It's Moving, It's Moving!

"…" Ignoring Quehou's excitement, Chen Fan turned to the ghost fire in front of him, preparing to claim it with a drop of blood. He glanced down at his thumb, then his pinky, hesitated for a moment, and finally stuck his index finger into his mouth to scrape a trace of blood from his gums before flicking it into the ghost fire. That counted as blood-bonding. From that moment on, this area became his outpost. He had transmigrated several days ago, but his body still hadn't fully adjusted to the local climate. Beyond sleeping poorly, his gums had started bleeding. "We're not heading back tonight." Pulling bear traps from the handcart, he tossed them onto the ground and got to work, speaking as he moved. "We're working right here tonight." Though he reasoned that ghost creatures in the darkness were almost certainly constantly roaming—making it impossible to completely clear out any single area—that was only a hypothesis. Truth came through practice. Tonight would be the test. This outpost certainly wasn't as safe as his home base, but based on experience, powerful ghost creatures rarely roamed this stretch of wasteland, nor would they rashly charge a ghost fire. The massive ghost creature that had assaulted his camp the other night only appeared under exceptional circumstances. "Understood!" Quehou's eyes gleamed as he nodded eagerly. He set about laying bear traps around the campsite. Limping though he was, the man worked with remarkable dexterity. To be precise, very few people in this world were clumsy with their hands. The clumsy ones were all dead. In a world where death could strike at any moment, living a pampered life was simply not an option. … "Phew…" Chen Fan squatted on the wasteland, gazing across the dry, cracked brown dirt into the distance. Shifting his hips, he found a comfortable position and prepared to take a dump. The wind was fierce today, biting painfully against bare skin. The weather was turning cold as winter drew near. Before leaving, he had given orders to the arrow towers: issue a warning shot to any living creature entering the camp, and kill them immediately if they refused to leave. He had no worries about anyone raiding his home base. With two Level 2 arrow towers standing guard, who could possibly pull off a raid? After a while, he carefully gathered a handful of weeds beside him. Only after confirming there were no prickly burs did he wipe, followed by a quick wash with water. The conditions were crude, but tolerable enough. He wasn't fond of using leaves to wipe, mainly because he had used stinging nettle once as a kid—a blunder that had left him thoroughly traumatized. … Night fell. The instant the sun sank below the horizon, an absolute, suffocating darkness swept across the edge of the sky, swallowing the entire world. Not a single ray of light survived. The only illumination came from the ghost fire beside them. Aside from the fire, this improvised outpost had no structures whatsoever—not even a makeshift wooden cabin to block the wind. "This won't work." Curled on the ground, Chen Fan looked slightly pale. There were no ghost stones left in the home base's ghost fire. Before leaving, he had deposited one ghost stone there, spent three to raise this new ghost fire, and added one more as fuel. Now, only three ghost stones remained in his pocket. To be completely honest, he truly didn't want to spend two ghost stones to build a wooden cabin. It felt far too wasteful. But for some reason, the temperature had plummeted tonight, and the wind was howling relentlessly. If he endured this buffeting all night, he genuinely feared he would develop hypothermia and freeze to death. Even if he didn't end up hypothermic, he would undoubtedly fall gravely ill. Catching a severe chill out on the wasteland offered no chance of finding treatment. As for the ghost fire, it had no heat at all. It wasn't real fire and didn't provide a sliver of warmth. Beside him, Quehou gripped his spear, his body shivering uncontrollably. Tonight was simply too cold. "…" Chen Fan gritted his teeth. These three ghost stones were his final margin for error; the ghost fire at his home base could only burn for a single night, and he truly did not want to blow through his last safety net. Right then— *Drip.* A freezing drop of water splashed onto the back of his hand. He froze, looking up into the pitch-black void above. He reached out an open palm. It was raining—and pouring fast. In the blink of an eye, scattered drops turned into a violent downpour that only intensified by the second. Chen Fan hesitated no longer. He pulled two ghost stones from his pocket and flung them into the air. The faint outline of a wooden cabin traced in white light materialized above, rapidly solidifying into physical form under a surge of milky-white liquid before settling firmly onto the campsite. "Quehou, get inside!" Chen Fan dashed into the cabin and hollered at Quehou, who was still out in the storm, spear in hand, fixated on the hemp ropes trailing across the ground. He had been wavering before, wondering if they could tough it out. Now, there was no choice. If the plummeting temperature and fierce gale had left them a slim chance of avoiding hypothermia, the torrential rain stripped away any illusion. Without shelter, the two of them would freeze to death tonight. Margin for error no longer mattered. Staying alive through the night came first. If… if they caught nothing tonight, this entire expedition would end in utter failure. Standing at the entrance of the cabin, Chen Fan stared out at the hemp ropes lying motionless in the downpour and sighed silently. His decision tonight couldn't be called wrong—after all, he had to experiment. It was just that his margin for error was far too thin. A single failure was enough to wipe out his remaining safety net. "Young Master…" Quehou stood awkwardly to the side, clutching his spear at a loss. The night's turn of events had caught him completely off guard. He desperately wanted to help, yet found himself entirely useless, leaving him swallowed by a crushing sense of powerlessness. "It's fine," Chen Fan shook his head and said softly, "We'll find a way. Worst comes to worst, I'll swallow my pride tomorrow and pay Stationmaster Wang a visit." In truth, as long as he could reach Jiangbei Market, his ability to produce low-cost ghost fires would allow him to amass wealth rapidly. However, he currently lacked the strength to protect such wealth. Going there now would almost certainly end with someone caging him like livestock. Just then— "It's moving! It's moving!" Quehou's excited shout rang in Chen Fan's ears. Subconsciously turning to look, Chen Fan saw one of the hemp ropes on the ground thrashing violently, signaling that the bear trap attached to its far end had snagged prey. Elation surged across Chen Fan's face, but before he could move, the other four ropes began violently jerking at the exact same time. Five beasts had stepped into the traps all at once! "Quick!" Chen Fan's voice was sharp with adrenaline as he charged out into the driving rain, heedless of the soaking downpour. Grabbing one of the ropes, he yanked with all his might, dragging a bear trap back into the campsite—and clamped inside was an extraordinarily grotesque ghost creature. It looked like an overgrown silkworm pupa. Immensely bloated, roughly the size of a human toddler, and disgustingly plump, it made the skin crawl. Its mouthparts were repulsive beyond measure, taking up nine-tenths of its entire head. There was no time to scrutinize its appearance. Quehou had also charged into the rain. Leaping into the air like Runtu lunging at a zha, he brought his spear down with pinpoint precision. Straight through the head in a single thrust! Clean and decisive!