The moment we stepped beyond the final, well-trodden dirt road and into the true embrace of the Demonic Beast Mountain Range, the world changed. The air grew thick and heavy, saturated with the scent of damp earth, decaying leaves, and a thousand different kinds of strange, wild flora. The familiar, distant hum of Wu Tan City vanished, replaced by a cacophony of alien sounds: the shrill chirps of unseen insects, the melodic calls of exotic birds, and the constant, unnerving rustle of things moving just beyond the edge of our vision in the dense undergrowth.
We were truly on our own now, two foreign souls in an ancient, untamed wilderness. And, naturally, it took all of five minutes for us to start arguing.
"For the last time, Ming, I am not just holding the map upside down," I said through gritted teeth, trying to smooth out the creased parchment against a large rock.
"I'm just saying," he replied, leaning against a tree with an infuriatingly relaxed posture, "that the big, pointy mountain range we're supposed to be in is that way." He gestured vaguely with his thumb. "My internal compass is flawless. We just walk towards the scenery. It's not going to get up and move."
"Your 'internal compass' is going to get us killed," I retorted, tracing a path on the map with my finger. "The ancestor's journal specifically mentions that a Cinnabar-Swamp, filled with flesh-eating venomous leeches, lies approximately two miles north of this very trail. I, for one, would rather not rely on your 'vibes' and end up as leech-food. Now, could you please try to be useful and tell me if you see a triple-forked willow tree anywhere?"
He sighed dramatically. "You're no fun at all, Qing-er. We're surrounded by all this amazing, primal nature, a world teeming with life and adventure, and you've got your nose buried in a piece of paper."
"This 'piece of paper' is the difference between adventure and a slow, agonizing death," I shot back without looking up. "Unlike you, I don't have a personal forcefield that makes me immune to the consequences of my own stupidity. So yes, I will be consulting the map."
Our bickering was a familiar rhythm, a comforting piece of our old life that had somehow survived the cataclysm of our reincarnation. He was the impulsive force of nature, and I was the meticulous, cautious planner. It was a dynamic that had served us well during all-night study sessions and complex video game raids, and it was about to be tested in a far more visceral arena.
We journeyed for several more hours, pushing deeper into the forest. The trees grew taller, their canopy so thick that it cast the forest floor in a perpetual twilight. The air grew heavier still, charged with the palpable energy of the countless beasts that called this place home.
It was Ming who spotted our first real test. He suddenly stopped, holding up a hand for silence. He tilted his head, his blindfolded gaze fixed on a dense thicket to our right.
"We've got company," he murmured, his playful tone gone, replaced by a low, predatory excitement. "Tier 1, but a tough one. Strong earth-attribute Dou Qi, very dense. Thick hide, powerful charge… but slow. Weak points are the eyes and the underbelly. A Stone-skinned Boar."
My mind immediately went into strategic mode. "Alright," I whispered, pulling a small Soul Orb from my pouch. "A classic tank. Here's the plan. I'll use my fire affinity to create a diversion to your left, draw its attention. You use your speed to circle around to its right flank. When it's distracted, you strike at the soft spot just behind its front leg. A coordinated pincer movement. Simple, effective."
Ming smirked. "Sounds like a lovely, civilized plan. Let's see if the pig agrees."
It did not.
The moment I took a step to begin my "diversion," a furious snort erupted from the thicket. The bushes exploded outwards as a creature the size of a small carriage burst into the clearing. It was a monstrous boar, its hide the color and texture of rough granite, with two wicked, curving tusks stained with dirt and dried blood. Its small, red eyes locked onto us, and with a deafening squeal of rage, it charged.
So much for the plan.
The boar wasn't aiming for the "diversion." It was a heat-seeking missile of muscle and fury, and it was aimed directly at me.
"Qing-er!" Ming shouted.
There was no time to think. I reacted on pure instinct. "Vanquish all evils, let the pure light prevail!" The sutra was a desperate gasp, but my Dou Qi responded. The small, golden shield of my Minor Protective Sutra flared to life an instant before the boar's tusks would have impaled me.
The impact was cataclysmic. My shield shattered with a sound like breaking glass, the holy light vaporizing in a flash. But it did its job. The conceptual power of the barrier completely negated the force of the charge, leaving the boar stumbling in confusion, its momentum utterly spent. The attack had been erased.
The reprieve was only for a second. The beast shook its massive head and prepared to charge again. This time, Ming was there.
"My turn," he said, appearing as a blur of black beside the creature. He had drawn his sword, its simple, clean lines a stark contrast to the boar's primal fury.
"My plan lasted all of five seconds!" I yelled, scrambling back to a safer distance.
"It was a great plan!" Ming shouted back, easily sidestepping a wild swing of the boar's tusks. "The pig just wasn't cultured enough to appreciate it! A little fire would be nice, by the way!"
"I am not an artillery piece!" I retorted, but I was already gathering my Dou Qi. I thrust my palm forward, and a small, crackling ball of blue flame shot out, not at the boar, but at the ground right in front of it. The sudden flash and the scent of burning earth made the beast flinch and momentarily turn its head.
It was the opening Ming needed. He was on it in a flash, his sword a blur of motion. The blade scraped harmlessly off the boar's stone-like hide, a shower of sparks flying from the impact. The beast was tougher than we thought.
"Flank right!" I yelled, sending another fire-ball to its left to draw its attention.
"I'm trying!" Ming grunted, narrowly dodging as the boar spun around, its tusks scything through the air where he had been a moment ago. "This thing turns surprisingly fast for a living boulder!"
We fell into a chaotic, unplanned rhythm. I became the matador, using small, precise bursts of fire and quick movements to harass and distract the beast, forcing it into awkward positions. Ming was the swordsman, constantly moving, dodging, and looking for an opening in its nigh-impenetrable armor. Our bickering became a strange form of battlefield communication, insults and warnings blending together seamlessly.
"Watch your left!"
"I see it! More fire, less strategic advice!"
"If you'd listened to my strategy, we wouldn't be in this mess!"
Finally, after several minutes of this deadly dance, I saw our chance. The boar, enraged and frustrated by my constant harassment, charged me again. This time, I was ready. Instead of a defensive shield, I focused my fire affinity into a single, blinding flash, aimed directly at its eyes.
The beast let out a squeal of pain, shaking its head wildly, momentarily blinded.
"Now, Ming!" I screamed.
He didn't need to be told. He had already anticipated the opening. He slid in low, a black shadow moving under the beast's swinging head. With a powerful, two-handed grip, he thrust his sword upwards with all his might, sinking the blade deep into the softer, unprotected flesh of the boar's underbelly.
The beast gave one final, shuddering squeal and collapsed, its massive weight shaking the forest floor.
Silence descended, broken only by our own ragged, panting breaths. We stood over the massive carcass, covered in dirt, sweat, and a few splatters of blood. The reality of it, the raw, visceral nature of a life-or-death battle, began to sink in.
"Well," Ming said, leaning on his sword as he caught his breath. "That was… messy."
"Your approach was reckless," I admonished, though my voice lacked its usual heat. "You could have been gored a dozen times."
"My approach worked," he countered, pulling his blade free. "Your 'perfect plan' failed on contact with the enemy. Sometimes, Qing-er, you just have to adapt and hit the problem until it stops moving."
"My plan was sound!" I insisted. "The variable was unpredictable!"
"Welcome to the real world," he said, a tired but triumphant grin on his face. "Everything is an unpredictable variable. That's what makes it an adventure."
Despite my annoyance, I knew he was right. And he knew I was right. Our strength wasn't in my perfect plans or his overwhelming power. It was in our ability to combine the two, to improvise and trust each other when the plan inevitably fell apart.
As dusk began to settle, tinting the sky in shades of bruised purple and orange, we set up a small, defensible camp in a shallow cave. The argument continued, though its tone shifted from the high stakes of battle to the mundane familiarity of domestic life.
"You can't just char it on a stick, you barbarian," I said, wrinkling my nose as Ming tried to impale a slab of boar meat. "I found some Iron-skin herbs and three Sun-fruit berries. If we roast it slowly with these, it will not only be more palatable, but it will help our bodies absorb the meat's latent energy."
"You and your fancy cooking," he grumbled, but he relented, letting me prepare the meal.
We ate in a comfortable silence by the crackling campfire, the day's adrenaline finally giving way to a profound sense of accomplishment. We had faced our first true test as a team and had won.
Later, while Ming was sharpening his sword by the firelight, I took out the freshly harvested Monster Core. It was a Tier 1 core, but its energy felt more vibrant than the ones from the city. I activated my "Soul-Guiding Hand," intending to analyze the spiritual remnant within.
I reached out with my soul-sense, and an immediate, jarring coldness met me.
I frowned. "Ming…" I said, my voice quiet and serious.
"What is it?"
"This core," I said, concentrating. "The spiritual remnant of the boar is here. It's full of rage and territorial instinct, as expected. But there's something else, tangled with it. Something… tainting it."
I focused deeper, my soul-threads carefully probing the energy. And then I felt it. It was faint, diluted, but it was unmistakable. That same cold, sinister, soul-devouring energy. The signature of the Hall of Souls.
"It's here," I whispered, my blood turning to ice. "The energy from the valley. It's in this beast."
We stared at each other across the flickering fire, the comforting warmth suddenly doing nothing to ward off the chill that had descended upon our camp. The influence of the "silent shadows" was not just contained to a single, forgotten valley. It was a poison. A corruption that was slowly, silently seeping into the very lifeblood of the mountain range. Our expedition had just become infinitely more dangerous.