Dawn always came agonizingly slow to the bottom of the cliff.
In this forest of tumbled stone that never saw sunlight, a strange procession was advancing in silence.
At the front: a two-meter-tall deformed skeleton—bone shield in its left hand, knuckle dusters on its right, reverse-jointed rabbit legs below the waist—bulldozing a path forward like heavy construction equipment.
Above: a palm-sized bone bird, bleached corpse-white, circling at low altitude as a makeshift radar.
And bringing up the rear: a young man in tattered servant's clothes, eyes gleaming with sharp awareness.
"One man, one bird, one skeleton..."
Mo Fan watched No. 001's back—still draped in ragged cloth scraps—then glanced up at No. 002's circling skeletal form overhead. The combination struck him as equal parts bizarre and oddly aesthetic.
"If 001 got a catchphrase, should it be: 'Since you've asked so sincerely'?"
Mo Fan chuckled at his own joke, mentally completing the dimension-crossing meme.
"Then I guess we're 'Team Rocket of the Cultivation World.' Blasting off through the galaxy... no wait, blasting off through the mass graves. A white hole—a white tomorrow awaits us—"
"The only question is: in this brutal cultivation world, who's the Pikachu waiting to electrocute us?"
This gallows humor helped ease the suffocating oppression of the valley floor.
After most of a night spent "clearing the perimeter," Mo Fan was feeling rather anxious.
The resources here—beyond those remnant souls—were pathetically scarce.
Using his crash site as the center point, anywhere remotely safe had been picked clean by this hyena. The place was as empty as the author's wallet. Apart from a few Corpse-Eating Rats and venomous insects worth 1 EXP each, he couldn't find a single bone worth harvesting.
That agonizingly long LV. 3 progress bar, after half a night's work, had crawled forward by one pitiful increment.
[ LV. 3 (50/1400) ]
"At this rate, GTA 6 will release before I hit Level 10."
Mo Fan sighed, his gaze drifting involuntarily toward the churning mist ahead.
That was the "Shallow Mist Zone"—the absolute red line he'd drawn for himself.
"I'll just hover at the edge. Definitely not going in."
That's what he'd told himself an hour ago.
But through the gray-white filter of [ Death Vision ], that red line seemed less terrifying now. Almost... inviting.
Through the thin edges of the fog, Mo Fan could clearly see over a dozen fingernail-sized green glows floating less than twenty meters in.
Remnant souls.
And these were more condensed, more tempting than the ones outside—first-tier remnant souls that wouldn't dissipate at any moment.
"Right at the edge... I could almost reach out and grab them."
Mo Fan's throat bobbed.
It felt like being a beggar who hadn't eaten in three days, staring at a roast chicken through a pane of glass.
He glanced at the fully-armed No. 001 beside him. After yesterday's [ Bone Armament ] upgrades, No. 001's defense had skyrocketed. It could even tank a few hits from a mid-tier first-rank Spirit Beast.
Overhead, No. 002 circled on patrol—every rustle within a hundred meters was under surveillance.
He'd even crafted a simple heart-guard plate for himself using his newly learned skills.
An illusion called "returning laden with spoils," mixed with the stat inflation from reaching LV. 3, caused that nerve labeled "survival instinct" to slacken ever so slightly.
"I'll just step in a tiny bit. Grab two remnant souls and bolt."
"001's got the front, 002's got the eyes. Even if that 'Pikachu' shows up, I can still get out in one piece."
Greed overwhelmed reason.
Mo Fan stood and waved No. 001 forward.
One step. Two steps.
The instant his foot crossed into the mist, the air around him seemed to freeze solid.
No warning at all.
Mo Fan still had [ Death Vision ] running out of habit. His field of view was a silent expanse of gray and white. Those clusters of green remnant souls seemed within arm's reach, radiating a delicious aura.
But the moment that thought formed—the moment he assumed this would be another easy "shopping trip"—
Deep within that thick fog, something stirred.
As if sliced open by a blade, the mist began to roil violently.
A blinding red light burst into Mo Fan's vision without any warning.
This wasn't some feeble red dot like a rat's. Nor was it the lumbering red blood-mass of a Demon-Eye Rabbit.
This was a streak.
A crimson streak so fast it left afterimages burned into his retinas.
"Wha—"
Mo Fan's pupils contracted violently. That Team Rocket joke died in his throat.
No. 002, circling overhead, didn't even have time to screech a warning before that red light had crossed a hundred meters. A suffocating gust of blood-tinged wind slammed into his face.
That speed—Mo Fan couldn't even track it, let alone react.
So much for "just hovering at the edge."
In front of a true predator, that was nothing but a joke.
"001! PROTECT ME!"
The shout was pure survival instinct.
Fortunately, while No. 001 wasn't exactly bright, its execution of direct commands was absolute. The instant Mo Fan screamed, that modified ape-arm shot up, slamming the newly-forged [ Scrap-Iron Bone Shield ] directly in front of its master.
CLANG—!
A teeth-grinding shriek of metal on metal exploded through the silent valley.
The massive impact sent No. 001's hulking frame skidding backward, its feet carving two deep furrows into the hard ground. Three steps back before it barely stabilized.
Three deep gouges now scarred the sturdy bone shield—deep enough to see bone—and the scrap-iron plate embedded in its center had been torn open.
But that was all.
It held.
"It held..." Mo Fan's heart hammered as he stared at the [ Rat-Fang ] spikes on the shield's surface, now decorated with a tuft of black fur and traces of blood—the counter-attack barbs had done their job.
"Close call! Good thing I upgraded the gear yesterday—otherwise 001 would've been scrap!"
Only now did Mo Fan get a clear look at his attacker.
A leopard. Nearly two meters long.
Jet black, its fur rippling with dark purple patterns that seemed almost alive. In the dim valley floor, it looked like a piece of the shadows given form. Only its ghostly green eyes showed any color—gleaming with cold, calculating intelligence.
[ Target: Shadow Leopard (Tier-1 High-Grade) ]
[ Danger Level: EXTREMELY DANGEROUS ]
[ Traits: High Agility, Shadow Affinity ]
"First-rank high-tier?!"
Mo Fan's heart lurched.
This wasn't some mid-tier idiot like the Demon-Eye Rabbit that only knew how to charge head-on. According to cultivation world bestiaries, Shadow Leopards were notorious for their grudge-holding nature and high intelligence. They were the last predator any Qi Condensation cultivator wanted to encounter.
The Shadow Leopard landed but didn't press the attack like a rabid dog.
It extended its scarlet tongue, licking the wound on its muzzle where the shield spikes had cut it. The murderous gleam in its eyes intensified—yet it actually stepped back.
It had discovered that this big skeleton was a "tough nut"—couldn't bite through, and it bit back.
So it changed tactics.
This time, no straight charge. It began to circle.
Using the valley's maze of boulders and shadows, its form flickered in and out of visibility. To Mo Fan's eyes, all he could see was a black afterimage orbiting No. 001 at high speed—left, right, left again.
"Don't panic! Back against the cliff wall! Defense!"
Mo Fan shouted his commands.
But soon, he realized something was wrong.
Delay.
That 0.5-second mental transmission delay—the one he'd overlooked while killing rats—was now infinitely magnified against a speed-type killer like the Shadow Leopard.
Mo Fan's brain issued the command: "Block left." No. 001 received the order. Bones engaged. Shield raised.
But that half-second gap was enough for the Shadow Leopard to change direction three times.
No. 001 flailed its long arms clumsily, the heavy bone shield always smashing into the afterimages the leopard left behind. It whooshed through empty air, unable to graze so much as a single hair.
This was a one-sided game of cat and mouse.