Chương 2250: Chapter 41: The Land of Peril

Ancient trees reached toward the heavens like the gnarled fingers of giants, their interlocking boughs forming a ceiling of emerald and shadow that choked out the sun. Within this primordial forest, the distinction between day and night had vanished; a perpetual, suffocating twilight reigned, thick with the scent of damp earth and the slow, cloying fermentation of centuries-old leaf litter. The air was heavy, stagnant, and carried a faint, sickly-sweet odor of decay that clung to the back of the throat.

Not far from the point of entry, a colossal skeleton lay sprawled across the forest floor. It was a mountain of bleached ivory, several stories high, its ribcage forming a hollow cathedral of bone. Whatever beast this had been, it had died eons ago, yet its remains stood as a silent, grim warning to any who dared tread upon these forgotten paths. Reyn stood amidst the rot, his expression unreadable.

With a casual flick of his wrist, a shimmering veil of spiritual essence expanded around him—a protective barrier to ward off the miasma. He closed his eyes, attempting to project his Divine Sense through the 'Zhen' Jade Pendant to map the surrounding terrain. A moment later, his brow furrowed, and a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his face.

"My Divine Sense..." he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustle of the canopy.

"At my current level, it should span over a hundred and fifty miles. Here, it is compressed to barely thirty. A mere fifth of its true reach. It seems this Trial Realm is layered with ancient restrictions specifically designed to suppress a cultivator's spiritual perception." He fell into a brief, calculating silence. Then, a cold, predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

If his own formidable Divine Sense was suppressed to this degree, the other participants—those so-called geniuses of the sects—would be virtually blind. They would be wandering through this deathtrap with no more than their physical eyes to guide them. Orienting himself toward the heart of the forest, Reyn transformed into a streak of azure light, whistling through the air as he took flight.

He had barely covered a few hundred yards when a blur of obsidian light erupted from the trunk of a massive, moss-covered tree. It moved with the speed of a fired bolt, aimed directly at the back of Reyn's skull. Without even turning his head, Reyn struck out backward with a casual palm. Spiritual energy condensed instantly, forming a translucent, ethereal hand that snatched the projectile out of the air. The 'projectile' was a black serpent, several feet long, its scales shimmering with a metallic, oily sheen.

Its face was a mask of primal ferocity, dominated by oversized fangs that dripped with a viscous, dark ichor. Even trapped within the crushing grip of the spiritual hand, the beast showed no fear. It thrashed with unnatural strength, its body coiling like a spring, before it unhinged its jaws and spat a glob of jet-black venom. The poison struck Reyn's protective barrier with a violent hiss, sounding like cold water hitting a vat of boiling oil.

To Reyn's surprise, the spiritual shield began to thin at an alarming rate, the venom eating through the condensed energy with terrifying efficiency.

"An Ancient Variant," Reyn noted, his eyes narrowing. His Divine Sense had flagged the creature as a mere Level 1 Demon Beast, but the sheer potency of its toxin far exceeded anything found in the outside world.

"The creatures here have preserved the bloodlines of the primordial era. Their lethality is on a different scale entirely. Anyone who treats this place like a standard hunting ground will find their life forfeit before they even see their killer." With a sharp clench of his fist, the spiritual hand imploded. The serpent was reduced to a pulp of broken bone and shredded scales in an instant. Reyn tossed the remains aside and vanished into the depths of the woods, his speed increasing.

Elsewhere in the Trial Realm, the oppressive forest gave way to a scene of deceptive tranquility. A secluded lake lay nestled between rolling hills, its surface as smooth as a polished mirror. At the center of the lake sat a tiny islet, no more than two yards across. Growing from the center of this patch of earth was a singular, vibrant plant. It stood a foot tall, with three emerald branches supporting three pale yellow fruits that shimmered with an inner light.

A delicate, intoxicating fragrance wafted from the fruit, carried by a gentle breeze. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. A ripple appeared in the space near the shore, and a cultivator stepped out. He wore a black Daoist robe embroidered with white cloud patterns—the signature attire of the Beast Taming Sect from Qingzhou. The man was cautious. He immediately erected a sturdy barrier and slapped a Spirit-Beast Bag at his waist.

In a flash of light, a low-slung, golden-scaled beast with heavy armor plating appeared before him, growling low in its throat. Only then did the cultivator allow himself to look around. When his eyes landed on the islet, they widened in sheer, unadulterated greed. He inhaled deeply, his chest heaving with excitement.

"The legends were true! The Trial Realm is a treasury! Three branches, three fruits, pale yellow with a crystalline scent... this is the Seven-Colored Glazed Fruit! A single one can temper the physical body to the strength of iron and grant twenty years of longevity!" He laughed, a sharp, jagged sound.

"To think I would stumble upon such a prize the moment I arrived!" Despite his fervor, he remained methodical. He commanded his armored beast to scout the shoreline. When the creature encountered no resistance, he approached the water's edge. The lake was crystal clear; he could see lazy grass carp drifting through swaying stalks of azure water grass. Closing his eyes, he performed a series of hand seals—the Beast Taming Secret Method.

He reached out with his mind, tapping into the simple consciousness of the fish and the flora. He sensed no malice, no hidden predators, only the peaceful, rhythmic pulse of nature.

"The carp are calm, the grass is still. There is no danger here," he muttered, his eyes burning with hunger.

"Perhaps the Master's warnings were exaggerated. This is my destiny." He recalled his beast to the bag, wanting no distractions. With a burst of speed, he took flight, gliding toward the center of the lake. He reached out, his fingers inches away from the Seven-Colored Glazed Fruit, ready to uproot the entire plant. Then, the world broke. The 'island' beneath the fruit suddenly split down the middle. A blinding yellow light erupted, ensnaring the cultivator in a paralyzing field of gravity.

Before he could scream, the ground beneath the fruit rose up, revealing itself to be the upper jaw of a gargantuan, camouflaged maw. Two rows of jagged, serrated teeth, each the size of a shortsword, snapped shut toward him.

"No!" the disciple roared. He was a veteran of many battles; even in his terror, his reflexes held. He threw a defensive magic treasure into the air, which expanded into a brilliant dome of light, shielding him from the closing jaws. But the trap was far more sophisticated than a single predator. A series of sharp, whistling sounds tore through the air. The 'lazy' grass carp beneath the surface suddenly transformed. Their scales hardened into blades, and they launched themselves out of the water like silver arrows.

Their mouths opened to reveal concentric circles of needle-like teeth as they slammed into the cultivator's barrier. Crack! Crack! Crack! In the span of a heartbeat, dozens of fish shattered against the shield, turning into a red mist of gore, but their suicidal momentum didn't stop. Hundreds more followed, a relentless, silver tide of kamikaze strikes. Under the combined pressure of the giant maw's gravity and the fish's assault, the barrier shattered. The disciple's face paled.

He reached into his storage bag and gripped his Trial Stone. This was his fail-safe. All he had to do was crush it with a surge of mana, and he would be teleported to safety. He looked at the closing teeth and the swarming fish, a sneer of desperate defiance on his face.

"Stupid beasts! You think you can keep me here? I am leaving!" He began to channel his power into his hand. But in that microsecond, a streak of green light lashed out from the depths. A strand of the 'peaceful' azure water grass, moving with the precision of a viper, wrapped around his wrist and the Trial Stone. With a violent yank, it tore the stone from his grasp and dragged it into the dark, cold depths of the lake.

"NO!!" The disciple's scream was cut short as the first wave of fish reached him, their teeth tearing chunks of flesh from his limbs. A moment later, the massive jaws of the 'island' snapped shut. A sickening crunch of bone and gristle echoed across the water. The giant mouth chewed rhythmically for several seconds before opening once more, spitting out a pile of polished, bloodless white bones.

The bones sank into the water, where the azure grass immediately coiled around them, dragging them into the silt to serve as fertilizer. Silence returned to the lake. The grass carp resumed their lazy drifting. The water grass swayed gently. And on the island, the Seven-Colored Glazed Fruit continued to glow, its fragrance as sweet and inviting as a siren's song, waiting for the next 'genius' to arrive.