The mass surged toward Chen Chuan at extreme speed. Yet just one step further, right as it was about to enter his attack range, it suddenly let out a buzzing drone and veered off to the side.
It circled continuously around him in the distance, darting closer at times before pulling back, as if deliberately baiting him to make a move.
Chen Chuan saw them clearly: they were a species of tiny, vicious-looking birds with pointed beaks, razor-sharp teeth, and a flamboyant ruff of feathers around their necks. Each was barely larger than a fingertip; at first glance, one might easily mistake them for some kind of insect.
They appeared exceptionally agile and moved together in a tight, coordinated swarm. Whirling, darting, and shifting like a single entity, not a single one lagged behind even during their sharpest, most rapid turns.
He had tried striking them with a burst of spiritual power earlier, but it had little effect. The creatures seemed to possess a remarkable resistance to spiritual force.
After circling back and forth around him for more than a dozen loops, seeing that he remained stationary, the flock attempted to close in again. Yet the moment they crossed a certain threshold, as if sensing danger, they buzzed loudly and darted away at high speed.
Though they dodged back, they did not stray far, seemingly searching for an opening or a lapse in his guard to strike.
Chen Chuan looked up. The flock was so dense it almost formed a dark cloud, numbering at least ten thousand. If he relied on jin and a blade to fight them, cutting down a handful would accomplish nothing.
He signaled Chaoming, who was circling high in the sky, not to approach and to stay as far back as possible. Then, walking over to the motorcycle alone, he unzipped his pack and took out the Thunderbolt Cannon produced by Longyin Company.
The weapon was a semi-biological firearm. The moment he snapped it onto his arm, the biological components wriggled on their own, quickly molding to his forearm and crawling up his shoulder to lock its rear end firmly in place.
His hand gripped the Thunderbolt Cannon's firing mechanism. Rather than a finger-pulled trigger, it was a palm-grip lever operated in tandem with the elbow.
Since the propellant charges were already loaded beforehand, he simply stood in place once the weapon was secured.
After waiting a short while, the flock surged toward him once more. Yet just as before, upon reaching a certain distance, they ceased advancing and beat their wings to veer away.
At that exact moment, as if having anticipated their move, Chen Chuan tracked the flock's evasive trajectory with the arm holding the Thunderbolt Cannon, then yanked the lever hard.
With a thunderous blast, a fleeting tongue of flame erupted from the muzzle.
A massive shower of canister shot sprayed outward, fanning into two conical kill zones extending fifty to sixty meters ahead. Every strange bird caught within that area vanished in an instant, pulverized into shredded mist swept along by the blast.
Chen Chuan did not stop there. Pivoting toward the surviving birds, he fired another shot, then turned again to fire a third. In the span of a breath, he fired four consecutive blasts in four directions, virtually blanketing every flight path the flock could take.
When he finally stopped, not a single fluttering bird remained in sight. The air was thick with the stench of gunpowder. As the white smoke from the muzzle and the reverberations gradually died down, all that met his eyes were shredded fragments of flesh and blood splattered across the ground, with only a few stray feathers clinging to the mangled gore, quivering faintly in the breeze.
Just then, the earth softened slightly. Tiny ant-like creatures surfaced from underground, swarming over the remains to bite off bits and haul them below. Even the blood-soaked soil was not wasted; they harvested and carried it away as well.
Within moments, every trace of the strange birds' existence had vanished.
Chen Chuan glanced at them and paid them no further mind. Such critters generally posed no threat to living beings. What caught his attention was that these ants also seemed largely unaffected by spiritual impact.
On his way here, the vast majority of creatures he encountered had feared mental collisions. Where did the difference lie? Was it due to a peculiar biological structure, or something else entirely? It was certainly worth investigating.
Now, however, was not the time.
He looked down at the Thunderbolt Cannon in his grip. Though labeled a gun, it was effectively a miniature cannon.
It was undeniably devastating at close range. It held a total of twenty-four propellant charges, loading two at a time, allowing for twelve consecutive discharges.
Combined with sufficient speed to deliver several point-blank blasts directly into someone's face, anyone lacking adequate protection would be grievously wounded on the spot. Even a third-limit fighter would fail to withstand it without external conditioning Mind Jin.
However, maintaining balance in battle while wielding such a weapon was difficult. Especially against opponents of equal caliber, one would virtually never be granted the time to adjust, and the device itself was prone to being damaged. Thus, despite its lethal firepower, its practical utility was limited.
Still, under certain specific circumstances, it proved exceptionally handy.
He tapped twice on his shoulder. The coiled bio-tendrils loosened their hold. Slipping his arm free, he packed the firearm away and stowed it back into the side bag.
This encounter was likely an intentional trap left behind by the Consortium's people.
Earlier, he had already sensed that the camp had been abandoned for quite some time. Given the nature of the Confluence, it should not have remained in the exact state it had been left in; even if they had scattered powders and insect repellents, the effects would have long expired.
The only reason it could have stayed this way was if some creature had claimed the area as its territory.
For ordinary individuals, those tiny birds would have been troublesome to deal with—impossible to chase away and hard to kill. If that were all, it might still be manageable, as fighters possessed stamina in abundance. The real problem was that if they harassed someone into the night in the Confluence, or destroyed their shelter and resting environment, virtually nobody could endure it.
That the Consortium could make use of such bizarre birds showed how formidable their methods were, though there were likely considerable restrictions involved.
Amid these thoughts, he mounted the motorcycle and continued tracking along the trail left behind by the Consortium.
As dusk approached, he spotted a second campsite.
Likewise, the very fact that this camp still stood meant the Consortium's people had almost certainly left behind some contingency.
He checked the sky. He needed to find a place to stay before nightfall, and this spot was actually quite suitable—spacious enough, with plenty of spare firewood and fuel left beside the old campfire pit.
He parked the motorcycle off to the side, signaled Chaoming to keep watch from above, and carried the Xuejun Saber as he walked step-by-step into the camp.
He wondered what he would encounter this time.
He could sense that the surrounding trees and streams were unusually silent. Unlike his journey so far, hardly a sound of birds or insects could be heard, suggesting that whatever lurked here was no ordinary menace.
He looked toward the center of the camp. There stood a large tent, though it had collapsed, seemingly draped over something underneath.
As he drew closer, the thing inside was apparently disturbed. The tent abruptly bulged upward, followed by a low, guttural roar that made the pebbles on the ground jump in tremors.
Beneath the fabric, six eyes gleamed with an eerie light, and a suffocating stench of blood wafted out, pungent even from a distance.
Chen Chuan stood calmly. Judging by the sound and silhouette, it was an enormous beast. The creature stared at him for a moment, seemingly wary, and did not charge immediately. Instead, it lowered its body and slowly retreated.
Yet just as it began that motion, two of its eyes seemed to glaze over in confusion for a fleeting second before giving way to sudden, feral ferocity. With a snarling roar, it lunged toward him. Its massive bulk whipped up violent gusts of air, yet the collapsed tent remained firmly attached, as though sewn directly onto its flesh, and was not dislodged in the slightest.
Chen Chuan held the Xuejun Saber without moving. As the monster closed in, it suddenly leaped forward. Before it could land, the sheathed Xuejun Saber struck downward from the front at a speed far beyond its ability to track. With a resounding boom, it slammed directly into its forehead.
Because the beast had been charging at breakneck speed, this interception caused it to stall midair for a fraction of a second. Yet its enormous mass and momentum failed to budge the Xuejun Saber even a fraction of an inch. After a breath or two, with a heavy thud, it crashed to the ground.
By then, its brain tissue, skeletal frame, and sinews had been completely pulverized by the concussive jin, leaving it sprawled like a shapeless mound of mud.
Chen Chuan planted the Xuejun Saber into the ground beside him, bent down, and pulled open the inner lining of the tent. As expected, numerous esoteric ritual patterns were drawn upon it.
Furthermore, to enhance the ritual's efficacy, they had skinned this unknown beast first, then stitched the tent directly onto its body.
Compared to the previous camp, this was a completely different style.
Examining the symbols, he noticed the style bore a resemblance to rituals of the First People. Was this done by people from the Linakes Federation?
After the First People were slaughtered and absorbed, much of what originally belonged to them had fallen into the hands of the Linakes people.
Viewed this way, the Consortium and the Linakes Federation were indeed operating together.
It seemed he needed to hasten his pursuit. However, after a full day's travel, the motorcycle's fuel was nearly depleted. Moreover, deeper in, the trees grew denser and the terrain increasingly treacherous; starting tomorrow, he would likely have to proceed on foot.
After weighing his options, he dragged the carcass outside the camp. Returning, he checked the perimeter once more, confirmed there were no other anomalies, and tidied up. Using materials nearby, he rekindled several campfires, scattered a fresh layer of repellent powder, and pitched his tent in a relatively dry spot.
By the time everything was prepared, dusk had not yet fully given way to night. Even so, he was ready to begin his cultivation. Calling Chaoming back, he zipped up the tent flap, raised the Xuejun Saber to cleave open a fissure, and sat down before it.
Cultivating in the Confluence accelerated the growth of spiritual power tremendously. Of course, part of this was due to the breach in the Ring of the World. If that gap were sealed, even if one could slash open a fissure, the benefits would likely be restricted.
At this thought, he realized that the continuous leakage of pure substance over the past several months was bound to have had widespread repercussions across the globe. Many fighters who previously had no hope of advancing might now find a path forward.
The world was changing. More and more talented individuals were emerging, which was a good thing for resisting the other world. However, the struggle for resources would inevitably intensify as well; seizing relics could perhaps be seen as an extension of that very contest.
Gazing at the fissure before him, he planted the Xuejun Saber into the ground beside him, marshaling his gathered spiritual power to welcome the quintessence and the unknown pouring through from the other side.
……
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Chapter 733