As the noise outside grew, akin to the world’s collapse, Zamian’s and the others’ instincts finally reacted to the looming threat. Each of them used essence to empower their bodies—except for Zamian.

  Kurt’s mind was overtaken by panic, and he bolted toward the tunnel’s entrance, his steps glowing with a brown hue. Tulip, on the other hand, froze after briefly flashing a green light, her thoughts unable to fully process the danger.

  Meanwhile, Bohlo rushed to Zamian, his gaze filled with fear but unshaken. “Z, let’s get out of here!”

  Zamian’s eyes flashed white as a memory surfaced—the first time he met Lin Zhi, that monstrous being, and was struck by a tiny green ball that brought him to the brink of death—or perhaps even beyond it. ‘My instincts weren’t this scared back then, or in any of my other battles.’

  Calmly analyzing the situation, time seemed to slow for him. He activated the Beginning of the Cycle technique, fusing Nature’s Embrace and Everbark.

  As his body began to shine with a green hue, his skin, muscles, hair, and nails transformed into a wooden texture. Tendrils of green light coated him like sap, forming a stronger, bulkier, and more flexible wood-like material. His size expanded, his body reshaping into a bald, muscled creature, with only his eyes visible—and even those alternated between flashing green and white.

  ‘My instincts aren’t reacting to the threat of life—they’re being influenced,’ he realized, finishing his transformation. ‘Maybe it’s the same for the others.’

  Once his thoughts settled, Zamian moved.

  Kicking the ground with explosive force, he destroyed the hideout’s wall, grabbing Bohlo with his left arm and tucking him securely under his armpit. His friend didn’t even have time to react.

  Without slowing down, Zamian charged toward Tulip, scooping her up under his right arm and holding her firmly in place.

  Leaving a trail of destruction behind him, he dashed toward Kurt, shouting in a rough, stuffy voice, “Hold on to me if you want to live!”

  Seeing Zamian’s wooden form barreling toward him, just as he was about to enter the tunnel, Kurt hesitated, scowling. Then, he screamed in frustration, “Arrrghh!”

  Fueled by self-directed anger, Kurt leaped onto Zamian, climbing onto his back and clinging to the wooden creature’s neck as if his life depended on it—which it did.

  “I don’t want to die!” Kurt kept screaming.

  And Zamian kept running, crashing through the forest. ‘My leg doesn’t hurt anymore,’ he thought with relief, his pace relentless.

  Kicking through another of the hideout’s walls, Zamian didn’t even glance at the tunnel’s entrance—it was far too small for his current form to fit, and he didn’t dare risk crawling while racing against the fog, vines, and mountains of moving earth.

  ‘I won’t outrun it,’ Zamian realized as he left the hideout. The booming sound of falling trees and shifting earth grew deafening. ‘I need to get out of its range.’

  Taking a sharp turn to the right, Zamian leaped, using trees as leverage to propel himself forward, breaking their trunks in the process. Splinters scratched Kurt, Tulip, and Bohlo as he carried them, but he couldn’t afford to slow down.

  Even without the support of his arms, Zamian’s body moved faster than ever, each step and jump accelerating him further. He focused on minimizing harm to his "passengers", pushing stray thoughts aside to refine his movements.

  Just like during the battle from the day before, the more he ran, the more his body adapted. He instinctively learned how to run faster, how to subtly shift his muscled wooden form for maximum speed, and how to step on the ground or trees to increase momentum. The flashing of white and green light in his eyes became more frequent.

  ‘Did it work?’ As he had been focused on fleeing on a diagonal line, not only to run away from the wave of vines and earth but also to leave its range, he checked behind for the first time.

  And Zamian felt a chill running up his spine, even with his wooden muscles.

  The red fog, closely followed by vines as big as Colossal Tree’s roots and mountains of moving earth, was still coming in his direction.

  ‘Blighted thing, why did you take a turn!’ Zamian cursed inwardly, readying himself to sprint again when something caught his eye—a flash of green amidst the red fog. One of the massive vines coiled and hurled a green dot in his direction.

  When the dot shot out from the fog, a red text materialized above it:

  [LEVEL 4 - MORTAL TIER - ?? PATHWAY (IMPURE)]

  Frozen, Zamian’s breath caught as he stared, his instincts flaring. Then, as the green dot drew closer, it began to take shape.

  His heart raced, filled with both hope and dread as he recognized the figure.

  The green light revealed a man—Dante, his father.

  Shining with a dark green hue, Dante was covered in intricate wooden armor that left his hands, feet, and head exposed. His long white hair danced wildly in the wind as he soared toward Zamian.

  With a swift motion, Dante punched the air, summoning a massive vine from the ground far below. It shot up and coiled beneath his feet, holding him aloft for a brief moment before hurling him toward Zamian and the others.

  While happiness and concern flooded Zamian’s heart, he forced himself to stay composed, the red fog and wave of destruction still looming behind his father.

  As Dante drew closer, Zamian felt the ground beneath him shift.

  His overwhelmed instincts weren’t enough to guide him, forcing Zamian to rely on his newfound control over his body to keep from falling as a massive vine surged up from the earth beneath him.

  When father and son were finally close enough to see each other clearly, Zamian’s heart sank. Dante’s lips twitched, alternating between a crazed, bestial grin and a serene, almost unnatural smile. His eyes flickered lifelessly one moment, then burned with unhinged ferocity the next.

  “Dad! Are you okay?” Zamian shouted, his stuffy, hoarse voice tinged with worry.

  Dante didn’t answer. Instead, he moved his hands in strange, deliberate motions, stepping onto the same massive vine that now supported Zamian.

  Thin tendrils sprouted from the vine, reaching out like grasping fingers to ensnare Dante, Zamian, Tulip, Bohlo, and Kurt.

  Zamian felt his stomach lurch as the giant vine suddenly plunged downward, burrowing into the ground with terrifying speed.

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  “Ahhhh!” Kurt screamed, his voice breaking with raw panic.

  Tulip’s face was streaked with blood, her eyes squeezed shut as she clung desperately to Zamian’s arm.

  Bohlo, in stark contrast, was silent, his wide eyes taking in the chaos around them. He didn’t make a sound, letting Zamian carry him as he had from the beginning.

  Another wave of dark green light radiated from Dante, and countless smaller vines sprouted from the central one, weaving together to form a protective cocoon around the group just before they hit the earth.

  Feeling like he was moving faster than ever before, with only the green glow emanating from his father’s body to illuminate the enclosed space, Zamian forced his emotions to steady once again.

  He turned his head to the still-screaming Kurt. “Shut up.”

  Kurt, trembling all over, immediately clamped his mouth shut. He kept hugging Zamian’s neck tightly, his fear almost palpable in the dim, greenish light.

  In the ensuing silence, Zamian’s gaze locked onto Dante’s, whose own eyes bore into him despite the erratic twitching of his face.

  “Are you... okay?” Zamian managed to ask, his wooden body tense.

  Dante nodded, then immediately shook his head in denial.

  The white-haired cultivator didn’t break eye contact, staring at Zamian as his son’s blinking eyes—alternating between white and green—slowed and settled to the usual dark brown color.

  After a few moments, Zamian gently set Bohlo and Tulip down. Kurt, though visibly terrified, was sharp enough to let go of Zamian’s neck and collapse onto the ground. Vines still held them all loosely, subtly adjusting to ensure no one was jostled or thrown off by the rapid burrowing and shifting movements of the giant vine.

  As the tendrils held them in place, everyone’s heightened instincts began to calm. Bohlo, Tulip, and Kurt stayed on the ground, trying to collect themselves in the quiet.

  Zamian, meanwhile, ended his transformation. As soon as the vines allowed, he stepped toward his father and gave the man a tight hug.

  Dante hugged him back with his left arm.

  Pulling away, Zamian shook his head and gave a wry smile. “I was worried about you, old man.”

  When Dante didn’t respond verbally, Zamian bit his lip, stealing a glance at the trio behind him before focusing on his father again. His gaze turned serious.

  “Can you understand me?”

  Dante nodded.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Another nod.

  “Even in that wooden form, you recognized me?”

  Dante nodded once more.

  Zamian clenched his fists, letting a small smile creep onto his face. “Do you think you’re ugly?”

  Dante shook his head.

  “Did you have another child?”

  Dante’s expression continued to shift, but he shook his head once more.

  Sighing in relief, Zamian thought, ‘Communication is possible!’

  If his father had only nodded without reason or failed to grasp the full meaning of Zamian’s words, then Zamian’s next actions would have been fruitless.

  “Dad, I don’t know how much time we have, but are you aware of the invasion?”

  A nod.

  “Did you fall and flee from their trap?”

  A shake, then a nod.

  “Wh—You didn’t fall into the trap?”

  A nod.

  “Wait, wait,” Zamian massaged his temples. “Did you know about the trap?”

  Another nod.

  “Why did you—” Remembering his father’s condition, Zamian paused and changed his words. “Were you involved in planning this trap?”

  Dante shook his head.

  “Dad… Ah, I have an idea! Can you somehow write using these vines? Or on the floor?”

  Dante shook his head and, to prove his point, the tendrils moved, forming letters and words that, when put together, made no sense.

  Looking at his father with a concerned expression, Zamian realized his father couldn’t control the intricate intent behind the vine’s movements—his mind was dealing with far more than anyone could see.

  “I could write for you, based on your head’s nodding and shaking, but…” Zamian concluded silently, ‘I don’t know when something might happen, and I have more urgent questions—and so much more to say.’

  “Could you… make those soundproof vines again? We need to talk in private,” Zamian asked.

  A green light moved from Dante’s feet, and long vines filled with flowers emerged. The space between them grew tight, but it would have to do.

  “Was the red fog following you… the one from below our house?” Zamian muttered, not wasting time. He knew his father would be the only one to recognize it.

  Dante nodded.

  Scratching his head, Zamian stopped himself from asking a dozen more questions all at once. ‘Yeah, things are never so simple.’

  “Dad, that gift of mine allowed me to discover some things,” he said, pausing. “I’ll share everything I know with you now. If there’s anything that catches your attention, let me know.”

  After seeing Dante nodding once more, Zamian began recounting everything he could about his recent revelations.

  He told his father about learning the cycle of nature, his insights into death and the birth of his own body, and the external visualization method.

  Zamian shared his belief that the Verdant God somehow blocked the concept of death, his creation of the Beginning of the Cycle technique, and his breakthrough to becoming a Zealot through actions inspired by farmers.

  Finally, he mentioned the existence of white and red essence and his theory that he could cultivate dual pathways without becoming tainted.

  Out of respect for his father’s previous wishes, Zamian avoided discussing the White Tower, Lin Zhi, his stats, or other aspects directly tied to the White Dot—besides topics like the Red World, which he deemed too dangerous given his father’s current condition. ‘There’s no way I can talk about mom right now,’ Zamian thought.

  Even though he tried to summarize, his shortened version still took time. Yet, Dante never nodded or shook his head to interrupt.

  When Zamian finally stopped, he stared at his wordless father and suddenly laughed. “Don’t worry, old man, you’re more responsive than the other mute I have to deal with.”

  Dante’s eyes flickered, and for a fleeting moment, Zamian thought he saw relief in them.

  Placing a hand on his father’s shoulder, Zamian whispered, “Love you, Dad.”

  Dante nodded three times.

  Love. You. Kiddo. Zamian smiled, imagining his father’s unspoken message.

  Glancing at the giant vine they were standing on, Zamian prepared to carve an alphabet into the bark to try another form of communication in the dim greenish light when he felt the vine suddenly lurch upward.

  Before he could react, the soundproof vines and cocoon crumbled, and the group of five was thrust back onto the surface.

  The tiny tendrils holding Zamian and the others in place fell away as well. Squinting against the sudden brightness, Zamian barely adjusted his vision before a powerful force slammed into his chest.

  Dante had struck him with an open palm.

  A gale of green essence surged from his father, pushing Zamian, Bohlo, Kurt, and Tulip away from the giant vine.

  “Father! What are you doing?” Zamian shouted, watching in disbelief as Dante began to sink the vine back into the ground.

  Falling to the ground, Zamian rolled instinctively. The grass beneath cushioned his fall, preventing any injuries. Uncaring about his condition, he hastily moved essence through his body, intent on following the man.

  But then his instincts screamed at him. Without hesitation, Zamian rolled again, narrowly avoiding a palm that swept through the spot where he had just been moments before.

  “Ohohoho, this little friend’s instincts and movements are even better than that lunatic bragged about,” said a bald, laughing man, covered in thick wooden armor and carrying a wooden halberd strapped to his back.

  Recognizing that his instincts weren’t warning him of any immediate danger, and still more concerned with his father, Zamian was about to rush to the hole made by the giant vine when his eyes caught sight of the text floating above the bald man’s head.

  [LEVEL 4 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]

  “A blighting Chosen?” he blurted out, surprised at encountering an unknown Chosen.

  “Oho, impressive perception,” the bald man praised, smiling as he stroked his white beard. His gaze flitted from Zamian to the trio behind him, sharp despite his jovial tone.

  Following the man’s gaze, Zamian turned to look at Bohlo and the others, scowling as he thought, ‘I can’t leave them alone with this guy.’

  “What do you want? Who are you?” Zamian barked, gathering Nature’s essence as he prepared to move at the first sign of danger.

  “Little friend, I was just patrolling. Seeing that lunatic throw you here, I had to check. Sorry to startle you,” the man said, still smiling. He extended a hand for a handshake. “I’m Marlos, and you must be Zamian Greenfield, right?”

  Unwilling to take the offered hand, Zamian nodded cautiously. “Yes. How do you know me?” Warily, he glanced past the man, noticing giant blades of grass reaching their knees and a distant, round wooden structure.

  Glancing up, he saw the Sanctuary’s familiar white leaves and frowned. ‘Do they look bigger? Closer?’ he wondered briefly, puzzled.

  As Zamian returned his eyes to the smiling bald man, he heard Bohlo speak. “Uh… Z, the outsider and the girl don’t look so good.”

  Without letting Marlos leave his field of vision, Zamian stepped back until he was beside Bohlo. A glance at his friend and the duo made him pause.

  Tulip was pale, her body trembling as she stared ahead with wide, frightened eyes. Beyond her, Kurt knelt on the ground, hands over his mouth, shaking uncontrollably.

  “Wh—” Zamian began, but his words were cut off by Tulip’s sudden, terrified cry.

  “The Warrior Chosen!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with fear.

  “Ohohoho,” Marlos laughed, his tone as casual as ever. “It seems these little ones recognize me.”

  “Urgh,” Kurt vomited.

  And while Zamian was momentarily stunned, Bohlo approached and whispered, “Z, why are you naked again?”

  “...”