Near the landing bridge of the base island, Meng Hao stood burning with anxiety.
His 98K sniper rifle roared repeatedly, eliminating the more powerful creatures within the oncoming beast horde.
Yet he knew full well—this was but a futile effort.
Once the treant army arrived, it would all be over.
The goblin sentinels could hold back the monsters, but they were no match for the treants.
In the earlier skirmish, Meng Hao had already observed—the treants were immune to physical attacks.
Even when he severed their limbs with an iron axe, the branches would rapidly regenerate.
"What now? They're impervious to physical damage, and I don't even know magic!"
The deeper he thought, the more agitated he became.
A simple treasure hunt had spiraled into a deadly nightmare.
Even the old witch herself was a formidable being, impervious to conventional attacks.
If her treant minions managed to strip him of the Wandering Cloak, he would be as good as dead.
"Treasure Island? More like Demon's Isle! Someone ought to burn the whole cursed place down—"
Wait. Burn it?
A spark of realization ignited in Meng Hao's mind. A method to destroy the treants.
Who said he couldn't wield magic?
What about Fireball?
Without hesitation, he pulled out a bundle of dry firewood from his storage ring and lit it ablaze with practiced speed.
He had collected this wood earlier for roasting snake meat—now it would serve a far more urgent purpose.
"Withered trees, huh? Taste my fire magic—Arrow of Vulcan!"
Meng Hao retrieved a longbow and ten sharp arrows from his inventory.
[Bow & Arrows: Black Iron Grade Weapon. A standard longbow with ten arrows. In the hands of a skilled archer, it can deal respectable damage. Attack Power: 15.]
As he gripped the weapon, the system offered its tooltip.
Its power was on par with a spear—but only if he could actually hit the target.
"Skilled archer?"
"Well, I have a friend who's a pretty good shot… so let's hope that rubs off."
He wrapped the tip of the arrow in cloth and thrust it into the flames.
The makeshift torch burst into fire.
"Perfect!"
Without hesitation, he loosed the arrow toward the treant horde.
Whoosh!
The flaming missile arced through the sky and embedded itself in a treant's withered bark.
Alone, the arrow did minimal harm.
But once fire was involved—everything changed.
In a single heartbeat, the treant caught fire, flames licking across its brittle body.
These weren't living trees.
They were dried-out husks, cursed remnants animated by dark magic—desiccated and dangerously flammable.
[-100 HP]
The blazing treant thrashed about in panic, scattering embers in every direction.
The neighboring treants ignited like kindling.
The sea breeze fanned the flames, and in an instant, fire spread like a raging inferno.
A single spark can set the prairie ablaze—today, Meng Hao witnessed the truth of this ancient proverb.
[-30 HP!]
[-50 HP!]
[-100 HP!]
[-80 HP!]
The raging firestorm tore through the treant army, reducing their menacing advance to ash and chaos.
With the treants neutralized, the beast horde posed no threat.
The goblin guards held firm, their spears drenched in enemy blood with each thrust.
From the rear, the old witch's fury boiled.
She hovered just behind the battlefield, a ghostly wraith cloaked in bloodlust.
Yet Meng Hao could sense it—she no longer possessed any magical power.
Had she retained her former strength, he'd never have escaped the temple alive.
"No magic left, and you still dare threaten my sanctuary? With these useless lackeys?"
Meng Hao scoffed coldly and nocked another arrow—this one aimed straight at the witch.
He wasn't a master archer, but he understood the basics:
Three-point alignment, parabolic arc, draw strength, wind direction… and a bit of luck.
He loosed the shot.
It missed—hitting another treant instead, igniting yet more chaos.
"Not quite Robin Hood…"
Still, the fire surged higher, fanned by the wind and kindling from the cursed grove.
The temperature spiked.
Undeterred, Meng Hao nocked another arrow, wrapped it in cloth, lit it—and fired again.
Missed.
Fired again. Missed.
Again.
The witch seethed with rage, shrieking into the night.
With a high-pitched wail, she soared over the flames, heading straight for the base island.
Her target: the three goblin guards.
With her troops stalled and treants ablaze, she alone retained the power to break the defense.
If she slew the goblins, the beasts would tear Meng Hao limb from limb.
Seeing her move, Meng Hao acted.
He grabbed a spear, wrapped the last of his fabric scraps around its tip, and lit it ablaze.
Now wielding a blazing war lance, he roared:
"Perfect. I was planning to hunt you down anyway!"
He charged.
On the landing bridge, the goblin captain—marked by a red headband—fought valiantly, his body drenched in green blood.
Wounded and weary, the goblins still held their ground.
Protecting their master was their sacred duty.
Even if it meant death.
The witch descended like a vulture, targeting the exhausted captain.
But as she neared—Meng Hao struck.
With precision and fury, he hurled the flaming spear.
It shot through the air, embedding itself in her chest.
"Aaaaaghhh!"
A blood-curdling scream echoed as fire surged across her body.
[-150 HP!]