‘Now!’

  As the gleaming metallic leaves were about to pierce Zamian’s bone carapace, a stronger force struck his back, triggering a small explosion that propelled him forward.

  The white orb had followed his command, returning at full speed. But instead of entering his body through the glowing hole in his chest, it crashed into him, dissolving into Light’s essence and being the little explosion’s cause.

  Completely focused on Fern, who had just missed his spear attack due to Zamian’s sudden lurch forward, Zamian barely registered that the orb hadn’t infused any essence into him.

  But he had only gained fractions of a second.

  The leaves were still coming.

  Zamian’s bladed right arm morphed into a claw as he grasped Fern’s outstretched spear, pulling it closer.

  Fern’s eyes shone a stronger green light as he released the weapon, willing it to dissipate. The wooden spear slowly unraveled into green essence, while another shaft materialized in the Chosen’s hand.

  Zamian’s left arm, still sharp and pulsing with white veins, swept toward Fern.

  That’s when dozens of green leaves finally struck Zamian’s back, burrowing into his bone armor, tearing through muscle, and disrupting his flow of essence.

  Fern remained cold and composed, even as Zamian’s bladed arm closed in.

  One must remember that Fern had no right arm. He had just used his remaining arm to attack Zamian, had been forced to dissipate his previous weapon, and was still conjuring a new one.

  That was why Zamian could press him.

  But Fern was an experienced Chosen, a warrior who had fought Warlords for years.

  As Zamian’s blade-hand was about to cut him, a barrier of green leaves formed between them. Most were slashed away by the sheer force of the attack, but enough remained to slow the strike.

  Fern’s previous attack targeted not just Zamian but also hit behind and in front of him.

  The path Zamian and Fern were on was filled with green leaves.

  The one-armed Chosen tried to create distance between himself and Zamian, aware of their difference in speed but attempting to exploit Zamian’s distraction.

  Amidst Zamian’s sweeping strikes, his sharp arm morphed, reshaping into a five-clawed hand.

  His muscles bulged, slightly increasing his reach just enough to grab Fern by his armor and yank him closer.

  Fern’s instincts whispered to him at first, assuring him that the battle’s flow was under his control. Calmly, he sent essence to dismantle the part of his armor that Zamian had barely touched.

  After all, his thoughts and the movements of his Nature’s essence were faster than the white monster’s attack.

  Zamian’s instincts, on the other hand, were frenzied as the flow of his Light’s essence was being disrupted by Fern’s invasive leaves.

  If he had time, he could counteract and destroy them, as he did once with the green leaf taken from inside Bohlo.

  But, as demonstrated by his previous opponent, the greatsword user, in a battle between high-level cultivators, wasting even a second could be fatal.

  Through Zamian’s enhanced senses, every detail of Fern’s movements and the leaves swirling around them was painfully clear.

  From the sweat gathering on his enemy’s brow to the hidden glowing leaves burrowed underground instead of attacking, nothing escaped him.

  But knowing wasn’t enough.

  He wasn’t strong enough. Nor fast enough.

  His only saving grace was that, within all of his mental sound spheres, he detected no approaching enemies.

  For now, this battle was between him and Fern.

  As the leaves pressed deeper into his muscles, slicing further inside his body, Zamian unleashed a blinding white light.

  His right hand, now free, shot toward Fern’s face, while his left clenched a broken, dissipating piece of the Chosen’s armor.

  An enormous burst of essence erupted from Zamian.

  Fern’s eyes widened.

  The one-armed Chosen immediately recognized this was the same overwhelming surge of essence he had felt just moments ago.

  It was the same surge of essence that had previously prompted Fern to check on the two Chosen he had sent to bring Zamian back.

  And for the first time in this fight, Fern was genuinely surprised.

  Because now, in front of him, the white, faceless monster shrunk in size, the green leaves falling from its body as they lost their surface to cling to, revealing the one he was fighting against.

  Zamian Greenfield.

  The pale young cultivator was naked, his glowing white eyes locked onto his target, his right fist closing in a grasping motion.

  Fern saw the punch coming, his shock fading as soon as it came. He quickly adjusted, no longer trying to avoid Zamian but instead thrusting his spear directly at him!

  He was certain Zamian’s technique had just ended!

  After all, he had spoken with Calla and Elwood, and they had theorized that Zamian couldn’t maintain his transformation for long, but only for split seconds.

  Besides, he had hit the young cultivator with dozens of his special leaves. That meant Zamian’s essence flow had been disrupted and probably was the cause of his transformation to dissipate, in Fern’s opinion.

  Most importantly, the experienced Chosen saw an opening.

  Zamian’s body was completely unprotected. There was no Nature’s Embrace, no defensive technique to stop the spear from piercing his flesh.

  Fern had already spent too much essence conjuring Myriad Leaves, carefully controlling their shape, speed, and direction.

  A part of him even feared that Zamian’s father or Marlos had somehow found their way here. After all, how else could the young man have escaped?

  Not even a Chosen like him could break free from the Root Prison without help.

  So, to conserve energy, exploit Zamian’s vulnerability, and swiftly subdue his opponent, Fern made the decision to end the battle with a single enhanced spear thrust!

  As the one-armed cultivator closed the distance, Zamian grinned widely.

  His body was riddled with wounds, his bones fractured, his essence leaking, but still, he moved—his form converging in a white light.

  Light essence swirled around him, hesitating, pausing just outside his skin as he completed his grasping motion and shifted his intent.

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  Fern was partially right. Zamian’s transformation had ended.

  But not due to a lack of control.

  Not due to a lack of essence.

  Not because anything or anyone had forced him to.

  Zamian had willed it to happen.

  He was creating an opening for Fern, exploiting the fact that the dozens of green leaves embedded in his body would fall the moment the technique was dismissed, allowing him to regain just enough control.

  Enough to conjure the Awakening of True Self once more.

  Fern’s spear reached Zamian’s chest in an instant, piercing the left side, where his heart and lung should be.

  Zamian’s body halted from the sheer force of the strike, Light essence surrounding him as he vomited blood.

  Fern’s eyes glinted with satisfaction as he channeled more of Nature’s essence into his spear, aiming to cause further internal damage.

  A blinding white light erupted.

  Acting on reflex, he detonated his spear with a burst of green essence, commanding the burrowed leaves to shoot toward Zamian.

  But Zamian was already halfway transformed, his body shifting into the monstrous white form.

  Fern didn’t scream, even as the right side of his face was torn apart. Blood, bone, and muscle splattered onto the ground, while a dark green glow engulfed his head as he concentrated Nature’s essence there.

  Gritting his remaining teeth, he kicked off the ground, forcing distance between them.

  Zamian wasn’t faring much better.

  The explosion from the spear had destroyed two more of his hearts, and his essence had yet to stabilize.

  Not only that, his transformation remained incomplete, his legs and part of his arms fully transformed, while the rest of his body appeared twisted, mismatched between his human form, and the white, smooth shining bone carapace.

  But no pain, no wound, nothing would stop him from chasing Fern!

  The root cave trembled violently, cracks forming along the walls as if the entire structure was about to collapse.

  Fern shot backward, propelled by controlled bursts of green explosions at his feet. He never turned his back on Zamian, refusing to give his opponent another opening!

  His instincts weren’t just screaming but wailing, warning him that this could be his last battle.

  The pain was unbearable. Blood dripped from his half-destroyed face, and he was fleeing purely on instinct. He hadn’t even processed everything that had happened; just half of his focus was on preventing the wound from worsening and slowing him down further.

  Fern was only alive because he had fought, and won, against stronger enemies and with the worst odds.

  On the other side, Zamian’s instincts were also in a frenzy, feeding him pointers, sometimes of how to chase better, othertimes of how to heal faster, how to close the gap. A myriad of insights flooded his mind.

  However, amidst the valuable information, there were also jumbled, incoherent whispers, murmurs about the length of his arms, how to break his own bones.

  One couldn’t forget that his instincts were still affected by Fern’s technique, even though the previous leaves were no longer in his body.

  Worst of all, there was a shower of green metallic leaves about to hit him. Even if he caught Fern, he wouldn’t escape unscathed.

  With his thoughts clouded by the overwhelming desire to kill the one-armed cultivator, Zamian pressed forward.

  In this kind of battle, the more you thought, the more you hesitated, the worse it became.

  There was no room for self-doubt.

  No time to waste.

  Yet, even amid the chaos and the whirlwind of combat, Zamian found time to think about something he heard from his instincts!

  Even screaming, whispering, mumbling, they revealed one crucial piece of information!

  If not for his enhanced Luminous Technique, which allowed him to analyze himself even while in motion, he would never have recognized the opportunity.

  His eyes gleamed.

  His half-morphed body pulsed with power.

  Summoning every speck of Light essence he could control, he sent it surging to his chest, making it glow brilliantly!

  From the center of his torso, a hole formed, radiating a pure white hue.

  And from it, a spinning, fist-sized orb shot forward, hurtling toward Fern at a speed far greater than the Chosen’s previous attacks or even his own leaves.

  After all, Zamian had conjured his Awakening of True Self again, so, of course, the white orb had been conjured back!

  Surprisingly, however, even in his dire state, Fern reacted.

  The Chosen’s only remaining arm moved, green light bursting forth as he poured Nature’s essence into it.

  It wasn't to fortify it, but for something else.

  As the orb entered his left arm, Fern’s remaining eye flared with a vivid green glow, and he let out a howl.

  Nature’s Embrace activated.

  Blood erupted from his shoulder.

  Zamian roared, caught between rage and surprise, as Fern’s left arm exploded while taking the white orb with it!

  Fern had seen a similar orb strike Elwood and a female Chosen on the now-destroyed Camp of Salvation, the day they apprehended Zamian.

  He had witnessed firsthand how a Chosen had died because of it!

  Of course, she had been weakened, fighting for days, drained of essence. But it was undeniable that Zamian’s orb technique had killed her, and back then, he was still just a Zealot!

  And now?

  Now, Fern was beginning to doubt whether Zamian was still the same as a week ago.

  But doubts did not cloud his mind.

  He had faced death before and knew the cost of hesitation. He would rather lose his arm than his life.

  It wouldn’t be the first time he made such a choice!

  Meanwhile, the shining green leaves slashed, pierced, and tore through Zamian’s body, most of them striking his back and arms.

  Blood poured from the unprotected areas where his Awakening of True Self was incomplete. The rest of his body leaked Light’s essence, unable to keep it contained.

  Worse still, Fern’s reckless but calculated decision had increased his speed once again, and Zamian knew he wouldn’t be able to reach him so quickly.

  As they turned a corner, both of them slowed slightly, but the swirling leaves continued to lash at Zamian, more of them digging into his flesh.

  He gritted his teeth. His body was filled with Fern’s essence, and foreign intentions, perturbing his instincts, obstructing the flow of his Light’s essence.

  The white sphere within his chest, now reconstructing, would take minutes to fully reform.

  But he didn’t have minutes.

  Forget even a full minute. Zamian estimated he had no more than ten seconds left before his body collapsed under the current waves of attacks, even if he went fully defensive.

  The thought made him think of his father.

  He thought about how Dante had battled, perhaps still fighting, against Chosen, Warlords, and whatever else life threw at the man.

  Not for a few seconds.

  Not for some minutes.

  Not just a day.

  ‘Weeks,’ Zamian thought, gritting his teeth. ‘He’s struggling for weeks, and I can’t even fight for a minute?’

  He shouldn’t have let his mind wander.

  He shouldn’t have been thinking about his father.

  Not now, not in the middle of a chase against such a powerful opponent.

  A veteran of war who had willingly sacrificed his remaining arm rather than lose his life.

  Zamian knew he should keep focus.

  But he was bleeding, battered, overwhelmed by the dissonant whispers and screams of his instincts, failing to fully use his technique, unable to correct the flow of his essence…

  Now, for some reason, he could only think about his loved ones.

  ‘I won’t lose to this vermin,’ he thought, his glowing white eyes flashing as his body became a chaotic mix of red blood and white essence.

  ‘I’ll kill him. I’ll find father. I’ll protect Bohlo… And I’ll kiss Tulip!’

  Light’s essence burst from his body. And it was not just because of Fern’s technique draining him, but because Zamian was actively wasting it.

  He let it spill out, flooding the cave, drowning the entire battlefield in his will.

  A collection of his intentions, shaped into reality through Light’s essence, using his Soul Force, just like he had done once before when fighting Calla.

  That was the will of a cultivator!

  Fern felt the burst and immediately commanded his leaves to return, forming a shield in anticipation of some final attack from Zamian.

  Zamian’s eyes were bloodshot, his teeth flowing with essence as he bit down on the leaf in his mouth.

  A resounding crack echoed through the battlefield.

  With a single enhanced bite, the leaf was destroyed!

  The space around Zamian, which was nearly the entire section of this root, shone with an intense white light.

  Orbs began to form and collapse rapidly, his essence draining at an alarming rate.

  Not a single orb fully materialized! Most of them lacked intent, just raw Light’s essence struggling to take shape in the field flooded by Zamian’s power.

  But a few of them did carry Zamian’s will.

  Fern launched his leaves at Zamian and at the chaotic swarm of orbs forming around him, but he took too long to notice two of them materializing behind him.

  He felt nothing when they struck him, but then a voice resonated inside Fern’s mind.

  ‘Awaken.’

  The words were laced with apathy.

  Fern immediately expelled the invading voice, recognizing it as a weak soul technique.

  He kept his body enhanced, his intentions flowing seamlessly within him.

  The Chosen had faced worse.

  However, he wasn’t prepared for what came next.

  Thousands upon thousands of orbs formed around Zamian, constantly appearing and vanishing, encompassing not only the young cultivator but also Fern himself!

  Some were illusory, fading into nothing the moment they touched him.

  But even those slowed him down, forced him to react, as he commanded his leaves to strike every orb that approached.

  Of course, he knew this couldn’t continue.

  Without hesitation, he commanded every leaf to form a protective vortex around him, similar to the cage he had once used to transport Zamian from the Camp of Salvation to the Deep Ground.

  Fern began forming a new plan, recognizing that it would take at least a minute to escape this Root’s segment and reach a point where other Chosen might sense the burst of essence radiating from them.

  Before, he had expected Zamian to burn through his essence and drop dead from his previous wounds.

  Amidst the construction of his new plans, his partial focus on controlling his technique, and dealing with fatal wounds, something happened that he never expected.

  As more orbs materialized, striking him, as he solidified his defensive vortex of leaves, a white blade, tainted with Nature’s essence but still gleaming with Light’s power, pierced his chest!

  The white, muscled arm connected to the blade was being shredded, its owner bleeding and tearing apart alongside it.

  Zamian shouted, and before Fern could retreat, his arm elongated.

  The bladed hand twisted, morphing into a claw, and clamped onto Fern’s spine.

  Zamian yanked him closer, even as his own body was being ripped by the swirling vortex of green leaves.

  He grinned.

  There was no time to speak, but in this moment, one thought consumed him.

  ‘Today you will die, vermin Fern!’