Chapter 28: The Terrifying Upright Ape in the Primeval Wilderness

The wave of toxic air surged forth, acrid and rotten, thick as an endless sea of dark green, and the sky gradually dimmed. This was the sorcery of the ape fiend chieftain—a name unimportant, but its power undeniable. With a single breath, he could melt a rock a yard tall into bubbling sludge.

The hunting party had long since investigated his sorcery; their countermeasure was to hurl spears imbued with divine power from a distance greater than thirty feet, skewering him like a porcupine. Yet now, Luo Zu stepped forward of his own accord, evidently confident in his own methods.

With a surge of true energy, a fierce wind swept up from the ground.

Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!

This was the art of wind control. In a heartbeat, the wild gale swept the poisonous smoke and acidic vapor back upon the ape fiend chieftain, slapping straight into his broad face.

It happened too swiftly; the chieftain was unprepared, unable to dodge, and was instantly engulfed in a cloud of emerald toxic fumes. He howled in agony, desperate to escape, but his own poison clung tenaciously to whatever it touched, burning and binding, impossible to shake off.

In mere moments, he melted into a foul, putrid puddle of blood, lying still by the stream. He had hoped to plunge into the water and wash away the poison, but Luo Zu had sent a sword energy across the air, severing six of his limbs, leaving him crawling at the bank. His eyes, already corroded by the toxins, stared hollowly at the stream, until they too dissolved into nothing.

As the ape fiend died in silence, Luo Zu flashed across the clearing by the stream, slaughtering the remaining fiends one by one. Even those who fled into the dense forest were struck down by Luo Zu’s distant blade, their headless necks spraying blood to soak ancient trees—a truly grisly sight.

Two fiends managed to escape while Luo Zu pursued their companions, but the “Cave Dweller” hunting party, waiting eagerly nearby, was ready for them.

A rustling, uncanny sound echoed, and the fiends’ flight and low howls faded, until they vanished entirely.

For Ironhead and his comrades, the battle was not arduous. One terrified fiend, nearly ten feet long, crashed straight into Ironhead’s heavy wooden shield, thinking to play the hero. Ironhead, whose strength had multiplied and who stood as immovable as a mountain thanks to his divine art, struck the fiend dizzy.

Seizing the opportunity, Ironhead grinned savagely and hefted his broad stone axe, cleaving down. The fiend’s hard skull was sliced as easily as paper by the axe, which bore the power of the metal element; its brains were as fragile as paste, and its blood sprayed all over Ironhead.

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After being drenched in the foul, sticky black blood, Ironhead showed no disgust; instead, he raised his stone axe high and laughed loudly.

When his laughter subsided, he saw Luo Zu gazing at him with a look that suggested Ironhead was a fool.

“Check and see if any have been missed,” Luo Zu said, striding over a dozen yards in a single step to reach Ironhead’s side, clapping his shoulder.

Ironhead always obeyed Luo Zu without question. “Alright!” he replied cheerfully, carrying his stone axe toward the battlefield.

Yet as he entered the bloody scene, he froze, as did the other team members; wide-eyed, mouths agape. Astonishment—this was the very essence.

“All dead already?” Ironhead stared at the headless ape fiend corpses and the splashes of blood that assaulted the senses. Never before had their hunts been so intense, save perhaps for the time Luo Zu fought the unicorn alone.

“Count them, count them,” Ironhead was awakened by the acrid stench, nudging a teammate.

Everyone hurried to action.

While they nervously counted the ape fiends’ heads, small fish gathered in the nearby stream, clustering around a tall, dense patch of reeds.

There, a young ape fiend hid carefully, clenching his teeth, not daring to move an inch for fear of drawing attention from the group across the bank.

Though young, he was clever, the only child of the chieftain to awaken the power of sorcery.

He recalled that earlier, on this hot day, he had merely wanted to play in the stream, and after some time, sleep overtook him; he did not return to his tribe, instead napping among the reeds.

In his drowsy sleep, he suddenly heard fierce fighting on the opposite bank, and a sharp howl.

He hurried to see what was happening, but as he reached the edge of the reed bed, he saw his father consumed by his own sorcery, those hollow eyes oozing dark pus fixed on him, and a cry of anguish.

In that moment, he understood—his father wanted him to stay hidden, not to be found.

He might not grasp the meaning of vengeance, but now he felt an extreme fury toward the creature that had exterminated his clan. It burned in his chest, making him tremble, but fear held him back, even his breath stilled; only when that creature turned away did he dare to take a few deep breaths.

Yet soon, a whole group of such creatures emerged, noisy and bustling out of the forest, gesturing at his kin and making strange sounds at his father—laughter.

His anger grew, his chest inflamed by a restless heat.

Then, the commotion across the bank suddenly ceased, and the two-legged creatures paced the clearing, seemingly anxious.

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Then he heard a phrase whose meaning he did not understand.

“Chief, there’s one missing.”

At first, it meant nothing to him, but the next moment, dread chilled his entire body.

“Is it this one?” The voice came from behind him.

Swish!

He heard a swift rush of wind, and his world spun upside down; through blurred vision, he saw the creature who had slain his father.

And his own headless body.

He realized the creature had already discovered him.

Plop!

His head fell into the water. Luo Zu watched dispassionately as the head was carried away by the murmuring stream.

Drip, drip, drip.

Blood oozed from the smooth cut on the ape fiend’s neck, but Luo Zu only gazed at the broad, door-sized sword in his hand.

Though heavy and large, its blade was keenly sharp, strengthened and honed by metal element sorcery—combining edge and resilience.

Luo Zu glanced again at the slick wound still bleeding on the corpse, and frowned slightly; he was still dissatisfied with the result.

This sword needed far more tempering and ritual refinement, synchronized with Luo Zu’s own cultivation, to greatly augment his power.

After all, it had only recently been forged.

Having resolved this, Luo Zu slung the sword onto his back, then waved to the hunting party across the river.

“Let’s return in triumph!”

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