Chapter 81: First Fortress 33 Part 2

Now that the God had suitable Parasite hosts, An He had been deemed useless. An He frowned: “I know my own value. I don’t believe you’ll really do it.”

“I will.” 707 pointed to the Cabin Cocoon corpse nearby.

“Did you kill that?” An He had assumed it was a failed nurture.

707 was already upon her.

“Wait—”

An He’s protest had no effect. 707 was done negotiating. Even if An He feigned obedience, 707 wouldn’t step into the same river twice.

Swiftly, 707 removed An He’s protective hood and tossed the round cover aside. Calmly, she said: “Rest in peace.”

In an instant, air thick with bloody stench, floral oddity, and Yellow Spores flooded An He’s nostrils.

An He held her breath, going still. The pollution here far exceeded anything before. As a Cabin Cocoon, these would cloud her mind, strip her will—tantamount to death.

707 reached out, pinching An He’s cheeks and forcing her mouth open to breathe.

An He’s dangling hand didn’t resist. She stared at the face inches away. This young Cabin Cocoon had an innocently round face, yet it looked exceptionally cold.

An He’s lungs burned. At her limit, her head spun wildly. She couldn’t hold her breath forever—this wasn’t escaping the trap.

If she couldn’t be Assimilated by the God, it would kill her like that Cabin Cocoon.

“Gu Xianqing…” An He gasped with her last breath, calling to the one she trusted most—and least.

Gu Xianqing finally turned. Seeing 707 gripping An He’s chin, her brows furrowed unconsciously.

But Gu Xianqing said nothing, showed no intent to intervene.

An He’s heart plummeted. What a fool I’ve been, she thought, blinded by stupid trust. I’d forgotten her ties to the God.

“Don’t overthink it. She won’t harm me,” 707 said to An He, but her gaze passed over her, fixing on Gu Xianqing’s faintly enraged face.

Those words plunged An He into an ice pit.

Of course. She rarely saw Gu Xianqing strike at these Mycelium—except against Bone Eaters. Gu Xianqing avoided anything tied to the God.

They’d faced many foes together, but only when they weren’t the God’s did Gu Xianqing help. An He had been misled, thinking Gu Xianqing would aid her in any pinch. But against the God? She stood by.

All my goodwill, sending her medicine—wasted, fed to the dogs!

If even Gu Xianqing wouldn’t help, An He faced utter doom—no backup, all enemies.

Oh, and the useless Wen Yewang.

Damn it.

Damn it!

Rage surged in An He. Her instincts had warned her repeatedly: Gu Xianqing was dangerously untrustworthy. In dreams, awake, lost in passion—the warnings persisted. Yet she’d fallen into the trap again and again, desperate to trust.

Her lungs hit their limit, chest churning with nauseous acid. It hurt far worse than it should—the air was too foul.

Unable to breathe, bound by tree roots like countless corpse hands dragging her to the abyss.

Gu Xianqing’s “Don’t die” echoed mockingly in her ears now. What a pointless farce—fake concern!

An He gripped her sword single-handed, gritted her teeth, and struck. She wielded the sword like a knife, slashing upward diagonally. Shatterblade Time activated, severing half of 707’s palm.

Blood sprayed as An He gulped air, the severed hand thwacking onto the roots.

No chance of victory in a fight— she’d foreseen it.

But inaction was death.

She’d try to carve a path to live!

An He shed her tattered protective suit, yanking her legs free. Rip— Barbs tore deep gashes into her calves, flesh splitting, real pain jolting sweat from her.

Only now did An He understand Gu Xianqing’s pain tolerance: bodily agony sharpened her mind. She’d inhaled some spores, head foggy—the pain anchored her human consciousness.

The instant she moved, Cabin Cocoons behind 707 summoned Nestsouls. Countless jackals, wolves, tigers, and leopards lurked in the dark, howling skyward.

The silent shaft erupted in chaos.

707 ignored her lost hand, retreating to Wen Yewang’s side, watching An He’s death throes impassively.

An He powered her legs past the root spikes, charging 707’s face. Ravens burst forth one after another, blocking attacks, massive wings blending with shadow, sacrificing endlessly to buy her an opening.

Good thing Nestsouls don’t betray their own.

707 fell back. With a gesture, the black-haired wood-controller summoned roots, raising a knotted shield before her.

The Holy Sword pierced it effortlessly, but 707 had retreated three meters unharmed.

A voice came from behind: “You can’t hurt them like this.”

An He whipped around. Gu Xianqing followed in her wake, sheltered by the Ravens, casually enjoying the safety An He provided.

Never had An He burned with such fury. Is this woman utterly shameless?

“What do you mean?” An He barely controlled her rage. If not for the enemies, that sword would’ve stabbed Gu Xianqing’s face.

Gu Xianqing lowered her eyes, offering no defense.

The near-comatose Wen Yewang jolted awake at the beast roars, overhearing the exchange.

She stopped crying for help, chiming in instead: “What else could it mean? She’s a Red-Clothed Apostle, mocking you for not hurting her Lord God.”

Her tone was infuriatingly smug, fearless now—like spectating drama. More roots coiled before her, leaving only a slit for her eyes.

“Shut up!” Gu Xianqing snapped back quickly this time.

An He pressed her lips thin. Gu Xianqing could reply to her, but not explain? Infuriating!

Suddenly, the roots’ Mycelium retracted like ebbing tides. Soon, soaring flames erupted, igniting the roots. The underground space turned into a sea of fire.

For a split second, An He thought reinforcements had arrived—roots feared fire most. But no.

One of the six Cabin Cocoons controlled fire, kindling infernos, while the wood-controller cooperated—new roots grew, carrying unquenchable flames wherever they reached. Crackling pops filled the air; the dropped protective suit charred to ash in the gaps. Then flames licked An He’s skin.

No more darkness in the vast space—only inextinguishable blaze. Ravens scattered in the scorching updrafts like fleeing shadows, retreating nowhere, cries filling the air.

An He and Gu Xianqing were ringed by fire. Every breath seared.

“Too late.” Gu Xianqing stood amid the flames, fire merging with her clothes like one. Her voice was soft as she reached forward: “Don’t stop.”

Gu Xianqing shoved An He’s back hard. Caught off-guard, An He stumbled into the enemy encirclement.

That push sent her onto the enemies’ blades.

Is Gu Xianqing trying to kill me? An He raged. Steadying with her sword, she spotted the nearest Cabin Cocoon—the fire-controller.

Arm’s length away.

Mycelium had just retracted nearby, writhing red threads fleeing, replaced by rising firelight.

An He glimpsed those threads, grasping Gu Xianqing’s intent. Her own power wasn’t enough against six stronger Embedded Spirit Bodies. Brute force hurt none here.

No head-on fights.

Her Innate Talent wasn’t for brawls.

Only they could hurt themselves.

Insight struck. An He stepped onto searing branches, soles nearly melting. She sheathed her sword and lunged at the fire-controller Cabin Cocoon.

It retreated swiftly. Roots before An He glowed red-hot; pursuers closed from behind. Undeterred, she stamped collapsing deadwood, leaping again.

Under Shatterblade Time, even her singeing hair was vivid. She vaulted flames, eyes locked on the foe. As she descended, she switched talents, activating [Parasite]!

A Cabin Cocoon slashed her back with Cutting Technique. A Raven blocked, or she’d have been bisected.

Wounded, An He didn’t flinch, fixated solely on the fire-controller.

If she survived this, she would burn the God to ashes, leaving not even a speck behind. Her desire burned as fiercely as these flames—she would pay any price!

The skin she touched was ice-cold. An He knew the God’s mental power dwarfed her own; the Parasite might only hold for a breath or two, but it was enough. She gritted her teeth. The fire-controller was forced to unleash its power, every flame surging wildly along the tree roots, burning back toward the black-haired Cabin Cocoon that commanded wood.

The flames thickened to purple, then black—like hellfire from the underworld. They detonated with a bang at the black-haired Cabin Cocoon’s position.

So flames had a sound when they erupted. The tree roots, masquerading as clothing, ignited all at once. The Mycelium clinging to them caught fire too, turning the Yellow Spores red like flying embers, swirling in circles.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

The God’s mental power finally overwhelmed An He, expelling the Parasite’s effect.

As expected, the God resisted faster than Gu Xianqing had. An He didn’t linger, retreating instantly to her original spot to stand beside Gu Xianqing.

The black-haired Cabin Cocoon collapsed, gravely wounded. The searing backlash struck the God herself. For the moment, no new tree roots sprouted in the vertical shaft.

An He felt no joy—only unignorable pains wracking her entire body.

This agony kept her nerves strung taut at the highest pitch.

The surviving Ravens transmitted signals, all converging in An He’s mind. Just as she had struck, a few Ravens had observed the remaining Cabin Cocoons’ Innate Talents.

But the Ravens couldn’t process information like Gu Xianqing. As Gu Xianqing pulled away from her side, they collided for an instant, and she issued a direct command: “Cutting. Fire.”

An He understood immediately. Use the Cabin Cocoon with the Cutting Innate Talent against the fire-controller enemy—solving the most pressing crisis.

Every Cabin Cocoon here possessed top-tier Innate Talents. Any one of them could bolster Sekhmet’s army immensely if they reached the surface alive.

Too bad An He had no intention of letting a single one walk out.

She alternated between the Eye of Prophecy and Parasitic Talent, seizing the initiative with Shatterblade Time. She fought like a woman possessed, leaving rear observation entirely to Gu Xianqing.

Damn that Gu Xianqing. Their relationship was so strange. Every time An He resolved not to trust her again, Gu Xianqing dangled some sweet reward.

An He was trapped in a dilemma. She couldn’t refuse Gu Xianqing’s aid—crude as it sounded, she was hooked, unable to tear herself away.

She sensed something off. In the foresight from three minutes ago, she and Gu Xianqing had no such coordinated tactics.

That meant Gu Xianqing hadn’t planned to act at first. No matter how An He calculated back then, it was a death trap.

But now, Gu Xianqing had stepped in.

Or rather, not quite. She hid in the safe space An He had carved out, slyly directing her attacks from the sidelines.

No one else would know: aside from the God, Gu Xianqing was the only one who knew An He commanded countless Innate Talents. Gu Xianqing could always provide the optimal solution.

Yet Gu Xianqing herself remained hands-off, dodging all Mycelium, steering clear of every God-Parasited Cabin Cocoon. Her advice stayed vague, and she hadn’t even drawn the gun at her waist.

The instant An He attacked, she began reevaluating the God’s words—”She won’t hurt me.”

Memories unraveled piece by piece, flooding in. Gu Xianqing, that woman, always skirted talk of the God and almost never acted against her. Last time, the God had layered illusions in Gu Xianqing’s dream—Gu Xianqing hadn’t lifted a finger to help. An He had escaped on her own.

Gu Xianqing wouldn’t hurt the God… or couldn’t she?

What if she did?

An He thought: Everyone’s just standing by now. Testing it out myself isn’t too much, right?

The worst outcome anyway was dying together here.

An He cycled her Innate Talents rapidly, charging desperately toward the Cabin Cocoon wielding the Cutting Technique. In one stroke, she bisected the fire-controller.

Blood sprayed, staining An He’s eyelashes red.

As she returned to Gu Xianqing’s side, An He flashed an innocent smile. Firelight and blood made it eerily bewitching. Gu Xianqing inexplicably felt a chill.

Sure enough, An He suddenly swung her fist, smashing it into Gu Xianqing’s forehead. Mycelium-tipped fingers burrowed into her skin.

The abrupt punch left Gu Xianqing dazed. Far off, Wen Yewang—watching the chaos with dazzled eyes—froze too, ignoring the flames licking toward her eyebrows along the tree roots. Wen Yewang let out a sigh of admiration: “Worthy of Vivian.”

In Wen Yewang’s eyes, An He was single-handedly battling seven foes, even finding a spare moment to sock Gu Xianqing.

In such a grand battle, win or lose, dying after witnessing it was a mercy.

An He’s teeth ground nearly to shards as she heedlessly drained her mental power. Months had passed since she’d last used Mycelium to control Gu Xianqing—this time, she released it far more skillfully.

The Mycelium forced Gu Xianqing to draw her gun and aim. This time, the target was the “God”—the one with the Cutting Technique.

An He knew Gu Xianqing’s marksmanship was excellent.

Bullets flew in rapid succession, unrelenting until the clip emptied.

An He released Gu Xianqing, spinning into Shatterblade Time. She surged forward with the bullets, vaulting over the flames to finish the job.

Everyone but Wen Yewang reeled. Every Nestsoul roared in confrontation with the Ravens. Flames, beast shadows, sprinting figures—the whole space devolved into total pandemonium.

Pu-chi—

The sound of bullets piercing skin and lodging in flesh and bone was so faint, drowned in the uproar.

An He ignored the incoming assaults, whipping her head back. Through the unquenched firelight, she locked eyes defiantly with Gu Xianqing.