left, crowned with several twisted, grotesque trees.
"There."
The mound was small—barely twenty meters across—but sufficient for temporary shelter. More importantly, the miasma there was thinner, allowing slightly easier breathing.
They climbed up and collapsed onto the ground.
They were exhausted beyond words.
Three days and two nights had passed since entering the secret realm. In that time, they had barely rested—fighting, fleeing, then fighting again. Even steel-bodied warriors would have broken under such strain.
"We take turns keeping watch," Lu Chen said, forcing himself to stay alert. "I'll go first. You rest."
"Your injuries—" Wang Meng began.
"I'm fine," Lu Chen cut him off. "Rest. Now."
Wang Meng said no more. He lay down with the others, and before long, soft snores rose and fell.
Lu Chen sat cross-legged at the edge of the mound, maintaining vigilance while circulating the True Demon-Suppressing Canon to heal himself.
True essence flowed slowly through his body, mending damaged meridians and organs. The Stele Spirit actively absorbed the surrounding spiritual energy. Though the marsh's aura was laced with toxins, the Stele Spirit could purify it, filtering out the poison and retaining only the pure essence.
Time slipped by.
Deep in the night, a wind rose.
The miasma churned like white waves, and the ghostly lights within it flickered erratically, as though countless unseen eyes were watching from the dark.
Lu Chen suddenly opened his eyes.
Something was approaching.
Not humans.
Beasts.
Many of them.
He stood and shook Wang Meng awake. "We've got trouble."
Wang Meng was alert instantly, the others waking in quick succession.
"From where?" Wang Meng whispered.
"Every direction," Lu Chen said grimly. "We're surrounded."
As his words fell, dense clusters of green lights ignited in the marsh around the mound.
Eyes.
At least thirty pairs.
"Poison Marsh Crocodiles," Lu Chen identified through the Stele Spirit's analysis. "Level 25–30, pack hunters, experts at ambush. Their hide can withstand most physical attacks. Weak points are the belly and eyes."
"Over thirty of them…" Iron Shield tightened his grip on the shield. "Can we handle this?"
"We have to," Lu Chen said. "This is their hunting ground. They won't let us leave."
The first crocodile burst from the mud, jaws yawning wide as it lunged toward Lingque.
"Back!" Wang Meng roared, kicking it square in the jaw and sending it flying.
That single strike unleashed chaos.
More than thirty Poison Marsh Crocodiles attacked at once.
They surged from all sides—some charging head-on, others flanking from behind, still others lurking beneath the mud before snapping at ankles without warning.
"Back to back!" Lu Chen shouted.
The five quickly formed a tight circle.
Iron Shield held the front. Lu Chen and Wang Meng guarded the flanks. Hawkeye and Lingque stayed in the center, striking at any that slipped through with pistols and daggers.
The battle escalated instantly.
The crocodiles' defenses were terrifying. Wang Meng's blade struck one squarely on the back, leaving only a pale scratch and numbing his arm from the recoil. Lu Chen's Demon-Slaying Saber could pierce their hides, but each kill consumed precious true essence—he could not afford to go all out with only forty percent of his strength.
Worse still, the beasts were cunning.
They attacked in waves, deliberately draining stamina. The moment anyone faltered, three or four crocodiles would pounce simultaneously.
"This won't work!" Iron Shield gritted his teeth as he absorbed another crushing impact. "We'll be worn down to death!"
Lu Chen saw it too.
His gaze swept the area, and an idea sparked.
"Move toward that tree!" He pointed at the thickest of the twisted trunks. "Back to it—reduce the angles we have to defend!"
Fighting as they retreated, they soon reached the tree.
With the trunk at their backs, they only needed to defend the front and sides. The pressure eased noticeably.
But the crocodiles adapted.
They stopped charging blindly and began coordinating, focusing their attacks on a single point—Iron Shield's position.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three crocodiles slammed into the shield in rapid succession.
Iron Shield staggered back, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. His injured ribs worsened with every blow.
"Iron Shield, switch!" Lu Chen rushed in, cleaving a crocodile's head clean off to stabilize the line.
Still, this was not sustainable.
As his mind raced, Lu Chen recalled something odd—the Stele Spirit's unusual interest in a certain energy within the marsh.
He closed his eyes and focused.
Amid the overwhelming toxic aura, he sensed faint strands of extremely pure dark-aspected spiritual energy. To the Stele Spirit, it was nourishment of the highest order. To other lifeforms, it was lethal poison.
If he could draw it out…
A reckless idea formed.
"Wang Meng, cover me for ten seconds!" Lu Chen shouted.
"What are you planning?!" Wang Meng yelled while fighting.
"Just hold them!"
Wang Meng grit his teeth and stepped into Lu Chen's position, facing three crocodiles alone.
Lu Chen retreated a step, sat cross-legged, and formed seals with both hands.
Not the Demon-Suppressing Canon.
This was an ancient forbidden art from the old ring's memories—the Spirit-Attraction Formula.
Originally meant to guide天地灵气 for cultivation, it could be reversed to forcibly extract a specific attribute, forming a brief spiritual tide.
To sensitive mutant beasts, such a tide was a natural disaster.
Lu Chen began the incantation.
The miasma churned violently.
Visible strands of black energy were torn from deep within the marsh, converging above Lu Chen into an expanding vortex.
The crocodiles sensed danger. Their attacks faltered.
Not enough.
Lu Chen bit his tongue and spat a mouthful of blood.
The blood merged with the vortex, which instantly tripled in size.
A terrifying pressure flooded the area.
"Roooar—!"
The crocodiles finally broke.
Panicked hisses rang out as they turned and fled, retreating like a receding tide and vanishing into the fog in moments.
The crisis ended.
Lu Chen dispersed the technique and spat another mouthful of blood, his face ashen. Forcing a forbidden art beyond his limits while severely injured came at an immense cost. He no longer had the strength to stand.
"Lin Xiao!" Wang Meng rushed over to support him.
"I'm fine…" Lu Chen murmured weakly. "I won't die… rest quickly… they might come back…"
Before he finished, the ground beneath them trembled.
Not an earthquake.
Something was moving below.
"What's happening?!" Iron Shield shouted.
The mound bulged and cracked.
From the churning earth, thick, dark-red roots burst forth like writhing tentacles, lashing toward them.
"What the hell is that?!" Hawkeye fired, but bullets only sparked uselessly off the roots.
More roots erupted, covering the entire mound in seconds.
They were driven into a corner, backs pressed against the twisted tree.
Then the tree itself began to change.
Cracks split its trunk, revealing dark crimson wood beneath. The canopy exploded with growth, branches intertwining into a massive net descending upon them.
Trapped from both sides.
"This tree… it's alive?!" Lingque's voice trembled.
Lu Chen stared at it as the Stele Spirit screamed warnings in his mind—
[Warning! Ancient aberrant species detected: Blood Demon Tree. Level: ???. Threat level: Extreme!]
[Blood Demon Tree: Feeds on living blood essence. Controls roots for attack. Can release hallucinogenic spores. Weak point: the "Blood Core" within its heart.]
An ancient aberration?
Lu Chen's heart sank.
Something like this should never appear in a mid-tier secret realm like Yunmeng Marsh.
But there was no time to ponder.
Roots wrapped around his legs.
Lu Chen swung his saber.
Clang!
The blade sank only halfway before jamming.
These roots were as hard as refined steel.
"Burn it!" Wang Meng shouted, hurling an incendiary grenade.
Flames flared—then died, smothered by viscous sap.
"Useless!" Wang Meng cursed.
The canopy net descended.
Hallucinogenic spores drifted down like snow.
Lingque inhaled a trace and her eyes glazed over. "So… beautiful…"
"Hold your breath!" Lu Chen roared—but it was too late.
Aside from Lu Chen and Wang Meng, whose cultivation allowed partial resistance, the others succumbed. Iron Shield dropped his shield, laughing foolishly. Hawkeye lowered his gun, staring blankly upward. Lingque walked toward the Blood Demon Tree, murmuring softly.
"Damn it!" Lu Chen struggled to reach them, but the roots tightened, binding him fast.
Wang Meng was ensnared as well, limbs locked.
As the three drifted toward the tree—
A sword light descended from the sky.
Slash!
Like a silver ribbon, it severed the roots binding Lu Chen and Wang Meng.
A figure landed lightly, scattering white powder that ignited midair into pale blue flames, incinerating every spore.
Iron Shield and the others shuddered and snapped back to awareness.
"I… what just happened?" Lingque asked blankly.
"Fall back," the newcomer said calmly.
Only then did Lu Chen see him clearly.
A man around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, dressed in plain gray robes, a simple ancient sword on his back. Ordinary features. Gentle bearing. Like a wandering scholar.
Yet Lu Chen's Ancient Ring Soul Perception screamed in alarm.
This man was more dangerous than Li Xuanyi.
And he carried an aura eerily similar to a Chosen One—yet fundamentally different.
"Who are you?" Lu Chen asked warily.
The man did not answer. He studied the Blood Demon Tree, frowning slightly. "I didn't expect a mature Blood Demon Tree here. Yunmeng Marsh's anomaly is worse than I thought."
The tree reacted violently, enraged.
Roots lashed out, the canopy shook, spores pouring forth.
The man merely waved a hand.
An invisible barrier formed, blocking everything within three meters.
"Step back," he said. "I'll handle this."
His sword left its sheath.
It was an utterly ordinary iron blade.
But the moment it emerged, the marsh's temperature dropped noticeably.
The Blood Demon Tree sensed mortal danger. All its roots stabbed forward at lightning speed.
The man neither dodged nor retreated.
He swung once.
The sword light was slow—so slow that everyone could see its path.
Yet the roots seemed to hurl themselves onto the blade, severed one after another.
Dark-red sap spilled, filling the air with the stench of blood.
A silent psychic shriek swept over them.
The man frowned, formed a sword seal with his left hand.
The iron sword flew from his grasp, transforming into a streak of light that pierced the trunk.
Thud.
Only the hilt remained outside.
The Blood Demon Tree convulsed. Roots and branches withered and fell away.
Ten seconds later, an ancient aberration that had lived for centuries was reduced to dead wood.
The man retrieved his sword and dug a fist-sized, blood-red crystal from the tree's heart.
"The Blood Core." He tossed it to Lu Chen. "A gift."
Lu Chen caught it. It was warm, pulsing with pure vitality. On the market, it would fetch at least five thousand points.
"Why help me?" Lu Chen asked.
The man finally turned, studying him carefully.
"You're Lin Xiao?" he asked.
"Yes."
"The one who killed Bai Yunsheng and Li Xuanyi?"
"…Yes."
He nodded. "As expected."
"Who are you, really—"
"Chen Changsheng," he said. "Just passing through."
The name sounded ordinary, yet it stirred something in Lu Chen's memory.
Right—the system's warning about a newly born Chosen One.
[Warning: New Chosen One Chen Changsheng detected. Level: 41. Trait: Correction-Type Protagonist. Avatar of World Will.]
A correction-type protagonist?
Avatar of the world's will?
Lu Chen's gaze sharpened.
So this wasn't chance.
It was pursuit.
"You're here to kill me?" Lu Chen tightened his grip on the saber.
Chen Changsheng shook his head. "No. I'm here to save you."
"Save me?"
"Yes." He looked toward the marsh depths. "Do you know why Yunmeng Marsh became like this? Why ancient aberrations like the Blood Demon Tree are appearing?"
Lu Chen shook his head.
"Because this world is collapsing," Chen Changsheng said calmly, his words earth-shattering. "Spiritual energy is drying up. The rules are loosening. Things that should not exist are slipping through the cracks. The Blood Demon Tree is only the beginning."
He looked at Lu Chen. "You, Lin Xiao, are the most unstable variable. The Chosen Ones you killed were meant to be the world's self-correcting agents. Every one you eliminate accelerates collapse."
"So you'll kill me to save the world?" Lu Chen sneered.
"No." Chen Changsheng shook his head again. "On the contrary. I believe you may be the only variable capable of changing the outcome."
He paused, then said something Lu Chen never expected.
"I want to work with you."
"Work together?"
"Yes. To save this world—or at least ourselves." Chen Changsheng continued evenly. "I know you have a system, plundering abilities. I don't care about the details. I care about results. Work with me, and I'll help you survive. I'll help you deal with Qingyun Temple."
"And the price?"
"Stop meaningless slaughter. Use your power where it matters—cleansing the 'aberrations' leaking through the cracks."
He gestured at the remains of the tree. "There are at least ten more like this deeper in Yunmeng Marsh. Worse still, there's a spatial rift at the center, expanding constantly. If left unchecked, the entire marsh will be consumed within three months—then it will spread to the outside world."
He met Lu Chen's eyes. "You're a villain, but you're not stupid. If the world ends, all the opportunities you plunder become meaningless."
Lu Chen fell silent.
Chen Changsheng wasn't wrong.
And if he truly wanted Lu Chen dead, he could have acted already.
"How do I trust you?" Lu Chen asked.
"You don't," Chen Changsheng replied. "Trust利益. Cooperation lets you live—and earn rewards from cleansing aberrations. Refusal means being hunted by Qingyun Temple until you die, then perishing when the world collapses."
Blunt. Realistic.
After a moment's thought, Lu Chen asked, "What about Qingyun Temple?"
"I'll tell them you're dead," Chen Changsheng said. "Killed by the Blood Demon Tree. No remains. They may doubt it, but they won't enter Yunmeng Marsh anytime soon. It's too dangerous."
"And after that?"
"You change identities and help me deal with the rifts. When it's over, you're free."
It sounded like a good deal.
Yet something felt off.
Chen Changsheng was too calm, too rational—more like an observer than a destined hero.
"Who are you, really?" Lu Chen asked for the third time.
Chen Changsheng smiled faintly. "Someone who should have died… and didn't."
He gave Lu Chen ten minutes.
Accept, and follow him.
Refuse, and be abandoned to fate.
Lu Chen looked at Wang Meng and the others.
All four had heard everything, their expressions conflicted.
"It's an opportunity," Wang Meng said carefully. "But risky."
"Staying here is riskier," Iron Shield said plainly.
Lingque hesitated. "I could investigate his background—but that takes time."
"We don't have time," Lu Chen said.
He turned to Chen Changsheng.
Dangerous—but not hostile.
And Level 41 cooperation could solve many problems.
The rest could wait.
"I agree," Lu Chen said.
Chen Changsheng nodded. "A wise choice."
He handed four jade talismans to Wang Meng's group. "Concealment Talismans. They'll hide your presence. Leave the secret realm and return to the military. Lin Xiao is 'dead.' You're the sole survivors."
"And you?" Wang Meng asked.
"I'm going with Chen Changsheng," Lu Chen said. "Tell them I stayed behind to cover your retreat and was devoured by the Blood Demon Tree."
Wang Meng's eyes reddened, but he nodded. "Yes."
The others followed suit.
They said their goodbyes and vanished into the fog.
Only Lu Chen and Chen Changsheng remained.
"Now," Chen Changsheng said, "we discuss details. First—I need to know exactly what your system can do."
Lu Chen's eyes narrowed.
So he truly knew.
The avatar of the world's will… troublesome indeed.
But there was no alternative.
To survive. To grow stronger. To uncover the truth of this world—
Cooperation was the only path.
"My system allows me to plunder the fortunes and opportunities of Chosen Ones," Lu Chen admitted partially. "But only after defeating or killing them."
"Fascinating," Chen Changsheng mused. "So you grow stronger through slaughter?"
"In essence."
"And if the targets aren't human?" Chen Changsheng asked. "The aberrations from the rifts also possess a form of fortune—different, but present."
Lu Chen paused.
He'd never tried.
"System," he asked silently. "Can I plunder aberrations?"
[Yes. Aberration fortune quality is lower. Rewards will be reduced.]
Yes.
Lu Chen's eyes lit up.
"Then this partnership becomes far more valuable," he said.
"Good," Chen Changsheng replied. "Our first destination is the deepest part of Yunmeng Marsh—the spatial rift. At least five types of aberrations gather there. The strongest is estimated around Level 45."
Level 45.
Lu Chen inhaled sharply.
"At ease," Chen Changsheng said. "I'll handle the main threat. You deal with the lesser ones—and test your plundering."
"…Understood."
"Not yet," Chen Changsheng added. "Your injuries need a day to heal. I'll guard you."
He paused. "One more thing—Qingyun Temple's founder, Qingyun Zhenren, Level 48, has emerged. He's already on his way. By tomorrow noon, he'll arrive."
Lu Chen's expression changed instantly.
Level 48—killing him would be effortless.
"But don't worry," Chen Changsheng said. "By then, you'll be 'dead.' And the rift has restrictions—those above Level 40 can't enter. He'll be stuck outside."
"And you?" Lu Chen asked. "You're Level 41."
"I have methods to suppress my cultivation," Chen Changsheng replied lightly. "Don't concern yourself with that."
Lu Chen studied him deeply.
This man carried no fewer secrets than himself.
But that was fine.
Secrets could be uncovered slowly.
For now—heal.
Lu Chen sat and began circulating his technique in full.
Chen Changsheng stood at the mound's edge, gazing into the mist-shrouded depths, a complex emotion flickering through his eyes.
"So, Lin Xiao," he murmured softly, unheard by anyone else, "this time… please change the ending."
"That ending… was far too hopeless."
The wind carried his words away.
The Mist Marsh returned to silence.
Yet the gears of fate had already begun to turn.
Where they would lead—
No one knew.