Chapter 82: First Fortress 34 Part 1

Amid the flames, Gu Xianqing’s face suddenly turned deathly pale.

The one who had been shot was clearly the cabin cocoon with the Cutting Technique innate talent, yet Gu Xianqing let out a muffled grunt as if she had taken a heavy blow herself. Her footing faltered, tripping over a branch, nearly tumbling to the ground. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her lips, making them look even redder against her ashen complexion.

An He’s heartstrings tugged uncontrollably.

She whipped her head around in alarm, but Gu Xianqing had already steadied herself. She wiped the blood from her mouth and shot An He a fierce glare.

The bloodstain smeared at her lips, but in the blink of an eye, Gu Xianqing masked her pain and frailty beneath her skin, like a flame flickering wildly in the wind before standing firm once more, blazing fiercely.

An He felt a shocking surge expand in her chest, swelling until it burst silently into admiration.

In that dazed moment of utter conviction, An He confirmed one thing: Gu Xianqing truly couldn’t harm the God.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—it was that she couldn’t.

Whenever Gu Xianqing struck, the damage rebounded onto herself. Given that she was still alive, this wasn’t mere redirection; it was an incalculable backlash she endured.

Did Gu Xianqing share some unspeakable bond with the God?

This realization jolted An He to full alertness, a smile lighting up her face. At least, she wasn’t truly facing a one-against-seven. Gu Xianqing was still on her side!

Probably…

An He held back from full certainty.

She could never quite gauge her relationship with Gu Xianqing right—her anxious suspicions only grew more intense. When An He laid her heart bare, Gu Xianqing betrayed her; when hatred stirred in An He, Gu Xianqing trusted her unconditionally.

No bond in the world ran deeper than theirs.

Even so, An He couldn’t hide her exuberant grin. She spun around and dashed to Gu Xianqing’s side, reaching out to steady her.

The itch and guilt gnawing at her heart intensified like an unreachable scratch, only easing when they stood shoulder to shoulder.

But Gu Xianqing dodged her support, then kicked viciously at An He’s waist with a wordless, furious expression. Her voice came out as a thin whisper of rage.

An He read her look perfectly: You hurt me, and now you’re pitying me?

Sure, let’s call it that.

An He took the kick, letting the guilt dissolve with the blow. Fine, consider it payback—no skin off her back.

Using the momentum from the kick, An He backpedaled just in time to evade an incoming air slash hurtling toward her.

She glanced over her shoulder. Not far off, another cabin cocoon raised its hand, unleashing an even fiercer air blade straight at her face.

This one had wounded An He multiple times already. Blood sprayed from her arm and back, but she felt nothing, gripping her sword and turning to face the enemy head-on.

Good. You’re next!

With Gu Xianqing’s allegiance confirmed, An He gained newfound confidence. Her movements sharpened; though she wasn’t adept with swords, her knife techniques adapted well, throwing the foe off-balance.

Besides, An He had no intention of clashing head-on. Using Gu Xianqing to borrow another’s knife to kill was the optimal play!

Blood streamed down her arm to the sword tip, the sharp pain countering the nerve-numbing haze of the yellow spores. An He didn’t mind a few more wounds if they kept her sharp.

Even if they carved the flesh from her bones, she’d land that final strike.

As she charged into the air blade, the opposing cabin cocoon unleashed a devastating blow. Winds whipped up in the sealed underground space, edge sands slicing off the hem of An He’s jacket. Shredded fabric and tree-root ash scattered behind her.

This strike alone could have torn An He limb from limb!

Yet her face remained icy calm as she rushed forward.

The instant she met the air blade, An He subtly shifted her angle. Her Eye of Prophecy flickered repeatedly, pinpointing the perfect position.

She activated Shatterblade Time for herself, buying two precious seconds. In that window, she grabbed the cabin cocoon using Cutting Technique on her, hurling it into the air blade’s path before spinning away.

Blood and flesh exploded behind her. The fiercest air blade slammed into the Cutting Technique cabin cocoon, inflicting damage An He could never match.

No sooner had she dodged than a whoosh grazed her neck. Without thinking, she rolled on the ground, crushing dying embers as she pivoted to counter, her longsword whistling out. It sang with a metallic ring, slicing into hide and blinding a black bear in both eyes.

Her actions grew even more fluid, eyes locked ahead.

In the distance, amid tangled roots, more pairs of blood-red beast eyes fixed on her.

An He had no plans to tangle with the nestsouls—leave those to the Raven. She needed to keep borrowing force to strike force, taking down as many cabin cocoons as possible.

More Ravens took flight one after another. An He spared no mental energy, summoning even if it exhausted her.

The nestsouls littered the ground, inflicting countless casualties on her Ravens. An He could no longer tell which death brought the searing pain. She was growing numb to the Ravens’ demise—the pain was their final farewell.

She commanded them like Ide, cherishing each one, yet sent them charging fearlessly like Sekhmet’s soldiers.

An He had never counted her Ravens.

The First Fortress’s precision instruments couldn’t detect a nestsoul’s limit either.

No limits? Then An He unilaterally declared her potential infinite. As long as she lived, her Ravens would never run dry!

Her near-maddened fighting style overloaded her brain. A fraction off, and she’d splatter on the spot. But that razor-edge pressure set her blood surging, driving her to seize a sliver of life from certain death without hesitation.

The God had multiple avatars; losing one cabin cocoon barely fazed 707.

But An He was different. No avatars, just one battered life. Survive or die—her will to live erupted unprecedentedly.

Gu Xianqing had warned her not to die.

She wouldn’t.

An He hadn’t truly killed any cabin cocoon with her own hands, but with Gu Xianqing’s aid, three had fallen in five short minutes—slain by their own allies.

Gu Xianqing lived up to being an exceptional leader, one who surveyed the battlefield. She let An He draw all the fire, lurking safely in the zone An He carved out, seeming like a coward afraid of death. Yet she fully accounted for An He’s talents, using subtle cues to point out targets.

She knew An He too well, and An He knew her just as deeply. A gesture, a single word—they understood instantly.

This rapport stemmed from prolonged standoffs and tests. Only “enemies” who’d clashed so intimately grasped each other’s weaknesses and strengths.

Only “teammates” who’d fought side-by-side coordinated so seamlessly, willingly.

An He exulted, growing fiercer with each clash. By the end, she couldn’t help but grin triumphantly, high-spirited. The dying embers cast their last glow on her blood-smeared face, crimson and radiant.

Her blood-soaked clothes and sword made her look like a war goddess, scarred atop a pile of withered bones yet undefeated with blade raised.

707 still hadn’t made a move.

Corpses littered the ground—beast limbs and human shells draped over withered branches like hell itself.

As An He targeted another cabin cocoon with a “Binding” innate talent, every creature suddenly shifted aims in an instant. Two lead leopards vaulted over An He’s head, jaws wide—not at her, but at Gu Xianqing.

Gu Xianqing’s body froze, unable to move, while the roots at her feet turned to quickmud.

Gu Xianqing was under attack!

The God had finally sensed her “betrayal”—or reached its limit of tolerance. All firepower converged on her.

A “Binding” talent, plus a new “Reality Reconstruction”—the world’s rules warped utterly. Stone became mud, metal turned to water, logic ignored.

An He sensed the shift, sheathing her sword and whirling. Five meters away, the assaulted Gu Xianqing glanced down at her sinking legs, then met An He’s eyes.

An He’s face drained white—the change was too sudden. Gu Xianqing lacked self-preservation talents.

“Little lamb!” Gu Xianqing had never shouted her name so loudly, yet her pupils held no panic.

The call struck An He’s heart like a hammer, trembling. Her body reacted before her mind. Like an arrow loosed, she kicked off, body leaning forward in a ferocious, decisive charge—every muscle unleashing maximum power.

Gu Xianqing can’t die!

If she does, I won’t last long either.

Shatterblade Time activated domain-wide! An He plunged through the muck toward her, heedless of the sinking pull. With a mighty leap, she enveloped Gu Xianqing tightly in her arms. They rolled together to the ground.

An He even recalled Gu Xianqing’s dislike for filth, adjusting to cradle the back of her head.

As reason returned, An He realized she’d been too impulsive, too revealing of her care.

Gu Xianqing’s warm breath brushed her shoulder and neck. An He released her at once, avoiding undue intimacy.

Only then did she hear the cracking of joints filling her ears—a faint snap at first, then endless, like a body crumpled like paper, bones wailing in fragility.

Not her doing.

The ground’s mire stopped spreading. The “Reality Reconstruction” talent had just emerged before vanishing entirely.

An He rose from the sludge and whipped around. In the distance, a cabin cocoon bled from every orifice, dropping dead!

An He recognized this power—from her illusion, where she’d made “Vivian” unleash it at full strength. But this destruction outstripped even that.

It was Vivian!

Another crisp crack—save for 707, the last cabin cocoon perished instantly.

An He vaulted from the mire, scanning around. The fire-controller dead, wood-controller gravely wounded, surrounding roots mostly charred. Fading flames hid Vivian’s form; the girl lurked in shadows, claiming two lives in a flash.

Vivian couldn’t have come alone. An He glanced back at Gu Xianqing, expression conflicted.

She resented dragging an innocent girl into this peril, yet was grateful for it. Without her, saving Gu Xianqing meant nothing—”Reality Reconstruction” would’ve trapped them hopelessly.

But a faint disappointment followed: Gu Xianqing exploited cabin cocoons ruthlessly. Beyond herself, her grooming of Vivian mirrored how she’d once guided An He.

That “little lamb”—was it for me… or her?

Not the time to dwell. An He gritted her teeth, eyes on 707.

Her worst fear came true. 707’s demeanor shifted, remaining spores drifting in the air. After a sweeping glance, 707 shot toward the right wall, feet barely touching ground—like flight.

Vivian’s position exposed!

707’s speed defied belief.