The air at the bottom of Abandoned Sword Cliff always carried a suffocating damp chill, yet Mo Fan felt as cordial as coming home.
Following his memory, he found that inconspicuous leeward slope where the air still permeated with that strong sour-rotten odor.
That was the distinctive smell of a Rotbone Ant nest.
By the faint soul fire in Summon No. 001's eye sockets, Mo Fan could make out the scene before him: a massive mound bulging from the ground like a festering sore, with countless dark red ants the size of fingernails entering and exiting.
They had no eyes, relying entirely on antennae for perception. Their enormous mandibles dripped heart-palpitating transparent liquid that made sizzling corrosive sounds when falling on rocks.
"Compared to iron sand, this stuff is definitely hardcore enough."
Mo Fan swallowed, forcibly suppressing his physiological discomfort.
He had No. 001 and No. 003 stand guard ten meters away, even having No. 001 crouch on the ground doodling circles out of boredom to prevent their death aura from scaring off these little creatures.
"Here goes, first bite."
Mo Fan extended his left hand, carefully using two twigs to pick up an isolated worker ant and place it on his right arm.
The startled Rotbone Ant showed no hesitation, opening those sharp mandibles and viciously biting down on that tender flesh.
Crack.
Skin pierced through.
Immediately, an indescribable excruciating pain exploded. This wasn't merely the pain of torn flesh—it was more like a drop of boiling sulfuric acid injected into blood vessels, burning madly along nerve endings.
"Nngh—!"
Mo Fan bit hard on the pre-prepared wooden stick in his mouth, veins instantly bulging on his forehead.
The System Panel on his retina immediately flashed a red alert:
[ Warning: Suffering corrosive biological toxin attack! ]
[ HP: 80 -> 79 -> 78... ]
HP wasn't dropping fast, but this meant not just vitality loss—it meant his muscle tissue was dissolving.
"Right now!"
Mo Fan forcibly suppressed the urge to gouge out this piece of flesh. With a thought, he mobilized the dormant blue Mana within.
[ Bone Armament ]
Blue ghostly light surged beneath the skin, hardening, rapidly enveloping the blackening wound.
A miracle occurred.
The Corpse Poison that originally had devastating effects on living cells didn't produce rejection when encountering the homologous "armament hardening." Instead, like a drop of ink falling into the ocean, it was quickly assimilated and decomposed.
That burning agony began receding, replaced by an unbearably itchy swelling sensation—a signal that destroyed muscle fibers were beginning frenzied regeneration under the flesh's stimulation.
[ HP: 75 -> 76 -> 77... ]
The health bar halted its decline and began slowly rising.
"Gamble paid off."
Mo Fan spat out the wooden stick, looking at the scabbed-over spot on his arm displaying a strange grayish-black color, a trace of madness flashing in his eyes.
Theory confirmed.
Though painful as hell, it wouldn't kill him. As long as he didn't die, he could train.
"Since one isn't enough, then..."
Mo Fan glanced at that massive ant nest, took a deep breath—like a condemned prisoner heading to execution.
He stopped catching them one by one. Instead, he rolled up his sleeve and thrust his entire arm into the nest entrance, even using his other hand to grab a handful of dirt and violently smash it onto the nest.
Boom!
The colony exploded.
Countless enraged Rotbone Ants surged out, madly climbing and biting along that "delivered" arm.
"Aaaaargh—!!!"
Despite mental preparation, when that death-by-a-thousand-cuts agony erupted simultaneously, Mo Fan nearly blacked out.
He bit hard on the wooden stick, teeth embedding into wood grain, producing teeth-grinding friction sounds.
[ HP: 80 -> 65 -> 50 -> 40... ]
His health bar plummeted like a high dive.
[ Warning: Vital signs entering critical range! ]
"Harden, harden for me!"
Mo Fan frantically circulated Mana, blue light almost forming substance across his body surface.
Simultaneously, he constantly recited and circulated the Iron Bone Art's incantation in his mind, maintaining the external cultivation state.
This was a tug-of-war.
Destruction versus repair, toxin versus Mana—brutal combat unfolding between his dermis and muscles. Each cell rupture and reorganization was tempering this originally frail body.
If anyone passed by the cliff bottom now, they'd witness an extremely horrific scene:
A ragged youth covered in red poisonous insects, skin festering and blackening, yet still sitting there like a statue, only occasionally emitting suppressed beast-like groans from his throat.
HP repeatedly jumped between 35 and 65.
Whenever dropping below the 35 warning line, Mo Fan would use Mana bursts to shake off the swarm, retreat aside to catch his breath and recover HP. Once his health bar refilled, he'd charge back into the insect pile, continuing this masochistic cycle.
This was like doing failure sets at the gym, except his equipment was deadly poisonous insects, and the price paid was dripping blood and flesh.
Monotonous, cruel, and deathly silent.
Unknown how much time passed.
When the sliver of sky at the cliff top showed pale dawn light again, the Rotbone Ants had also tired, retreating into the nest depths.
Mo Fan collapsed by a puddle not far from the nest, looking like he'd just been fished from an ink vat.
Trembling, he scooped up ice-cold accumulated water, washing his body repeatedly. Dried blood scabs, dead ant limbs, and yellow tissue fluid were thoroughly rinsed away.
As the filth receded, the skin beneath was revealed.
The originally pale, weakness-from-chronic-malnutrition skin belonging to Lu Xiaoqi was gone.
In its place was a layer of bronzed skin that even faintly gleamed with dark iron luster under the light.
This wasn't a suntan.
This was a bizarre "metallic texture" resulting from repeated corpse poison immersion and muscle fiber destruction-reorganization thousands upon thousands of times.
Mo Fan looked at the reflection in the water.
That somewhat scrawny servant youth with evasive eyes had disappeared. Now his shoulders seemed broader, his body's lines—though not exaggerated—showed every muscle like twisted steel cables, emanating a fierce, hardened martial artist temperament.
Though skin tone had become somewhat dark, this wasn't uncommon in the cultivation world. Instead, it made him look more like an ascetic practitioner who'd traveled extensively.
"Got more handsome... and harder too."
Mo Fan laughed self-deprecatingly, summoning the System Panel.
After a night of torment, the data provided the most honest feedback:
[ Constitution: Trace increase ]
[ Defense: Trace increase (Low-tier toxin resistance greatly increased) ]
[ Skill "Iron Bone Art" Progress: 1% -> 10% (Beginner) ]
"Beginner level in one night."
Mo Fan clenched his fist hard, feeling that tight, resilient sensation from his fingertips. He tried forcefully scratching his arm with his fingernail.
Previously this would definitely break skin and bleed, but now it only left a shallow white mark that vanished instantly.
"This is what someone who can survive in the cultivation world should look like."
Mo Fan stood up. Though his entire body still ached faintly, his spine was straighter than ever before.