During the period a martial artist made use of a hunting ground, it was considered their private domain. Anyone who entered without prior notice could be slain at the martial artist's discretion at any time.
If one was merely capturing common creatures, the hunting grounds were typically vast, and the martial artist might not be present at all times. Barring exceptionally terrible luck, the chances of running into them were actually slim.
Unfortunately, the mutated plant the laboratory sought happened to grow within this particular martial artist's primary activity zone.
As for whether the person was currently there, the laboratory possessed no intelligence channel to find out; the mercenaries had to scout that out for themselves.
Consequently, the odds of crossing paths with that martial artist were substantially higher, making this operation rather perilous.
Then again, if it were not so hazardous, the laboratory never would have hired them in the first place.
Besides them, several other mercenary groups entered the Melded Lands alongside them, totaling well over a hundred people. These squads had different objectives, however; some were tasked with harvesting ordinary mutated creatures, while others were commissioned to raid and dismantle underground camps established by rival factions.
Once all the teams had assembled, contracts were signed on the spot. Afterward, they entered the Melded Lands together through a covert channel along the prefecture border.
Because Ying Prefecture was sparsely populated despite its vast territory, and dotted with ancient ruins, many fissures did not converge into Center City. These became viable avenues to exploit.
Yet such fissures were exceedingly unstable. At times, one had to wait for an opening, and each crossing could accommodate only a few people at once. The next group had to wait until the first had passed through, a far cry from the corridors inside Center City that could accommodate trains and armies.
Moreover, due to their extreme instability, there was never any guarantee that a fissure would open again next time. Even so, it remained the sole option for entering via illicit routes.
Fortunately, nothing went awry this time. Once through to the other side, they boarded airships prepared beforehand, readied their weapons and gear, and set off immediately for the hunting ground. Barely three hours later, they arrived at its perimeter.
There, the group switched to horses bred specifically for riding across the Melded Lands and plunged deeper into the hunting ground.
Up to this point, the journey had proceeded smoothly. Moreover, Puppet and the Blood Staff Mercenary Group discovered that their notoriety as fugitives wanted by the Classified Operations Bureau was surprisingly useful here.
Far from showing hostility, many captains from neighboring mercenary groups approached them, expressing interest in traveling together for the initial stretch.
These mercenaries operated on their own brand of logic: being wanted by the Classified Operations Bureau proved that whatever the Blood Staff Mercenary Group had done was substantial. And doing something substantial proved they had real skill.
To be hunted by the Operations Bureau and still roam about safe and sound, uncaptured to this day, proved formidable strength!
With great skill, formidable strength, and no conflict in missions or interests, why not cling to such a powerful ally? After all, the Melded Lands were fraught with danger!
The Blood Staff Mercenary Group did not turn them away. The Melded Lands were indeed exceptionally dangerous; a band of over a hundred armed combatants gathered together would make even ferocious creatures think twice, and clearing smaller packs of creatures was far more convenient with numbers.
Once inside the hunting ground, the mercenaries stopped consuming the rations they had brought, subsisting instead on local wildlife they hunted. They would be attacked for trespassing on the creatures' territories regardless, so they might as well hunt them.
However, much of the meat was overly rich in nourishment for most people; they could only eat it in small portions, stashing the rest away to take out after the mission, where corporations and government departments would readily purchase it.
For Puppet, such fare was just right; as long as it provided nourishment, he could absorb it all.
He was currently building up reserves to step across that threshold. Yet his mutated tissue was like a bottomless abyss; no matter how much he absorbed, it was swallowed up and stored away, seemingly never enough.
On the surface, staying here for an extended period might seem ideal. In truth, were he alone, he would have to fend off ceaseless assaults from mutated creatures day in and day out, with no time to rest.
Not to mention how treacherous nights were in the Melded Lands. Even a martial artist might hesitate to venture too deep and would only linger after thorough preparation; for anyone below that level, staying was out of the question.
Beyond that, the Melded Lands carried the inescapable hazard of vitalized corruption. One lapse in vigilance, and a fighter would warp into something else entirely. Moving in fast and getting out just as fast was the best way to minimize the risks.
After pushing deep into the hunting ground for a full day, no other mercenary bands remained beside the Blood Staff Mercenary Group. They were advancing into the most perilous section of the reserve, drawing closer to the area where the mutated plant grew.
Accompanying the mercenary group this time was a representative sent by the laboratory. Only this individual knew the precise area where the flora grew and understood how to harvest and preserve it. The man also served another purpose: keeping an eye on the mercenaries to ensure they did not secretly withhold any specimens to sell off to other buyers.
The closer they drew to the mutated flora's domain, the fewer dangerous creatures appeared. Eventually, even the beasts that periodically ambushed them vanished, putting the entire party on high alert.
Such a situation meant only one thing: they had strayed into the territory of an exceptionally dangerous Melded Lands creature.
At one point, Puppet abruptly reined in and swung down from his saddle. Seeing this, the team members behind him dismounted one after another, scanning their surroundings warily. Watching Puppet advance with extreme caution, they exchanged glances and crept quietly after him.
Parting the tall grass to peer ahead, everyone caught sight of the scene before them, and their breath caught in their throats.
Before them lay a giant gray wolf with pointed ears, at least five to six meters from snout to tail, looking utterly ferocious. It was sprawled in deep slumber, surrounded by a grove of low, gnarled shrubs laden with heavy blue fruits that appeared extraordinarily alluring.
The lab's overseer was an elderly man with sparse, disheveled hair. At the sight, delight flooded his face, and he whispered urgently, "That's Kokmole—a fruit tree cultivated by the First Folk. After a century of reckless harvesting and poaching, it's rarely seen today. Find a way to drive off or lure away that giant wolf, and I'll go gather the fruit."
Someone in the squad asked, "Mr. Sven, what kind of wolf is that?"
The old man rolled his eyes. "How should I know? I told you beforehand: gathering intelligence is your job; we don't care about anything else. Otherwise, what are we paying you so much for?"
The bald woman in the squad tapped her boundary credential and said, "There's no matching bio-data for this wolf in the database. It's likely a pet bred by that martial artist specifically to guard this area."
Turning to Puppet, she added, "Boss, luring it away won't be easy. If that martial artist follows the path of the Aspect of Divinity, this creature might house his mutated tissue and a projection of his spirit. In that case, we might end up confronting a martial artist."
"Then wouldn't going in just be throwing our lives away?" someone in the group grumbled in dissatisfaction.
The old man scoffed. "Don't blame me for being blunt. The hefty fee you're getting is, to put it plainly, hazard pay for your lives. I don't care what methods you use—even if you have to feed it bodies, you'd better deal with that wolf."
His harsh words drew venomous glares from the mercenaries. The old man glared right back without fear; he had only paid an advance deposit, and the mercenaries relied on him to get back, so he wasn't worried in the least.
Puppet observed for a while, then straightened up. Raising his hand, he flashed three fingers at the group.
The bald woman immediately cautioned the others, "Execute Plan Three!"
Understanding the cue, the mercenaries fanned out swiftly, taking up positions.
Holding his cane, Puppet stepped slowly forward. When he came within two hundred meters, the giant wolf's nostrils twitched. It snapped its eyes open, locking its gaze onto him, yet remained sprawled in place.
It sensed no field or trace of danger emanating from Puppet. Scent-wise, there was only the smell of fabric from his clothes and a faint reek of blood drifting from the cane.
Though his gait and posture revealed the bearing of a fighter, for some reason, the beast felt no threat at all.
The mercenaries in the rear tensed up, involuntarily raising their weapon barrels toward the giant wolf.
Puppet closed the distance step by step. Once he reached a certain threshold, the wolf finally ceased lying down and prepared to rise. But at that exact moment, the mutated tissue within Puppet erupted in a burst of power. With a heavy stomp, he cleared dozens of meters in an instant. Lifting the blood staff in his hand, he lashed out squarely at the giant wolf's nose, cracking violently against that soft, sensitive spot.
A shrill, agonizing shriek burst from the giant wolf's jaws as its entire body leapt into the air.
Puppet did not linger in place. Darting straight beneath the giant wolf's underbelly, he planted his feet and drove upward with explosive force, curling his limbs tight. He slammed like an upward-firing cannonball into the wolf's chest and abdomen, bending its massive frame in half and launching it into the air.
Touching down on both feet, he surged forward again. He raised his cane and struck down viciously right between the fallen wolf's brows. With a thudding crack, the beast's body shuddered violently, stiffened rigid for a split second, and then collapsed sideways onto the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.
Puppet glanced back and waved a hand, signaling that it was clear.
The old man sprinted forward with speed no one had anticipated, rushing right up to the Kokmole trees. His expression shifted into intense focus as he donned gloves, took out his instruments, and harvested portions with practiced precision. He placed them into pre-prepared cases and sealed them away with meticulous care.
Chapter 1208