Fern spat blood, the green hue around his head and left shoulder diminishing as Zamian pulled him closer.

  He hadn’t expected his opponent’s speed to increase once more.

  Besides, not only had Zamian pierced through Fern’s armor and skin, but when he morphed his bladed hand into a claw, it had shredded the Chosen’s intestines, stomach, and one of his lungs.

  The pain was so intense, the shock so overwhelming, that Fern briefly blacked out. He only regained himself due to his mental fortitude and the burst of Nature’s essence that shot out of him.

  Now face to face with Zamian, Fern finally reacted. He slammed his forehead into Zamian’s skull while commanding all his green leaves to shred the glowing white cultivator.

  Zamian took the headbutt head-on.

  His vision blurred, similar to when he had a soul injury caused by Yokki.

  This time, however, his essence was stronger. Even as his sight faltered, his hearing remained sharp.

  Beyond that, the strange way he perceived essence, as waves flowing from their sources, was still active.

  That meant that even if he went completely blind, he could still see the flow of essence, as weird as that sounded.

  As he tightened his grip around Fern’s spine, breaking it with a muffled crack, and felt the countless leaves tearing his body, Zamian had two certainties.

  First, Fern was going to die here.

  Second, and more importantly, if he didn’t act soon, so would he.

  The white field surrounding him still flickered with orbs that resonated with him, even though he had no idea what they were or what he had done to create them.

  One thing was clear: his essence was being wasted to sustain whatever this was.

  Zamian’s eyes turned cold. He emptied his thoughts, and less than a second after breaking Fern’s spine, he hurled the Chosen against the wooden wall.

  He used so much force that a crater formed on impact, and some of Fern’s own green leaves, still swirling behind him, pierced into the Chosen’s body.

  Of course, Zamian saw that it was a ploy.

  He perceived waves of essence melting into Fern’s back, ready to shoot out from the Chosen’s chest and abdomen in his direction

  Hastily, Zamian dodged to the right just as dozens of green leaves zipped past his previous location.

  Fern grunted, gargling blood, while more of it leaked from the head-sized hole in his chest and abdomen.

  The right side of the Chosen’s face was bathed in crimson, part of his brain and tongue visible, as the green essence flowing through him flickered.

  Zamian’s situation wasn’t much better. Like Fern, only the essence infused in his body kept him in fighting condition.

  Observing the flow of Fern’s essence, Zamian noticed his opponent was trying to fortify his broken spine, probably to attempt an escape.

  After all, Fern’s ranged attacks were far more powerful and versatile than Zamian’s. There was no reason for the Chosen to willingly stay in close quarters.

  The moment the green leaves zoomed past him, Zamian rushed at Fern, leaping high and feinting a kick, his hands nearly touching the ceiling.

  Fern’s left eye gleamed as he sent the last green leaves within him shooting toward Zamian.

  Knowing his opponent wouldn’t choose to stay airborne, where dodging was nearly impossible, without a reason, Fern also felt that Zamian was planning something.

  But the Chosen had his own plans.

  Before the leaves could reach him, Zamian, glowing white, his legs and arms fully transformed into a larger, smoother, and reinforced bone carapace, elongated his claws slightly and dug them into the wooden ceiling.

  With a powerful pull, he propelled himself upward, crawling along the ceiling and walls toward Fern, as the wave of leaves mostly missed him.

  Zamian’s movements were fluid, completely under his control, yet so unnatural, so beyond human capability, that Fern had never accounted for it.

  No matter how many cultivators he had fought, no matter how many bizarre techniques he had witnessed, Fern didn’t expect those moves and now believed that his opponent’s control over his body was unmatched.

  Now, Zamian was directly above Fern, his right claw descending toward the man’s head, when he saw and felt a burst of essence erupt beneath the Chosen.

  His sharp claws touched Fern’s scalp just as the man’s body moved!

  Fern hadn’t regained movement in his legs, and for obvious reasons, he couldn’t crawl.

  But a giant leaf had emerged from the ground, most of Fern’s glowing essence focused on it, propelling his body forward along the root tunnel.

  Zamian kicked the wall, causing a thunderous noise and leaving a gaping hole, using his strength to chase the fleeing Fern.

  His instincts, still chaotic, failed him. He hadn’t noticed the Chosen’s plan. And because the burst of essence had come so suddenly and without preparation, even seeing the colorful waves hadn’t helped!

  It was almost like Fern had realized how easily Zamian had dodged his previous attack and had chosen the perfect countermeasure in the blink of an eye.

  ‘Why didn’t he use that sooner?’ Zamian suddenly thought, just as his vision completely darkened. Now, he could only perceive the world through the waves of essence and his mental sound spheres.

  After a second of pursuit, Zamian had his answer.

  Because Fern hadn’t been trying to escape before.

  Previously, the Chosen still harbored intentions of fighting Zamian, of subduing and capturing the young cultivator.

  But now, his only focus was fleeing.

  All of Fern’s essence, concentration, and intention were channeled into keeping the giant leaf beneath him, ensuring it gained more speed than Zamian.

  And it was accelerating.

  Even with Zamian’s previous jump propelling him forward and his empowered speed, little by little, the leaf was pulling away, growing an arm’s length ahead of him.

  Zamian still couldn’t hear any new enemies approaching, and with the complete lack of sound besides himself, Fern, and the distant movement of living roots, he guessed they were far underground.

  ‘Fitting, for the Deep Ground,’ another stray thought struck him, and with it, a realization. ‘Oh, blight… my mind…’

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Fern’s essence and intentions, deeply infused in the green leaves, were still corroding Zamian’s flow of Light’s essence and, more importantly, affecting his thoughts.

  He shouldn’t be having so many stray thoughts.

  Now, the distance between him and the hovering Fern, who was practically sprawled across his massive leaf, searching for the best escape route, had grown to two arm’s length.

  Most importantly, Zamian knew that time was against him.

  ‘If I stop the chase, I can break these walls, dig upwards, and leave this blighted place,’ he thought, his eyes shining while his instincts mumbled incoherently, even by his standards.

  ‘If I keep going, he might escape, find support, return to attack me, and I die. Or worse, I’ll die while chasing him if he has more hidden techniques,’ his head pounded.

  ‘I could leave now. Yes. Leave and come back later. Kill him later. He’s a vermin, but Elwood is worse. How bad would things be if I killed Fern, only for Elwood to find me and finish the job?’

  The distance between Zamian and Fern grew to three arms’ lengths.

  And the young cultivator’s mind filled with more thoughts.

  ‘Yes, this blighted piece of rotten bark was enslaving commoners, but why should I care? I don’t hate him for that! I hate him because he’s a viper, scheming against my father and me,’ he thought, dizziness creeping in. The glowing area around him, filled with flickering white orbs, began to diminish.

  As Zamian slowed down, glancing at the wall to his right, one of his white orbs hit him.

  ‘Awaken.’

  Like a school of fish rushing toward food, the other orbs surged toward him, colliding with his body. The white field around him condensed, retreating into him, making him shine with blinding light.

  Zamian’s was already darkened, and he could only perceive the flow of essence.

  But even then, he didn’t completely understand what was happening, as whiteness consumed his senses.

  But he could hear it.

  Not with his mental sound spheres.

  With his soul.

  He could hear and feel the message the white orbs were sending him.

  It was his will.

  ‘Awaken.’

  It didn’t form a single word, a single intent, or a single feeling.

  ‘Breaker of the natural order.’

  It was everything he was, given a single direction, a single purpose, shaping reality itself.

  ‘Bearer of a perpetual body.’

  When he had his breakthrough, merging with essence, he had already answered the Light’s essence when it demanded to know who he was.

  ‘Unshackled lifeform.’

  Now, he was declaring it not just to the Light’s essence but to the world itself.

  ‘Awaken.’

  His chosen path.

  ‘True Self.’

  As every white orb entered his body, the humanoid figure inside his soul space moved.

  Zamian commanded it to move.

  The specks of white light within it shone brilliantly as the figure’s right hand detached from the Soul Tome and pointed forward.

  A beam of white light shot into the black void, draining an enormous amount of Soul Force.

  And for the first time in a long, long time, Zamian saw flickering specks of white light within his soul space, depleted yet present.

  In the real world, his body was engulfed in a pure pillar of white light.

  A white life of text appeared before his eyes.

  +2000 Mind Points

  Zamian saw it.

  How he, his technique, and his path were still incomplete.

  Still in its early stages.

  Still too weak.

  Still waiting for him to walk and decide the next steps.

  The pillar of white light empowered him, and Zamian used his Soul Force to give a new form to his technique.

  Behind him, a white hand appeared. It was illusory, formed by a myriad of phantom white orbs.

  Zamian, shining, turned to Fern.

  The Chosen was now more than a few arm lengths away, and when Zamian looked at him, his instincts wailed.

  Fern felt it.

  Not just the immense burst of essence but the fear of having his mortal cycle end.

  Out of strength, out of options, Fern could do nothing but turn his head, willing the giant leaf beneath him to move faster. He poured the last remnants of his essence into it, desperate.

  As he glanced back, his eyes widened in horror.

  A pillar of white light overflowed with essence, its glow stronger than Zamian’s previous techniques.

  And within that light, Fern saw a hand formed of thousands of white orbs that began to take shape.

  It loomed behind Zamian, casting an eerie brilliance across the battlefield. The young man's body was barely visible amidst the radiance, but the hand was impossible to ignore.

  Slowly to the eye, yet faster than time itself, the hand made a grasping motion.

  Fern felt it.

  A soul technique unlike any other he had encountered.

  It didn’t tear at his soul.

  It didn’t harm him.

  Instead, it questioned him.

  ‘How did you come to be?’

  ‘Why do you struggle?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  Zamian’s will carried each question, repeating them, demanding answers.

  Fern’s eyes shook.

  An unbearable compulsion welled inside him.

  The green leaf beneath him flickered, its structure unraveling into raw essence as Fern’s own will faltered. His body tumbled onto the ground, rolling as blood poured from his mouth and chest.

  He coughed violently, his body trembling.

  “Lies! Lies!” Fern roared, his lone remaining eye shining with white light as he glared at Zamian.

  Meanwhile, the young cultivator quickly closed the distance, still trying to fully grasp what had happened.

  Zamian had attacked willingly. He had moved his soul. He had created the giant hand.

  It hadn’t been instinct.

  It hadn’t been out of control.

  He chose to do it.

  What he had attempted was a direct strike at Fern’s soul, using his will as a weapon. He was trying to replicate what he now understood as Yokki’s attack, while infusing his own intent and Light’s essence.

  The shape it took had simply formed, mirroring the same grasping motion he made to activate the Awakening of True Self technique in its original form.

  Zamian’s plan, however, had been simpler.

  He wanted the soul attack to disorient Fern, just as Yokki’s attack had done to him long ago. Make him dizzy, make him weaker, make it easier to finish him off.

  Never had he expected the attack to work so well that the man would completely lose control of his technique!

  Feeling Fern’s essence and intentions wreaking havoc inside him, Zamian drew inspiration from his past actions, of when he was tainted with Perpertuity’s essence, the red one, and willed Light’s essence to explode out of his body.

  A sharp headache pulsed behind his eyes. His white glow dimmed, and his transformation retreated, leaving only his arms reinforced.

  Still, he had mostly cleansed himself.

  “Lies! Blasphemer!” Fern shouted, blood and spit flying from his mouth.

  Huffing, Zamian approached him.

  With his essence vision, he noticed a lack of green waves radiating from Fern, a clear sign that the man was nearly out of Nature’s essence.

  Meaning that, in less than a minute, in one fight, Zamian had forced Fern to burn through nearly all of his power.

  But there was something else.

  White essence. Burrowing deep inside Fern’s body.

  “Disgusting blasphemer!” Fern howled, half of his face still bleeding, his voice broken and barely understandable as he choked on his own blood, half his teeth missing.

  Hearing Fern’s furious shouts, Zamian smirked.

  “So, me killing you is blasphemy?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t joke with me. You can be a vermin, but at least you used to keep your cool. Die with some honor, you rotten piece of wood.”

  Zamian raised his right arm, preparing to cleave Fern’s head in the middle.

  “I am not just a plant in God’s garden! I am one of his Chosen!” Fern shrieked, tears streaming from his one remaining eye as he looked past Zamian. “I didn’t come into this world just to be used! I am more! My Dahlia was taken from me by outsiders! Was that for nothing? Is this all for nothing?!”

  Zamian hesitated, his claws hovering mid-strike.

  The man wasn’t talking to him.

  Fern was talking to himself.

  “My life has meaning to me!” Fern choked, his broken body trembling, his remaining eye glowing a white hue. “I’m not just a plant waiting to be cultivated! I fought! I loved! I lost sons and daughters! I survived more than a hundred years! I protected this Sanctuary! I was faithful!”

  Zamian tried to infuse his eyes with essence, but his vision was still darkened.

  He wanted to see Fern’s soul. To understand what his technique had done to make this cold, calculating man break like this. To see how the white essence inside him was affecting him.

  Suddenly, Zamian sensed movement.

  He stepped back just in time to see Fern lunge, crawling on his stomach like a snake, his head snapping toward Zamian’s ankle, trying to bite him.

  Even deranged, Fern didn’t give up.

  “I follow Verdant God because his path is the correct one!” Fern screamed, his voice hoarse. “Nature is the Cycle, so our path is never-ending! Nature is the Creation, so our path is ever strong! Nature is the Truth, so our path—”

  His words cut off.

  Zamian’s foot slammed down, pinning Fern’s head to the ground.

  Coldly, pressing his foot against the man’s jaw, Zamian grinned.

  “Your path isn’t the only one, as his truth can’t shackle me,” he muttered, sending essence to his foot.

  Fern twitched, trying to bite down.

  However, Zamian pressed harder.

  With a sickening crack, Fern’s jaw dislocated, his bones crumbling under the force.

  “Nature can be Creation, by my body wasn’t made by him.”

  Zamian kept pressing down.

  Crack.

  The rest of Fern’s jaw shattered, his head caving under Zamian’s strength. Blood and bone smeared across the ground, his broken spine barely keeping his body together.

  His essence flickered.

  His blood flow stopped.

  His brain dying.

  In his last moment, Fern saw Zamian’s cold, glowing eyes.

  “And his cycle? I’ll break it myself, ending that rotten fake god’s life, just like I’m doing to you,” Zamian said.

  After hearing that sentence, Chosen Fern Leafblow, the first of his lineage to surpass the Zealot stage, a faithful believer of the Verdant God, once Commander of Sanctuary’s Exploration Army in the Desert, a feared and cold man, but most importantly, a grieving father and husband, died.

  Feeling no more essence coming from the corpse, Zamian stomped the Chosen’s head, turning what remained of his brain into mush.

  Dismissing his technique, leaving only a thin flow of essence to hold together his broken body, Zamian turned toward the wall.

  Only for a white text to blink into existence, even in his darkened vision.

  New Side Quest: Find the Oasis

  Reward: Ten-Thousand-Year Ginseng Root

  Status: Ongoing (7 days left)