Chapter 33: Escape and Advancement

The flames, now bereft of Qiuhan’s control, had already been extinguished. At that moment, the flower-browed marten burst forth, poised to attack Qiuhan. Yet, before it could strike, Qiuhan, with his art of object manipulation, directed more than a dozen great trees to crash down upon it. The timing was impeccable—just as the fire vanished and the creature emerged, the trees descended in swift succession.

Dodging seemed impossible; the only choice was to withstand the assault. Yet the flower-browed marten showed no sign of panic. It appeared wholly untroubled by such an attack, as if it considered it beneath its concern. With a mighty sweep of its arms, the oncoming trunks were sent flying in all directions, splinters filling the air. The beast then seized the last massive tree, hoisted it skyward, and brought it down upon Qiuhan with tremendous force.

Qiuhan’s pupils contracted. The colossal trunk plummeted toward him, too swift to evade, striking him squarely. The defensive light shield around him could not withstand the impact; with a resounding crash, it shattered. The trunk smashed through each layer of protection and landed at last upon Qiuhan’s chest.

A bitter taste rose in his throat, and he spat out a mouthful of blood. Though the injury was not fatal, his strength was greatly diminished. There was no time to tend his wounds; Qiuhan immediately conjured fire again, flames erupting as his figure flashed through the air in an attempt to escape.

The flower-browed marten saw Qiuhan take to the sky and let out a thunderous roar. Its aura surged outward; then, clenching its fist, it struck toward Qiuhan from afar. An overwhelming pressure crashed down upon him, and Qiuhan felt his body grow impossibly heavy—no matter how he struggled, flight was impossible.

The marten’s formidable aura had sealed the air, making any escape by flight futile. Sweat beaded on Qiuhan’s brow as his strength ebbed. At last he abandoned his attempt to flee through the air, and his body plummeted from the sky. As he hit the ground, he quickly cast a lightness spell upon himself and, without looking back, dashed deeper into the forest.

The flower-browed marten emitted a harsh, grating sound, almost like laughter, as it watched the direction of Qiuhan’s flight. Then, raising its thick legs, it gave chase—not swiftly, but with a languid pace, as though toying with its prey.

Deep in the mountains, the marten slowed, having lost Qiuhan’s trail. It began to search carefully, nose pressed to the earth, where it detected a small patch of blood. The trail continued—every few yards, another stain.

Crawling low, the marten followed the blood. At last, by a towering ancient tree, the trail ended. Rising to its feet, the beast looked about. In the silent woods, a drop of fresh blood suddenly fell from above, landing right before it.

Slowly, the marten raised its head. Overhead was a giant tree, its branches twisting in every direction, its leaves dense and thick. All at once, the marten swept its arm, punching the trunk. The massive tree, as if already severed, toppled backward with a thunderous crash. Simultaneously, a figure dropped from above.

It was Qiuhan. Having fled here and, seeing the marten had not yet arrived, he’d used a black flag to conceal himself atop the tree, thinking he could evade pursuit. Yet, the beast had found him nonetheless.

The instant he landed, Qiuhan withdrew, producing a palm-sized round shield from his storage pouch. Pouring his remaining spiritual power into it, the defensive artifact expanded rapidly, until it shielded him entirely. A thick, white aura of spiritual energy enveloped the shield, protecting his whole body.

The marten charged and struck the shield with a single blow. The shield withstood the assault for but a breath before shattering, the creature’s fist crashing into Qiuhan’s chest. Though the shield was broken, much of the force was absorbed.

Still, Qiuhan was sent flying more than ten fathoms, blood spraying from his lips. His wounds, already unhealed, were now far worse; and after the recent battle, his spiritual power was nearly spent, barely a tenth of his usual strength remaining.

As he hit the ground, Qiuhan mustered his strength and cast an earth escape technique, burrowing into the ground to flee.

“So, this truly is a second-tier demon beast—not only is its body incredibly tough, its attacks are fearsome as well!”

Wiping blood from his lips, Qiuhan retrieved a bottle of healing elixirs from his pouch and swallowed one. Just as he was about to act, he sensed the earth shifting behind him.

“How… how is this possible? The flower-browed marten can burrow, too?”

He cried out in shock, hastening his escape. The beast, having seen Qiuhan survive and flee underground, slammed its fists to the earth and burrowed after him.

Qiuhan’s remaining spiritual power was low, and he could not maintain the earth escape at full speed. Fortunately, though the marten could also burrow, its bulk made it slow, allowing Qiuhan to barely maintain a distance.

Yet, as time passed and his strength waned, he knew he would eventually be overtaken.

“What should I do?” he wondered as he fled, keeping his bearings underground. Suddenly, he turned left, continuing his desperate flight. The marten followed relentlessly, unwilling to let him escape.

Thus began a chase beneath the earth, man and beast, stretching for over an hour, the distance from the mountain forest now nearly a hundred miles. As he ran, Qiuhan clutched spirit stones to replenish his power, but the recovery could not keep pace with his expenditure.

“A hundred miles ahead—Nethergloom Valley.”

A strange light flashed in Qiuhan’s eyes as he calculated silently. His speed, however, was slowing, and soon exhaustion set in. It would not be long before his power was utterly spent. The marten, sensing this, quickened its pace, narrowing the gap.

Five hundred yards. Four hundred. Three hundred...

Sweat streamed down Qiuhan’s brow. In the time it takes to burn a single stick of incense, the marten had closed the distance to just over two hundred yards. In another such interval, he would be caught.

Ahead—fifty miles, forty, thirty...

“Hold on—we’re almost to Nethergloom Valley.”

Qiuhan was utterly spent, driven forward now only by sheer will to survive.

The gap shrank further—two hundred yards, one hundred, fifty.

Behind him, the rumble of earth being overturned grew louder.

“Just a little longer!”

A resolve unlike any he’d ever known surged within him. Ahead—twenty miles, ten, a thousand yards.

Suddenly, something happened that Qiuhan could never have anticipated: he advanced to the next stage.