Chapter 10: A Rare Chance to Catch One

A rare chance to catch one’s breath

Before Xia Wan “gave birth,” Cheng Shi promptly cast a healing spell on her.

Due to Xia Wan carrying multiple fetuses, the healing spell was extremely effective, fully restoring her condition.

But this also meant the newborns she would deliver would be exceptionally healthy.

The group sprinted wildly outward, but had not run far before the lifeforms gestating within Xia Wan impatiently came into the world.

The lifeforms catalyzed by the [Seed of Creation] would not wait for midwives; halfway through their escape, the bulges on Xia Wan’s body burst open, spewing forth several grotesque, half-flesh, half-plant vines.

The good news was, these vines had weak combat power—Song Yawen handled them all by himself.

The bad news was, while Xia Wan was fine, Nangong was nearly dead.

She lay half-lidded, her body burning with fever, clearly teetering on the brink of life and death; the wounds on her ribs and abdomen continued to rot, still reeking of [Decay], and she was clearly breathing out far more than breathing in.

“If this continues, Nangong will die.”

After having just shared life-and-death trials together, and with over half a day of the trial still remaining, no one in the team wished to lose a member here.

They had survived the attack of the Dread Demon horde—it would be a waste to die here.

Chen Chong stopped running, dropped Cao San Sui from his back, and said to Cheng Shi:

“Nangong’s body can’t withstand another [Birth] healing. If you can’t heal her, heal the mage—have the mage use a time spell to keep her alive.”

Cao San Sui wanted to, but he was a mage, not a priest or a singer—he didn’t have many supportive spells.

Cheng Shi looked at the sorrowful faces around him, sighed, and pulled a small red vial from his personal safe.

“What’s this?” Song Yawen rushed over immediately; he seemed to smell the scent of [Death] from the vial.

“A-grade potion: ‘Scorn of the Dead,’ distilled from the bodies of devout [Death] worshippers.

Their avatar believes some souls are unworthy of death, so they extract this scorn, brew it into potion, and use it to punish oath-breakers who committed grave sins.

To prevent them from ever approaching [Death] again, from ever hearing His teachings.”

As Cheng Shi explained, he poured the potion over Nangong.

“As long as it mixes with your blood, even critical wounds won’t kill you—though it has no healing effect, it merely prolongs life.”

“Huh? There’s such a thing?”

Song Yawen moved fast to catch a drop for study, but Cheng Shi moved faster—slapping his hand away with a laugh:

“Lose even one drop and it loses effect. You want her to die?”

Song Yawen’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I... I’ve never seen one before. Nangong, sorry—I didn’t mean to.”

Pale and weak, Nangong had no strength to respond; she merely watched the liquid rapidly merge into her blood—and then...

She felt nothing.

“Is this... even working?”

Cheng Shi glanced at her.

“It works. And it’s expensive. When you recover, pay me back.”

Nangong gritted her teeth and nodded firmly: “Fine!”

Xia Wan had just given birth and was bleeding from multiple places, but as a [Birth] worshipper, she had stronger resistance to “procreation,” so Cheng Shi didn’t use the potion—he simply cast another healing spell as usual.

Lucky for her—she didn’t get pregnant again.

Seeing Cheng Shi effortlessly save two lives again, Chen Chong asked solemnly:

“Cheng Shi, how many points do you have?”

“I...”

“Not 1501.”

“...” Cheng Shi glanced around and saw doubt in everyone’s eyes; seeing they didn’t believe him, he still grinned and said:

“Really, 1501.”

Chen Chong didn’t believe a word. He said gravely:

“You think I’m stupid? The healing chain you just used requires at least an S-rank talent—and with those two bottles of ‘Scorn of the Dead,’ you...

Can’t possibly have less than 2000 points.”

The Path to Divinity begins at 1000 points; if your score is below 1000 at settlement, you die instantly. Above 1200, you can roll for B-rank talents or items. Above 1600, you can roll for A-rank. Only above 2000 can you roll for S-rank talents.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—are you guys gonna keep guessing points here, or are you coming with me?”

Cheng Shi picked up Nangong and marched forward.

The group exchanged glances, sighed in resignation, and hurried after him.

What could you do when a boss refused to tell the truth? Of course—you followed him blindly!

Song Yawen, naturally unable to keep quiet, never stopped asking questions.

“Big Brother Cheng, what’s your talent? Tell me.”

“Big Brother Cheng, how many points do you really have?”

“Big Brother Cheng, do you have any more of that red potion? I’ll trade you something else for some...”

“Big Brother Cheng...”

Cheng Shi finally couldn’t take it. He shot back:

“...Aren’t assassins supposed to be quiet?”

Song Yawen grinned. “That’s called contrast. It’s trendy now.”

“...”

Fortunately, for the next hour, no other bone army units pursued them.

After walking half a day across the open plain with nowhere to hide, Cheng Shi’s group finally spotted a dense forest.

Song Yawen, who had chattered nonstop, volunteered to scout ahead—he discovered it was an abandoned home of wood elves, containing nothing but a few ruined treehouses and no living creatures.

Cheng Shi and Chen Chong breathed a sigh of relief and rushed the injured into the woods.

Cao San Sui was the first to stabilize—he had overextended his mental energy and now lay weak, unable to control any muscle precisely, speaking only in slurred words about what he knew of the wood elves.

“Wood elves are worshippers of [Prosperity], an eternally neutral race. They revere nature and never intermingle with other races. If they chose this place as a home, it must be relatively safe.”

Hearing this, Song Yawen asked curiously:

“If it’s safe, why did they abandon it?”

“I said relatively safe. Before the war, it was safe—but after the Bone Army launched its assault on Star Fall Continent, no place on Star Fall Continent remains safe.”

At this moment, Chen Chong stood guard outside the treehouse, frowning slightly as he turned back:

“I’ve heard others say the Bone Army launched a war against Star Fall Continent—but what was the reason?”

Cao San Sui shook his head weakly:

“Mages speculate it’s a war of faith, but faith-channelers think subterranean creatures are fighting over something. [Time] observes only the present—we have little information. Perhaps [Memory] worshippers, through retrospection, know more.”

Cheng Shi had been listening intently, but when he heard the name [Memory], his smile froze for an instant.

“I checked the time—the trial has passed six hours. We have eighteen left, but I still need ten hours to recover...”

Cao San Sui’s meaning was clear: though they had survived, the next ten hours—without a mage’s combat power—would be extremely dire.

No one knew what else they might face, and none believed they’d escaped the hellish Dread Demon ambush only to find the trial suddenly safe.

A normal trial might allow that—but a special trial? Impossible.

Cheng Shi recalled the trial’s name and frowned slightly.

“Song of Blood and Fire... We’ve seen blood. Where’s the fire?”

Damn. Their group was right here in the forest—if fire came sweeping through...

A firestorm engulfing eight hundred li of camps?

Surely it couldn’t be that coincidental?

Forget it. No use overthinking. When the enemy comes, meet them with troops; when water rises, block it with earth.

Cheng Shi scratched his head, pulled a cola from his safe, and guzzled it down.

“???”

Song Yawen stared, dumbfounded.

“Big Brother Cheng, your personal space is worth its weight in gold—why store this?”

Cheng Shi pointed at Chen Chong and laughed: “Chen Chong stores alcohol. Why can’t I store a few colas? If a man loses cola, what’s left to be happy about?”

Chen Chong didn’t turn around—but his vigorous nodding showed he wholeheartedly agreed.

Song Yawen’s own safe held drinking water, but that was for life-or-death dehydration—nothing compared to the pleasure of cola. Watching Cheng Shi drink with such relish, he unconsciously swallowed.

“Big Brother Cheng... any more cola?”

Cheng Shi looked at him, said nothing, and pulled out five more bottles.

“??? Big Brother Cheng, is your personal space just full of cola?”

Cheng Shi raised an eyebrow, said nothing.

Song Yawen was delighted—after all, it wasn’t wasting his own space. He quickly grabbed one bottle and distributed the rest to the others.

The proof was clear: drinking cola after battle was incredibly satisfying.

Everyone enjoyed it.

Even Nangong, who couldn’t move, sipped a few mouthfuls with Cheng Shi’s help.

“The forest is still too conspicuous. We rest two to three more hours, then move farther away.”

Chen Chong finished his drink, picked up his sword, and stepped outside.

Keeping watch was his duty—he was a lawful follower of [Order].

Xia Wan and Song Yawen sat quietly inside, tending to the injured and closing their eyes to rest.

But as soon as Song Yawen closed his eyes, a wave of drowsiness swept over him.

This drowsiness came so gently and comfortably that he had no desire to resist it at all.

Clang.

Song Yawen, who had been sitting on the floor, toppled sideways; the several wounded men in the room also slowly closed their eyes and fell into sleep.

Just as everyone slept soundly, Cheng Shi suddenly opened his eyes, a sly glint flashing in his gaze.

"Tsk, drinking anything put in front of him—still hasn't gotten enough beatings."

As he chuckled, his gaze drifted toward Nangong.