Chapter 52: Rune Hound: Advanced Profession

Ancheng was neither large nor small.

By evening, Fang Shi had finished distributing flyers and found the Trial Tower.

It was a black tower standing firm upon the earth.

Only ten meters tall and two meters wide, yet it had nine stories, appearing utterly bizarre.

Even a short halfling stood nearly as tall as one story.

Added to this, the gate stood wide open, its interior deep and dark, invisible to the eye.

The moment an ordinary person saw it, fear arose, and none dared enter.

Fang Shi didn’t care at all—he’d been inside countless times before his rebirth.

He knew every secret within it.

“Huh? This thing’s still here. Now I can confirm—it really wasn’t left by some later-day powerhouse.”

Fang Shi approached the gate, stroking a palm print upon it, and sighed.

The palm print was three centimeters from the door’s edge; the tower’s surface was pitch black, hard to spot unless you looked closely.

The imprint was only a few centimeters deep, slender and elongated, small—like a woman’s palm.

As if someone had pressed their palm into wet cement.

But in truth, it was worlds apart.

The tower’s material was unknown, yet incredibly hard.

Even a legendary warrior’s attack could not leave a single scratch upon it.

From this, one could glimpse the power of the one who left the palm print.

Very likely, a deity.

Only such a being beyond mortal realms.

Could leave a palm print upon the Trial Tower, a construct of creation.

Thus, some once tried studying it for residual principles of law.

Sadly, they ultimately found nothing.

“I’ll just enter the tower like a good boy. Why overthink it? Without reaching legendary status, you can’t even touch the threshold of the principles of law.”

…

A mustard seed contains the Himalayas.

After stepping through the two-meter-high gate, Fang Shi entered a vast expanse.

The interior of the Trial Tower was far from narrow.

On either side stretched walls extending to the horizon.

In the center lay a hundred-meter-wide avenue.

This was the First Layer: the Endless Labyrinth.

A surprisingly thoughtful labyrinth that imposed no flight restrictions.

Even if you flew ten thousand meters upward, you’d never see the walls’ end.

It stood like a pillar propping up heaven and earth.

Most importantly, the Endless Labyrinth lived up to its name—it truly was endless.

Whether it was a single maze or not was unclear, for even those who walked along one wall.

Could never reach its end.

But it didn’t matter—the trial’s passage didn’t require you to traverse the entire maze.

Simply staying inside for one day counted as passing.

You’d be teleported out automatically when time ran out.

Your score was based on how far you’d traveled.

As for how “far” was defined in the labyrinth.

It depended on the level of monsters surrounding your location.

The higher the monster level, the farther you’d traveled.

And you didn’t have to fight the monsters.

Whether you could pass through their territory depended on your own skill.

If you could kill them outright, that was best.

If not, stealth, invisibility, or containment—any method would do.

As long as you passed, the Trial Tower counted it as your score.

Multiple-person teams weren’t restricted either.

Though teaming up carried a penalty to your passage score, sometimes it let you go farther.

The rewards for going farther could easily offset the penalty.

If not for Fang Shi’s own cultivation hitting a bottleneck.

And no one else being able to reach Level 5 in the short term.

Fang Shi would’ve teamed up to clear the trial.

Like some mage or priest to buff him, provide support.

His strength could at least double.

“No team is fine—I’m already as strong as a typical Level 1.”

“Far stronger than any other Level 5 cultivator.”

“I remember the final passage score also factors in personal level.”

“The lower your level, the deeper you go, the higher your passage score.”

“My strength far exceeds my level—that’s a huge bonus.”

Thud!

Fang Shi stomped his foot and leaped forward.

Soon he reached the first crossroad.

At the center stood a humanoid creature gripping a spear, pacing.

Its entire body was covered in thick armor plates.

Yet at the joints, bundles of fibrous tendons were exposed, like skinless muscles.

Or perhaps the armor plates were this humanoid’s skin.

As it walked, muscle fibers contracted in rhythmic pulses.

A secret rune mark was carved upon its head.

Its eyes, human-like in agility, glowed with intelligence.

It was a construct—living machinery.

Said to have been born from an arcane experiment, a wizard’s war slave.

Why it existed in the Trial Tower, Fang Shi didn’t know.

The creatures inside the Trial Tower were bizarre beyond count; later levels held dragons, titans.

Even angels, demons, and devils existed.

Shhh!

Fang Shi had no patience to communicate with the construct—he slashed at it directly.

The construct at the first crossroad was too weak—only in its newborn state.

Its biological level was under 1, and Fang Shi severed its head in one strike.

It died mid-charge.

Its brain hadn’t even registered the attack.

Though constructs were considered sentient, due to the Trial Tower’s influence.

Upon seeing living beings, they only roared and hacked wildly—utterly incommunicative.

Before his rebirth, some mages had even cast mind-affecting spells to uncover the Trial Tower’s secrets.

They gained nothing.

Spells could manipulate the creatures’ minds fine, but anything tied to the Trial Tower itself was blank.

As if erased.

So Fang Shi wouldn’t waste time on such futile efforts.

He only wanted to pass efficiently—nothing else mattered.

As for how to proceed next.

It was a labyrinth—endless, so just walk wherever.

Wherever you end up, that’s fine.

And the labyrinth was alive—each entry changed its layout.

Memorizing maps was pointless.

Plus, monster levels at each crossroad were completely random.

It wasn’t always harder as you progressed—sometimes they grew weaker.

The unlucky might fight all day.

Never encounter a monster matching their level, before being teleported out of the Endless Labyrinth.

The monster at the second intersection is a Rune Hound.

Its appearance resembled a hairless large dog, its pale, sticky skin covered in strange, abstract tattoos.

Most importantly, this thing had no head.

Only a long neck extended from the center of its back.

At the end of the neck was an unusually large stomach, crammed full of sharp teeth.

Inside the stomach swirled filth and acid, ready to spew forth at any moment.

This twisted, malformed creature filled Fang Shi with revulsion the moment he saw it.

He didn’t know if it was naturally born or the work of some mage.

If it was the work of a mage, then that mage was clearly insane.

To create such a grotesque lifeform.

Moreover, the Rune Hound was no weakling—it had a Level 3 creature rank, 37 HP, 20 Supernatural Strength, 14 Agility, 17 Constitution, and 4 Natural Armor.

It also possessed the feats Combat Reflexes I, Lightning Reflexes I, and Tracking I.

With these stats, the Rune Hound stood out even among Level 3 creatures.

When Fang Shi was Level 3, he wasn’t sure he could defeat it.

Equivalent to 22 points of Strength—it would crush you on contact.

And it wasn’t some clumsy, heavy-bodied earth elemental with brute force alone.

The Rune Hound’s running speed exceeded 40 meters per second.

Once you encountered it, escape was nearly impossible.

Don’t assume the Rune Hound can’t track you just because it has no eyes.

With Spiritual Smell and Intuitive Blind Sight, it had 360-degree coverage.

In the Rune Hound’s perception, ambushes and stealth were jokes.

“These aberrant creatures all have absurd stats—and they’re all disgusting to look at.”

“Fortunately, external spatial portals rarely spawn monsters this terrifying.”

“Otherwise, humanity would be in trouble.”

After a moment’s thought, Fang Shi charged toward the Rune Hound.

If he were still Level 3, he’d turn and run at the sight of such a creature.

Even if he barely managed to win, he’d be left crippled.

Now he was Level 5, with a pile of powerful feats—why fear it?

The Rune Hound had sensed Fang Shi’s arrival long ago; had it not been for the Trial Tower’s restrictions,

Its vicious nature would have had it strike the instant he appeared.

Seeing Fang Shi attack first, the Rune Hound didn’t hesitate—it lunged forward on all fours.

In its lexicon, the word “fear” didn’t exist.

It had killed weaker Level 1 creatures before.

What was one Level 5 human?

Yes, the Rune Hound looked down on humans—specifically, physical-class humans.

In its life, such humans meant only fragility and trash.

It had lost count of how many such humans it had killed.

Once it closed the distance, its prey had no chance of survival.

When it was three meters away, the Rune Hound’s serpentine neck suddenly snapped forward.

It instantly closed the gap, its tooth-filled stomach gaping wide as it bit toward Fang Shi.

This wasn’t the rotting zombie bites Fang Shi had faced when he first changed his class.

This was a bite with 22 points of Strength, carrying immense kinetic force.

Its sharp teeth were like daggers, coated in foul, stinking slime.

Fang Shi saw all of this.

But that also meant he reacted in time.

With his stacked feats, his reaction speed equaled 24 Agility, and his Perception was 23—not for show.

Fang Shi easily dodged the Rune Hound’s attack.

He spun and slashed at its neck.

“Slashing Attack activated.”

“Target received fatal damage.”

“You dealt 33 damage to the target.”

The Rune Hound’s neck snapped cleanly in half.

Yet even then, it did not die.

The stomach lying on the ground continued to gape, spewing a foul, stinking glob of slime toward Fang Shi.

Fang Shi dodged effortlessly—had the intact Rune Hound failed to harm him, how much less could this dying thing?

“Piercing Attack activated.”

“Target received fatal damage.”

“You dealt 33 damage to the target.”

“Target dead.”

“Soul energy extracted. You gained 15 experience points and 1.5 Survival Points.”

“System detected player has reached Level 5.”

“You have obtained partial information on your advanced class: Windblade Saint.”

Watching the data stream flash across his stat panel,

Fang Shi sneered—such a powerful monster yielded so little experience? He’d get more killing a Firewing Bird.

Remember, the Rune Hound’s reaction speed, boosted by feats, equaled 18 Agility.

High attack, high agility, decent constitution—it was practically unbeatable for ordinary Level 3 physical-class players.

Magic users could counter it, but only if they secured enough casting time.

Otherwise, the first strike alone would mean instant death.

Don’t be fooled by how quick and easy Fang Shi’s victory seemed.

In reality, life-or-death combat never involves flashy, drawn-out fights.

Victory is decided by a single strike to a vital point.

“Windblade Saint—what class is that? Sounds related to wind elements.”

When a player reaches the level required for advancement, they gain fragments of information about their advanced class after each battle victory.

The exact nature of the information largely depends on the battle participants.

According to legendary mages’ research, this may be similar to soul energy extraction.

A brutally aggressive form of plundering.

And if the information prompt appears three times, the player has met the requirements for advancement.

At Level 6, they may choose to upgrade into one of these advanced classes.

Of course, the system won’t generously reveal the features or advantages of these classes.

Players must guess themselves—or wait until enough others have transmigrated and data is compiled.

Unfortunately, Fang Shi never imagined he’d be reborn.

Beyond common classes, his knowledge of rare ones was extremely limited.

Fang Shi’s original plan was to train in the Trial Tower until he mastered Longsword Weapon Focus I, Longsword Weapon Specialization I, and Longsword Critical Strike I.

Then advance into the class Sword Saint—without any prefix.

Such a pure Sword Saint, though lacking elemental powers, still wielded pure sword qi.

In fact, his mastery of sword weapons would surpass even masters who specialized exclusively in longswords.

But that was only in theory—people are alive, the system is dead.

No class is inherently stronger or weaker; some classes might even be better off not advancing.

Relying solely on class-upgrade abilities does indeed yield the above evaluation.

But feats can be learned, can be comprehended.

Aside from a few special feats, most can be acquired with time—or sufficient insight.

I’m a Windblade Saint—why can’t I learn all the feats of the Sword Saint class?

Then I’ll have supernatural power alongside extraordinary sword weapon mastery.

My strength will rise exponentially, far beyond what a mere Sword Saint could achieve.

Fang Shi had obtained the notes of a Foundation Establishment disciple from the Heaven’s Sword Sect.

They recorded many sword-training insights.

He could easily comprehend sword-related feats from them.

Though he didn’t know the limits, this gave him far more options.

“Forget it—I’ll take it one step at a time.”

“My most basic goal: comprehend Longsword Weapon Focus I, Longsword Weapon Specialization I, and Longsword Critical Strike I.”

Collect more of the other supernatural sword-based classes.

Then see if you can obtain a property-infused longsword and switch to the corresponding Sword Saint.

The most important task right now is to get through the labyrinth; I hope no insane monsters show up soon.

Only those with limited knowledge believe rank is everything.

The multiverse is so vast—what kind of monsters don’t exist?

The weak defeating the strong, the small overcoming the great, given a large enough base.

Hundreds, even thousands appearing is perfectly normal.

Who knows? Somewhere in a corner, there might even be time dragon-line dog-headed sorcerers.

Next is the third intersection.

But when Fang Shi approached the intersection, he was utterly stunned.

What the hell is this thing?

PS: Thank you to Dukou Dukou Dukou for the monthly ticket.