Skinning a monster was one thing. Skinning a fellow human—albeit metaphorically by stripping a corpse of its clothes—required a different kind of intestinal fortitude.
But for Vaelen, disgust was a luxury he could not afford.
Vaelen stood over one of the bandit corpses. He had just removed the Hard Leather Armor from the stiff body. It was slightly too big in the shoulders, but the straps could be tightened. The smell of stale sweat and old blood wafted from the leather, but to Vaelen, it was the scent of "defense".
He discarded his tattered noble silk clothes into the mud without a second thought. Silk couldn't withstand monster teeth; cured hide could.
"Asset inventory," Vaelen murmured softly, his voice sounding like an accountant calculating company losses after a fire.
He spread all the loot on a relatively dry flat rock:
- Hard Leather Vest & Boots: Physical protection increased, Agility slightly hampered due to poor fit.
- Forged Iron Shortsword: Low quality, but heavier and longer than Gareth's guard sword. Vaelen strapped it to his back as a secondary weapon.
- Hand Crossbow (Broken): String snapped, trigger mechanism jammed. Junk. But the iron bolts in the bandit's waist pouch were still useful. There were 12 of them.
- Lamp Oil Flask & Flint: Incendiary tools.
- Hard Jerky & Moldy Bread: Rations for two days.
- Map & Broken Compass.
Vaelen bit into the hard bread. It tasted like chewing sawdust mixed with chalk, but he forced it down his throat.
[Calories Ingested: Low Quality. Energy Recovery: +2%]
While chewing, Vaelen felt something throbbing at the back of his head. Not a normal headache, but an itching sensation inside his skull.
It was the residual "filth" from the soul of the Iron Boar he had eaten.
Although the boar's body was destroyed, the animal's primal instincts were still floating around inside his Abyssal Root circuits. Vaelen felt like headbutting a nearby tree. He felt angry for no reason. He felt this territory was his and anyone passing through had to die.
[Sanity Warning: 78/100]
[Residue aggression interfering with logical cognition.]
[Suggested Action: Meditation or Violence.]
"Violence is a fool's choice if there's no profit in it," Vaelen hissed.
He sat cross-legged on the rock, mimicking the meditation position he remembered from kung fu movies in his previous life, combined with rough instructions from the System.
He closed his eyes and dove inside himself.
The world inside him was pitch black. There was no shining golden Dantian or calm blue ocean of Mana like in cliché cultivation novels.
There was only a black hole rotating slowly in the center of his stomach—the Abyssal Root. And around that hole, noisy red smoke flew about, the remnants of the boar's rage.
"Quiet," Vaelen commanded mentally.
The red smoke growled, trying to attack his consciousness.
Instead of fighting it with "light" or "calmness", Vaelen used a different approach. He visualized the red smoke as junk data. He visualized his Entropy System as a shredder.
He didn't calm the rage; he shredded it.
In his imagination, a rusty grinder descended from his mental ceiling, grinding the red smoke. The squeals of a wild boar sounded heartbreaking before finally falling silent.
Vaelen opened his eyes, gasping. Cold sweat soaked his back.
The itch in his brain was gone. His Sanity stabilized back to 90/100.
But there was a side effect.
Vaelen lifted his hand. The veins on the back of his hand now looked more prominent, and his skin had become slightly harder—a little tougher.
[Partial Assimilation: Iron Skin (Trace Amount)]
[Physical Defense: +0.5]
"Eating souls changes the body," Vaelen concluded. He touched his cheek. Still human. "At least for now."
The sun began to lean towards the West. The forest light dimmed rapidly, turning the grey hue into pitch black. The temperature dropped drastically. Mist began to rise from the ground, this time not the usual white mist, but mist with a slight greenish tint—a sign of toxic miasma rising at night.
He had to move. These bandit corpses would attract other predators soon.
Vaelen picked up the bandit's map again. "Rat Path". That was the term for smuggler routes that avoided royal guard posts and major monster tunnels.
These bandits died here, meaning they were skirting the edge of the forest, not the deepest parts. Their base—that red cross—was in a ravine called "Iron-tooth Gorge".
"If I go to the Gorge now, I'm just delivering my life," Vaelen thought. "I need high ground for tonight."
He packed up and started moving, backtracking the bandits' footprints. If they came from somewhere, that place might be a temporary Forward Camp.
The forest at night changed completely. The usual hooting of owls was replaced by shrill screams that sounded like weeping women. Tree trunks seemed to shift positions when Vaelen wasn't looking.
After walking for an hour, Vaelen found what he was looking for.
A natural shelter atop a small limestone hill. There, a narrow cave fissure was covered by a torn man-made camouflage net.
A bandit lookout post.
However, Vaelen didn't go straight in. His life experience taught him one thing: If something looks too comfortable, it's definitely a trap.
He picked up a pebble and threw it at the camouflage net.
Clack.
No reaction.
Vaelen approached slowly, shortsword in hand. He lifted the net with the tip of his sword.
Empty.
Inside, there were only the remains of a campfire cold for days, some empty wine bottles, and a pile of straw for sleeping.
"Safe," Vaelen sighed. He stepped inside. The cave was small, only enough for two or three people to curl up, but it was dry and situated high above the toxic ground.
As Vaelen was about to sit down to rest, his eyes caught something on the inner cave wall. There were rough scratches on the limestone. Not art, but a tally of days.
IIII IIII IIII.
And next to the tally, there was chicken-scratch writing using charcoal:
"They saw us. The spy is in the trees. We can't go back to base. Captain sacrificed us."
Vaelen frowned. The bandit corpses he looted earlier weren't on routine patrol. They were bait. They were discarded by their own group.
This was valuable information. The Black Wolf bandits weren't just street thugs; they were organized, ruthless, and pragmatic. The type of enemy Vaelen liked and hated at the same time.
Vaelen shifted the pile of straw and found a small wooden chest hidden underneath. Locked.
"Entertainment jackpot," Vaelen grinned.
He didn't have the Lockpicking skill, but he had Strength: 6. He jammed the tip of his shortsword into the chest lid gap and pried it open by force.
Crack! The rotten wood gave way.
The contents weren't gold or gems. The contents were far more useful.
Two Vials of Lesser Healing Potion (Watery red liquid, low quality).
An old Scroll that looked worn.
A pouch containing white powder.
Vaelen picked up the paper scroll. As he opened it, the Entropy System blinked.
[Item Analysis]
[Skill Book: Basic Stealth - Shadow Step (Incomplete)]
[Requirement: Agility 8+, Mana Core.]
"Mana Core again," Vaelen complained. "I don't have Mana."
[Warning Override]
[Alternative Energy Source Detected: Abyssal Qi.]
[Conversion Possible. Side Effect: Technique will mutate.]
"Of course it will mutate. Why wouldn't it?" Vaelen didn't hesitate. He selected the [Learn] option.
The paper scroll crumbled into grey light dust that was sucked into his nose.
A headache hit him again. This time accompanied by a freezing sensation in his feet. Vaelen felt as if his feet were no longer touching the ground, but floating in the void.
[Skill Acquired: Abyssal Step (Rank 9 - Initial)]
[Effect: Step into the partial shadow realm for 1 second. Movement speed +50% instantly. Sound reduced by 90%.]
[Cost: 2 Abyssal Qi points per step.]
Vaelen smiled with satisfaction. With his current max Qi at 50 points, he could perform about 25 ghost steps. That was more than enough for a surprise attack or escape.
Then his eyes turned to the pouch of white powder. He poked it slightly and sniffed. The smell was sharp, spicy, and made his eyes water.
[Item: Ghost Pepper Powder]
[Usage: Cooking or Blinding enemies.]
"These bandits are truly pragmatic," Vaelen tied the pouch to his waist. Primitive chemical weapons were a weak person's best friend.
The night grew deeper. Outside the cave, the sound of wolves howling could be heard. Not ordinary wolves. The howls were distorted, doubly echoing, as if the animals' throats were made of metal pipes.
The Grey Woods began to come alive.
Through the gaps in the camouflage net, Vaelen saw giant shadows moving in the distance, crossing the mist. Some were shaped like spiders as tall as two-story houses. Some were shapeless clumps of smoke.
This was a world of Rank 5 and above. The monsters out there could wipe out an entire small town. Vaelen was just an insect hiding in a rock crevice, hoping no one flipped the stone over.
But Vaelen wasn't afraid. Adrian's fear had died with the bullet in New York. All that remained was cold calculation.
"Tonight I survive," Vaelen whispered as he extinguished the remaining embers in the flint, letting total darkness envelop him to stay unseen.
"Tomorrow, I will visit 'Iron-tooth Gorge'. If those bandits are planning to kidnap academy students..."
His eyes glinted in the dark, looking more like animal eyes than human.
"...then there must be chaos. And where there is chaos, there is profit."
Vaelen leaned his head against the cold stone wall, letting the System stand guard in Sleep Mode.
Tomorrow he would no longer be prey. Tomorrow, he would be the most dangerous third party.