Chapter 86: Yi Gao Cemetery, Owl Tree

(PS: Written poorly; might revise if the opportunity arises, but this will do for now.)

Swish!

Water flowed along the wooden board toward the rear; Fang Shi stood atop it, gripping a wooden oar, occasionally sliding it backward.

For an ordinary person, making a wooden board and oar in the primal forest without proper tools would be extremely difficult.

But for Fang Shi, it was utterly simple.

His sword was sharper than a chainsaw.

Coupled with golden spiritual power, it unleashed over a ton of force.

He effortlessly felled thick trees.

He could not walk on a single reed across a river.

But crossing a river on a wooden board was effortless.

This speed far exceeded swimming through water, and was far safer.

During the crossing, he saw no trace of any river-dwelling dragon beast.

They had been terrified out of their wits and fled to some other river region long ago.

Soon, Fang Shi reached the opposite shore of the reservoir.

In the distance, mountain ranges rose in layered peaks; Yi Gao Cemetery lay hidden among them.

This was Fang Shi’s destination.

A century ago, Yi Gao Cemetery had been the ancestral graveyard of the local Yang clan.

But during that century, the Yang family fled overseas, and the graveyard naturally fell into ruin.

Gradually, local residents began burying their dead there, and others followed suit.

Most believed the Yang family had prospered

because their ancestral tomb had exceptional feng shui; burying their own ancestors there would grant them blessings.

This was later proven baseless, as war broke out and the local population was slaughtered by invaders.

By the 1980s, the population had grown dramatically.

Demand for burial space rose, so the authorities took control, renovated the site, and named it Yi Gao Cemetery.

From then on, Yi Gao Cemetery became an official public graveyard.

Logically, a graveyard was just a graveyard—nothing unusual.

Even after the Collapse, when spiritual energy began appearing across Blue Star,

most burial grounds did experience corpse reanimation.

But time was too short and spiritual energy too scarce to produce powerful zombies.

Most could barely produce an iron corpse.

And humans would easily wipe them out.

Yet during the late stage of the Fourth Shock,

Yi Gao Cemetery produced a golden corpse—its emergence brought rolling black clouds that blotted out the sky, and malevolent energy surged straight into the heavens.

That was a legendary-level monster.

And the golden corpse was bloodthirsty, brutal, and hateful toward the living; upon emerging, it slaughtered indiscriminately.

With every strike, the earth shook and mountains trembled; the surrounding hills were plowed clean.

This naturally alarmed the legendary experts of Ancheng.

They did not hesitate, immediately gathering forces to besiege and exterminate it.

The outcome was obvious: a lone golden corpse stood no chance against so many legendary experts.

It wasn’t a Rakshasa or some such monster.

Its day of emergence was its day of death.

After eliminating the golden corpse, the legendary experts grew curious.

Yi Gao Cemetery had such a shallow history—how could it possibly have nurtured a golden corpse?

Their investigation revealed something shocking.

The legendary experts discovered that the Yang family’s ancestral tomb had been built atop an ancient tomb complex.

The complex was deep—nearly a hundred meters below ground—and had a passage connecting directly to the Yang family’s tomb.

Everyone suddenly understood: no wonder the Yang family had risen to prominence.

They had stolen treasures from the ancient tomb to earn their first fortune.

The ancient tomb contained vast quantities of gold and jewels; even without antique value, it was immense wealth.

But the legendary experts had no interest in these things.

After the Collapse, unless it was magical material, value was negligible.

Even gold might need soaking in the blood of powerful creatures,

infused with spiritual power to become blood-patterned gold.

Or refined with aether to transform into crimson gold.

Only such gold was truly valuable.

The legendary experts were far more interested in why this golden corpse had been born.

Unfortunately, they found nothing.

No Nine Yin Earth Vein, no legendary artifact.

The entire ancient tomb was ordinary—only deeper and larger than usual.

No trace of supernatural power remained.

Even a Grand Master had used divination magic and gained no useful information.

The legendary experts left, empty-handed.

Their time was precious; they needed to cultivate urgently for the Fifth Shock.

Confirmed no gain—return immediately.

In truth, since Blue Star’s transformation, such strange places had become countless.

Cases yielding rewards were rare.

Ancheng’s authorities didn’t even want to waste manpower on sealing it off.

The government abandoned it, but the people would not.

Rumors spread everywhere: someone went to such-and-such place, gained a miraculous fortune, skyrocketed in rank, and became legendary.

These stories ignited humanity’s thirst for exploration.

Some bold souls would rush into any unknown, mysterious place,

hoping Fortune’s Lady might favor them one day.

Fang Shi was one such person—and his luck was exceptional.

Others came to the cemetery and found nothing; he alone gained immense benefit.

That benefit extended even after his rebirth; the current Fang Shi still reaps its rewards.

…

A dilapidated imitation-ancient building glowed golden in the setting sun.

Fang Shi stepped inside and, unsurprisingly, saw the corpses of walking dead.

The cemetery had staff living there, so naturally, it was affected by the Collapse.

A few walking dead corpses were not unusual.

But Fang Shi suspected that even if survivors had existed at first, none remained now.

The reason was simple: the moment he entered the building, he sensed a terrifying, chilling aura.

It carried profound death energy.

“Is there a second-rank creature inside?”

Fang Shi mused; his spiritual sense told him the creatures within the cemetery were no ordinary beings.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

A wind rose, sweeping through the halls, emitting a mournful wail.

Like a melancholy flutist, or a sorrowful singer.

The wind’s cry was heart-wrenching, steeped in despair.

The more Fang Shi listened, the more uneasy he felt.

He swung his sword—sharp sword qi erupted, shooting toward the ceiling.

Crack!

The roof beam split cleanly in two.

The sword qi’s momentum continued, piercing through the roof; streams of golden light poured in.

The dim interior brightened slightly.

Yet even after damaging the structure, the throughwind did not weaken.

Instead, it grew louder, swirling around his ears.

Fang Shi grew increasingly agitated; the sonic resonance continuously stimulated him.

Unconsciously, he recalled the scene before his rebirth—being devoured alive by the Crawling Night Shadow.

A wave of despair began to take root in his heart.

Fang Shi had a feeling that his own future fate would be no better.

No!

A flash of divine light flashed in Fang Shi’s eyes, and invisible magic power rippled through his body.

“Ha!”

Thunder rang from his mouth, cutting through the howling wind.

“You hear the voice of despair.”

“You are affected by the voice of despair.”

“Willpower resists…”

“Your willpower resists the voice of despair.”

“The voice of despair has no effect on you.”

Fang Shi realized he had unknowingly fallen into the enemy’s trap.

Clearly, it had begun when he stepped into the graveyard.

The second-rank creatures living within had sensed his arrival.

They immediately activated their magic to influence him.

Fang Shi sneered. How bold of them.

He hadn’t even sought them out, yet they dared strike first.

Truly ignorant of death.

Though his rank was only first-rank, his strength could no longer be judged by rank alone.

Fang Shi sped through the buildings and soon reached the graveyard.

In the center of the dense graves stood an unsettling giant tree.

Its entire body was pitch black, nearly leafless, radiating a gloomy, despairing, nightmare-like aura.

It was the second-rank creature living in the graveyard—the source of the voice of despair.

Clang!

His longsword drew, and Fang Shi slashed directly at the black tree in the graveyard.

He had recognized its origin.

It was called the Owlwood, a monster that fed on fear.

The Owlwood’s shriek directly affected the mind, awakening the most terrifying and despairing emotions within a creature.

Those who failed their willpower save would willingly seek out the Owlwood.

They would be killed by it, becoming nourishment to sustain it.

Even if the victim was physically restrained and unable to move toward it.

Each subsequent night, they would lose 1d10 hit points until death.

This effect could not be removed by dispel magic or anti-evil spells.

Only limited wish or stronger spells could lift it.

But limited wish was a seventh-circle spell, and each use consumed experience points.

It was equivalent to a permanent loss of some levels.

Thus, no mage would pay such a price for a stranger.

Of course, there was a simpler method: kill the Owlwood casting the spell.

Just as Fang Shi was about to do now.

Fortunately, his willpower was extremely strong, and he possessed the feats Iron Will II and Force Resistance.

Otherwise, even if he were powerful, without allies he would have faced death.

Ah!

As Fang Shi drew closer, the Owlwood’s shriek grew sharper.

Fear! Phantom Assassin!

Two more spells requiring a willpower save were cast.

But Fang Shi had already resisted the voice of despair.

Why fear these weaker illusions?

Boom!

Countless branches whipped through the air, exploding with thunderous cracks.

Each tip broke the sound barrier by more than three times.

The Owlwood finally abandoned using magic to kill Fang Shi.

It turned instead to the most primal, most violent means.

Fang Shi was utterly unfazed; his superhuman reflexes kicked in.

He moved effortlessly between the branches.

Any single branch striking him would mean instant death.

Yet Fang Shi remained calm.

For no matter how fierce the Owlwood’s attacks, if they couldn’t land, they were meaningless.

Twenty meters!

The Owlwood’s aura grew colder; magical light flared again.

Entangle!

Countless vines erupted from the ground, reaching for Fang Shi.

These ground-covering vines completely blocked his path forward.

Coupled with the swirling branches around him, the Owlwood truly believed Fang Shi could not dodge endlessly.

Moreover, as Fang Shi drew nearer, his evasion space shrank.

It favored the Owlwood’s offense.

Ten meters!

But why should Fang Shi dodge?

White Crane Sword Art!

Fang Shi transformed into a whirlwind and surged straight beside the Owlwood.

Fierce attacks erupted; sword cuts appeared across the Owlwood’s massive body.

Each wound spurted crimson branches.

Thick and slick, like biological blood.

Ang! Ang! Ang!

The shriek rose higher; a violent storm burst from the Owlwood.

Boom!

In an instant, it blew Fang Shi away.

But the move was useless—he instantly lunged back.

Countless sword cuts reappeared.

“Slashing attack initiated.”

“You dealt 6 damage to the target.”

…

“Slashing attack initiated.”

“You dealt 4 damage to the target.”

…

“Slashing attack initiated.”

“You dealt 7 damage to the target.”

“Target dead.”

“Soul energy extracted from target: 2028 experience points, 202.8 survival points gained.”

“As the first player to kill an 11th-level creature,”

“You received a Silver Chest.”

The black branches hung lifelessly to the ground; the Owlwood was dead.

But this was not the end—a silent black light shot from the Owlwood’s corpse toward Fang Shi.

“You are afflicted by a death curse.”

“Willpower resists…”

“Your willpower resists the death curse.”

One who kills the Owlwood must bear its death curse.

The curse’s power matched that of the voice of despair.

Those who fail their save suffer 1d10 damage each night in sleep, as if affected by Nightmare.

Simultaneously, the cursed individual feels extreme fatigue for the next 24 hours and cannot prepare spells during this time.

The curse persists until removed or the victim dies.

Even if removed, the victim remains fatigued for the next 24 hours.

Only limited wish magic or stronger spells can remove this owlwood’s death curse.

If a victim dies because of it, a new owlwood will grow on the victim’s corpse after one month.

The sapling appears like an ordinary plant during its growth, only revealing its true owlwood form once mature.

This is the horror of owlwood, but Fang Shi is even more formidable.

The longer Fang Shi used Bai He Sword Art, the more he felt its power.

Merged with the wind, he is immune to harm except from extreme physical environments or supernatural forces.

Even if owlwood’s strikes carry a hundred tons of force.

But if you can’t hit him, it’s the same as not hitting at all.

This is the strength of magic, and the limitation of physical classes.

No matter how strong your power, a punch cannot shatter an atomic nucleus to trigger a nuclear explosion.

You simply cannot harm Fang Shi when he is merged with the wind.

Owlwood is not weak—its chorus of despair ensures it is ineffective in group battles.

If you cannot resist the chorus of despair, it is merely collective suicide.

Not to mention its terrifying physical attacks and magical power.

Even ordinary level-two creatures that come here only die in vain.

Before his rebirth, Fang Shi could not survive a single strike from it.

But in this life, he is no longer the same as before—only owlwood fears him.

Fang Shi hopes more such creatures appear, to give him more experience.

Next came the treasure-hunting time.

He could hardly wait to see whether the treasure was still there.