Zamian locked eyes with Yokki’s shaken gaze for only a second before punching her in the face.

  Even as a mortal, the orange-haired woman seemed to anticipate his move and raised her wooden knife to block the attack.

  Of course, the knife, along with her hand, nose, and cheekbones, shattered.

  Yokki’s body flew through the air, crashing against the Root Cages on the far wall. Zamian noticed that when the cage was broken, its color dulled.

  The young cultivator wanted to ‘end both her and Calla’s mortal cycle’, but a noise from one of his mental sound spheres made him change his mind.

  Clenching his teeth, he moved to pick up Tulip and Soho—only to notice that Kurt’s eyes opening.

  Kicking him lightly, Zamian shouted, “Time to wake up, little flower! Pick up Uncle Soho and let’s flee.”

  ‘There are loud breaking sounds up there,’ he thought while throwing Tulip over his right shoulder and rushing to Bohlo’s side. ‘I need to find another exit.’

  Scooping Bohlo up and securing him over his left shoulder, he glanced at Kurt, who was carrying Soho with both arms, before bolting out of the room.

  Keeping his pace controlled, he ran ahead.

  “Great Sir!” Kurt shouted, sweating as his wide eyes darted around, trying to grasp the situation. Only because he had lived a hard life was he not completely clueless about what to do.

  He ran behind Zamian without hesitation.

  But that didn’t mean he didn’t have some reservations.

  “The exit isn’t that way!”

  “I know!”

  “We are going deeper!”

  “I know, Kurt.”

  “There are only cultivation rooms there!”

  “Save your breath and shut up!”

  Since they were moving at a slower pace than when Zamian had first carried Bohlo, mostly due to his current lack of essence, it took longer than just a few seconds to reach their destination.

  During their course, Bohlo and Tulip woke up. While the big guy was too dizzy to react, Tulip clenched her fists and shut her eyes, determined not to distract Zamian.

  Finally, they arrived in front of a broken wooden hallway, leading to a shattered door that opened into a familiar garden.

  And soon, they entered Zamian’s cultivation room.

  Dropping Bohlo and Tulip onto the ground, Zamian rushed to the stream and jumped in.

  The water barely reached his waist.

  Ignoring Tulip and Kurt’s shouts, he listened to the whispers of his instincts, which seemed eager to teach him how to move better inside the water.

  ‘Why did I never check this blighted thing?’ he cursed, reaching the garden’s walls and studying the roots and vines where the stream originated, and easily breaking a few. ‘This leads somewhere.’

  Zamian figured he could break through the building's walls and escape.

  But leaving alone was not his goal.

  In fact, he didn’t even know if escaping was possible for him.

  Kicking at the vines and roots, he tore through them quickly. Soon, another garden came into view.

  Smiling to himself, he did not go through. Instead, he rushed back.

  When he returned, he saw Tulip trying to wake Soho while Kurt stood near the door, looking concerned.

  Both turned toward him the moment they heard his footsteps.

  "Sir, we must go! There are powerful Chosen here! They locked us up!" Kurt said, stepping closer to Zamian.

  "Zamian!" Tulip shouted, rushing toward him and pulling him into a hug.

  At that moment, all eight of Zamian’s hearts skipped a beat.

  His mind focused entirely on controlling his body’s reactions.

  ‘Blighting technique that leaves me naked,’ he thought, carefully pushing Tulip away.

  Looking at her dark blue eyes and how sweaty she was, with strands of blonde hair sticking to her forehead, Zamian smiled inwardly.

  Then, he saw the scar on her lips.

  Blinking, he thought about everything that had happened today and made a decision.

  Letting go of her, he clicked his tongue.

  "I'm glad you are all okay, but we don’t have time to talk," he said, avoiding Tulip’s gaze and shifting his eyes to Bohlo instead. "More clearly, I want you all to leave, following the stream. At worst, it will take you out of the main building. At best, out of the Camp of Salvation."

  "What?" Tulip stepped back, her eyes widening. "What do you mean by wanting us to leave? What about you?"

  Zamian locked eyes with her.

  "I don’t need you anymore," he said. "Anyway, don’t be shocked. I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. You were only protecting yourself by staying close to me. After all, you lost your friend, failed your mission, realized your dream would never be achieved, and even saw a guy brutally murdering people stronger than you before he basically kidnapped you."

  Tulip’s eyes trembled as her eyes got wet, and she opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Zamian.

  Tulip’s eyes trembled as they filled with tears. She opened her mouth to speak, only for Zamian to cut her off.

  "Maybe you thought you liked me, but that was just your survival instinct. You wanted connections, meaning, something to hold onto. You didn’t want to live a worthless life, so you made sure someone liked you," he said, controlling his expression to maintain a cold demeanor. "That’s disgusting, but I’ve seen worse."

  She took a step back, shaking her head slightly, covering her mouth with one hand as she struggled to hold back her tears.

  "Keeping you close was the worst," Zamian smacked his lips. "You were all a waste of time. I hate weaklings like you. That was what I meant to say all this time, but I never cared enough to bother. You’re nice to have around, but that’s all. Now, you only have one use for me. Being bait."

  Her body trembled, and she spoke in a choked voice.

  "Wh-why are you saying this? You’re lying. You’re being hurtful. Why are—"

  She couldn't finish.

  Zamian slapped her.

  Her head jerked to the side.

  Tulip froze.

  Tears poured down her face as she touched her reddened cheek.

  Then, she felt Zamian’s cold gaze on her skin as he grabbed her by the neck and pulled her close to whisper in her ear.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Run, and be useful to me at least once, you rotten traitor."

  Zamian threw her to the ground in the direction of the stream’s passage.

  Tulip stumbled onto the grass, coughing, then sat there, staring at Zamian as tears streamed down her face.

  What met her eyes was a smirking, naked, pale cultivator, looking down at her with cold eyes.

  Her heart ached, and the pain she felt clouded her mind, making it impossible to understand the situation.

  She chose to flee.

  Zamian watched in silence as Tulip passed to the other garden, before turning to Kurt.

  "If something happens to her, I’ll kill you."

  In his 30-plus years of life, the bearded Great Warrior had never felt death so close as he did when he looked into Zamian’s dead eyes.

  This was not a simple threat.

  He could only nod slowly.

  "Follow her and take my uncle. Also, when you leave here, make sure Bohlo can cultivate. He needs to recover," Zamian commanded as he searched for clothes.

  Kurt moved quickly, holding Soho above one shoulder and pulling Bohlo by the arm.

  Before leaving, he turned back to Zamian, forcing himself to push past his fear.

  "Why are you trusting me to take care of them? I could just… leave them and run?"

  "Because you can be a coward, Kurt, but you’re a smart coward."

  "What? But…"

  Without letting him finish, Zamian glanced at him.

  "You were imprisoned by a group of Chosen, yet I still saved you. Not even the Lord Chosen and three other Chosen could stop me," he said, pulling on his shirt and pants. He lifted his head, staring at the white leaves on the ceiling. "If you betray my friends, you will never sleep in peace, always wondering when I’ll come for you."

  Kurt felt a chill crawl down his spine.

  Nodding twice, he said nothing more and ran in Tulip’s direction.

  As Zamian turned to the door, he heard a sluggish whisper.

  "I’ll be waiting for you, Z…" Bohlo muttered as Kurt dragged him away.

  With his enhanced hearing, Zamian could still hear their footsteps, along with Tulip’s cries.

  He moved the hand that had slapped Tulip and stared at his palm.

  "White Dot," he said. "Show me my information."

  PERSONAL INFORMATION

  Name: Zamian Greenfield

  Level: 3 [00%]

  Tier: Mortal

  Main Pathway: Knowledge

  Title: None

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 4200/7400

  Mind: 2200/7600

  Soul: 0200/7400

  REWARDS

  Ancient Astral Seal

  Description: A Star Seal guarding your Astral Self.

  Ancient Identify Technique (Passive)

  Description: See the secrets beyond the limitations of time.

  Nameless Physique

  Description: Breaker of the natural order, bearer of perpetual body, an unshackled lifeform.

  QUEST LOG

  Last Quest: Destroy an Unholy Sapling before the end of the month

  Reward: Special Physique (??)

  Status: Complete

  Side Quest (!): Protect Bohlo until he completes his breakthrough

  Reward: 01 Book from White Tower's First Floor

  Status: Ongoing (11 hours left)

  (!) Failure to complete this quest will bring ?? penalties

  Main Quest: Bring destruction to a Level 8 Immortal tainted by Godhood

  Reward: Inheritor’s Cave Entrance

  Status: Ongoing (90 days left)

  Dismissing the text, he kept staring at his palm.

  "I don’t have time to cultivate…" he muttered, then glanced at the White Dot. "Do you think I did the right thing? Do you think she would have left otherwise? If I had taken the time to explain? What if I die… would I dare make her wait for me? Living like father…"

  Receiving no answer, and now fully dressed, he stepped out of his cultivation room, retracing his steps.

  "They want me, not them," Zamian said, his senses still heightened as his attention moved through every single mental sound sphere. The Luminous Senses technique only spent essence to be activated, after all.

  "What if some of them were killed just because those vipers couldn’t get what they wanted? Could I live with that?"

  He stared at his palm as he walked through the destroyed hallways.

  "Did you know? If it weren’t for you, I would be killing myself right now," he murmured, clenching his fist and looking ahead with a cold gaze. "With me dead, they would have nothing to use against Father, and no reason to chase uncle Soho, Bohlo, or Tulip."

  Zamian took a deep breath, smiling as he closed the distance to his destination.

  "But because of you, I can see a path ahead," he grinned. "A path of slaughter, suffering, and revenge, sure, but," he chuckled, "also a path of hope, leading to happiness, where I am once more with the ones I love."

  Arriving at the door of the room where he had found Tulip and the others, Zamian saw Yokki, passed out and bleeding, being tended to by a wounded Calla.

  The old Chosen now wore wooden armor, seemingly using it to stabilize her injuries.

  ‘Thank you for giving me hope,’ he thought, glancing at the White Dot before shifting his focus to the women ahead.

  Calla tensed, noticing Zamian’s arrival, and immediately jumped away from Yokki. Her eyes glowed with green light, but the surge of essence coming from her was weaker than before.

  "Brat! Coming back here, how brave of you!" she shouted, enhancing her body with essence.

  Zamian chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as he crossed his arms.

  "Old vermin, the people up there seem busy. Shout louder, or they won’t hear you," he smirked.

  Calla’s eyes trembled as she screamed, "He’s here! At the Root Prison Room! Lord Chosen! Fern! Come here!"

  Neither of them felt a spike of essence approaching, nor did they hear shouts getting closer.

  Zamian smacked his lips. "Why don’t you go up there and bring them yourself? Save us both some time, and as a nice little bonus, I won’t have to listen to your annoying voice or look at that ugly nose."

  Chosen Calla didn’t know how to react.

  "What? Afraid? You’re a Chosen, and I’m a Zealot. Come on," he said, then shrugged, stepping away from the door.

  Calla took a step back.

  Zamian kicked a few roots out of the way and leaned against one of the walls, gesturing toward the door.

  "See? You can just go. Worst case scenario, I flee," he said, crossing his arms.

  The old Calla dragged Yokki to the other side of the room, placing herself between Zamian and the unconscious woman.

  She seemed to be analyzing her best course of action, glancing at the door with glowing green eyes, searching for traps.

  "How’s your chest, by the way?" Zamian asked, pointing at her with his chin. "I hope something important broke there."

  Sneering, Calla stared at him. "Even if you can kill me, the Lord Chosen and the other Chosen will torture and imprison you and your friends," her eyes gleamed. "And before you let that young and hopeful head of yours dream too much, don’t forget we are all followers of the Verdant God and his Children. There will never be a safe place for you in the Sanctuary."

  "Why?" Zamian asked, his voice devoid of emotion. "Why couldn’t I be just another cultivator living in peace in the Sanctuary? Why turn my mother into a Saintess? Why are you trying to get my father?"

  It didn’t seem like Calla would answer, as she kept her mouth shut.

  Zamian wanted to keep pressing, but he heard strong footsteps in one of his spheres and focused on them. Whoever was approaching didn’t care about making noise or destroying the place.

  Walking to the center of the room, he scratched his head as Calla took a few steps back.

  Shrugging, he raised his hands and motioned toward the door. "Another viper is coming."

  With a loud crash, Fern tumbled into the room, shattering part of the wall.

  Zamian raised an eyebrow, lowering his hands slowly.

  "We need to go!" Fern shouted, his armor cracked and stained with blood. His gaze landed on Zamian, and he scowled, hastily conjuring a wooden spear and taking a defensive stance.

  Zamian’s nose twitched as an acidic, sour smell filled the air. It was the first scent, besides blood, that managed to overpower the earthy and natural fragrance of the place.

  "Where are his friends?" Fern demanded, glaring at Calla as he positioned himself between her and Zamian, his back to his fellow Chosen.

  "He took them and came back alone," Calla replied, her eyes glowing as a thick, green viscous liquid large enough to fill a wooden bowl seeped from her body. It splashed against Fern, slipping into the cracks of his armor. "Be careful, he has a strong attack, akin to a Chosen. I’m hurt and low on essence."

  Zamian smiled inwardly as he listened to his instincts.

  ‘She’s hurt but not low on essence. Such an old viper.’

  "I know, he killed Chosen Hazel and injured the Lord Chosen with it," Fern said, making his spear glow as he stared at Zamian. "Because of him, the situation is even more dangerous!"

  Calla muttered, "Dangerous? What about the Children? Weren’t they close? How come they haven’t arrived yet?"

  "We thought they would return, but instead, that brute Marlos appeared and is fighting against the Lord Chosen and the remaining three," Fern scowled.

  Zamian laughed out loud, catching their attention.

  "This is amazing," he said, spreading his arms. "I don’t know what makes me happier! The Children abandoning you, the bald man not being a viper, or three of your friends being dead!"

  Fern’s eyes gleamed. "We need to capture him alive."

  Calla bit her lip. "There are still the kids down at the Healing Room. Maybe we can use them," she said, stepping beside Fern and shooting him a glance.

  As they exchanged looks, Zamian waved his hand.

  Fern instantly conjured a giant leaf, using it as a shield, while Calla picked up Yokki and rushed toward the door.

  Zamian stopped mid-wave and frowned. "No need for all that. I’ll go with you, blighted vipers," he said with a smile.

  While he was speaking, Fern leaped to the door, creating dozens of giant leaf shields and spreading them throughout the room, covering the walls and ceiling.

  The space became bathed in a bright green hue.

  He picked up some of the broken cages' remains and noticed how they failed to drain his essence. Of course, even if they could, there was nothing left inside him to be siphoned.

  Shrugging, Zamian searched for an intact Root Cage and dragged it to the middle of the room.

  ‘Sorry, kids. Better they get you than follow Bohlo and the others,’ he thought, entering the cage.

  A few minutes later, with a booming sound, the room trembled as the giant leaves shifted, opening a space wide enough for two people to pass side by side.

  Zamian smiled when he saw the arriver’s conditions.

  In front of him, bleeding and glowing with a dark green hue, hovered the Lord Chosen, a few palms above the ground, with Fern at his right side.

  Curiously, Lord Chosen Elwood’s right arm was missing below the elbow, leaving only a closed, bloody stump, while Fern didn’t have his right arm at all.

  Behind him stood two Chosen, their wooden armor cracked as they leaned on each other for support.

  Zamian grinned and shouted, "You and Fern make a nice couple, Elwood! Giving each other a hand in trying times is the mark of a strong relationship!"

  Elwood stood silent for a second before his cold eyes flashed with rage.

  "I need him alive, but don’t you dare bring him to me with all his limbs intact! Go quickly before that brute arrives here!"

  The two injured Chosen rushed toward Zamian while Fern began conjuring a technique, motes of green light gathering around him.

  Behind Elwood, a massive image of an old trunk appeared.

  Zamian grinned as he recalled his quests and rewards, already reviewing his plans.

  ‘You can tear my limbs apart, but unless you kill me, I’ll someday get your rotten head, vermin Elwood.’