Zuh Qil leapt between massive boulders—each one at least two meters wide—as the earth beneath him shattered into a gaping abyss. The rocks shifted unpredictably, tossed by the Sleeping Tortoise's tremors, forcing him to constantly adjust his footing.
His opponents mirrored his movements, hopping across the unstable terrain. But Zuh Qil wasn't just surviving—he was countering. With every jump, he kicked loose stones toward them, forcing them to wobble midair. Meanwhile, the two cultivators retaliated with ranged attacks, forcing Zuh Qil into a relentless dance of evasion. A single misstep would send him tumbling into the abyss.
Elsewhere, the Rank 7 cultivator faced his own peril. Nine razor-edged vines lashed toward him from the front. He sidestepped—only for twelve more to erupt from below, spearing upward like serpents from the earth. His reflexes saved him, barely, as he twisted away from the ambush.
The battle raged on—balance against chaos, precision against desperation.
"Tch. Didn't expect them to last this long," he muttered, watching the chaos unfold below. The Sleeping Tortoise had the Rank 7 cultivator thoroughly occupied—writhing vines and quaking earth kept the man pinned.
No point waiting.
With a sharp exhale, he pushed off the Tortoise's massive shell and shot toward the fray, following the echoes of battle. Only a few Rank 6s remained.
Time to end this.
Yang Zhai moved across the fractured battlefield with effortless precision, his movements so fluid it seemed like he was merely practicing forms rather than fighting for his life. When the two Rank 6 cultivators came into view, he halted—not to hesitate, but to prepare.
His fingers flicked subtly, and spheres of condensed air materialized around him, silent and invisible. He edged closer, just enough for his attack to reach.
Meanwhile, the first Rank 6 sneered, dozens of crimson, hiltless blades hovering behind him like a swarm of bloodthirsty wasps.
"Let's see you dodge this in a crumbling hellscape," he taunted, flicking his wrist. The blades shot forward in a deadly wave.
"Don't forget mine," the second cultivator added, slashing his hand through the air. A razor-edged gust of wind followed, slicing through the debris-strewn battlefield.
Cornered, Zuh Qil did the unthinkable—he leaped into one of the bottomless fissures.
The cultivators scoffed. "Did he just—?"
But before they could finish, Zuh's hands slammed into the cliffside mid-fall, fingers digging into the rock with crushing force. He wasn't falling.
He was waiting.
Yang Zhai's lips curled.
The trap was sprung.
Now.
His compressed air spheres shot forward—unseen, unstoppable—just as Zuh kicked off the wall, launching himself back into the fight.
The spheres didn't strike the Rank 6 cultivators directly. Instead, they slammed into the boulders beneath and around them—stone vaporizing in a violent burst, the air filled with the roar of shattering rock.
The two cultivators staggered, their footing ripped away. "What?!" one shouted, confusion cracking his voice.
From the fissure below, Zuh Qil exploded upward. He landed on a jagged boulder, coiling every ounce of power into a brutal fist that smashed into a Rank 6 cultivator's skull—shattering bone and brain into a bloody mist.
The other cultivator roared, "You bastard!!" as he witnessed his companion's head explode.
But his scream was cut short. A hand clamped down behind his head. Then a crushing force with the weight of a mountain pressed against his head.
His eyes widened, a flicker of recognition sparking in his mind. Before the thought could form, his skull was pulverized into a grotesque pulp. From the wreckage, a fist emerged.
Yang Zhai landed. He shook off the brain matter from his hand and asked.
"So, how many did you kill?" Yang Zhai asked Zuh Qil, voice cold and steady.
Zuh Qil raised a single finger and gestured a few more times.
"So, one died by vines and you killed two. Then only one Rank 6 left. Plus the Rank 7. Two remain."
Above them, the moon hung high, casting pale light over the shattered forest. The earth convulsed beneath their feet, yet the towering trees stood unmoved—ancient pillars rooted deep in the soil. Or it could also be said that the tortoise might have also been avoiding harming those trees.
Neither Zuh Qil nor the others dared use the trees for footing. It seems as though their sprawling roots burrowed deep, but their massive trunks and fragile branches hindered movement. A branch snapping or being hindered by a foliage of leaves could mean death in this brutal fight.
"Uh… what now?" Yang Zhai muttered, perched on a tree limb beside Zuh Qil.
"Forget it. Let's move. Watch the ground—and the last Rank 6." With a sharp nod, Yang Zhai vanished into the shadows of the canopy.
Silent as the moonlight, Zuh Qil followed.
They disappeared into the dark forest, moving swiftly over boulders and cracked rocks. The moonlight didn't reach far enough to witness their escape.
Only forty minutes remained before Yang Zhai's aura would become visible again, and just three hours before the sun would rise.
Without wasting a moment, Yang Zhai decided to use this time to escape rather than search for the remaining rank 6 cultivator.
As for the rank 7 cultivator, he had already moved far from their original location, far away from their battlefield by the ruthless pursuit of the sleeping tortoise. Yang Zhai, on the other hand, fled in the opposite direction.
After forty minutes, the power of the green lines that concealed Yang Zhai's presence faded, making it visible once more. He quickly deactivated and reactivated them to maintain his concealment.
Meanwhile, the rank 7 cultivator skillfully dodged the vines and avoided falling into the cracks spreading across the ground. The terrain ahead was becoming more stable, signaling he was nearing the edge of the tortoise's attack range.
"If I can just keep dodging a little longer, I can get out of this forest," he thought, relaxing slightly—only to slip and lose his balance.
Suddenly, a vine shot up from beneath him, passing right in front of his eyes. His eyes widened in surprise as more vines appeared, blocking his path.
"What was that? Did the beast change its tactics? If I hadn't slipped, would I have been caught by these vines? But beasts aren't supposed to be intelligent. That's why I've survived this long. And this was also not the limit of its attack range. Here I thought I was already about to escape. I never truly understood rank 8."
Unlike before, when the beast's attacks were random or direct but often missed, this time the vines were clearly timed to strike exactly where he was. The sleeping tortoise was adapting.
The rank 7 cultivator launched himself into the air, desperate to break free once more. But the moment he moved, vines erupted from every direction, converging with ruthless speed. Caught mid-flight, he had no time to dodge or react to the sudden assault.
The first vine pierced his right leg, shattering his chance to escape. Almost immediately, a second vine struck his other leg. Then, as if the forest itself had come alive to punish him, countless vines pierced his body, holding him suspended in midair like a marionette trapped by invisible strings.
"I… I wish… at least one of us… manages to get out… he…" His voice faltered, the sentence dying on his lips as the light faded from his eyes. Blood seeped from his seven orifices, staining his body in a grim testament to his struggle.
His eyes burned an intense red—whether from the blood, rage, or sheer terror, it was impossible to tell.
Just as the rank 7 cultivator closed his eyes, Yang Zhai managed to escape the dense, ominous forest. The faint light of dawn had yet to break, leaving the world cloaked in darkness. Glancing back, he saw only an endless stretch of shadowy trees, a silent reminder of the peril he had just fled.
Meanwhile, hidden within the forest's depths, a rank 6 cultivator was cautiously making his escape. He moved stealthily, relying solely on his physical strength rather than any cultivation techniques. This deliberate choice was crucial; using cultivation methods would emit aura—an energy signature detectable by others, even those without advanced sensing methods. By suppressing his aura, he minimized the risk of being tracked or ambushed.
"This was a trap," he thought grimly. "We were set up. I must return quickly and inform Master Mu about what happened. I just hope Brother Boum managed to escape."
But the rank 6 cultivator did not realize that merely hiding his aura would not save him from the fate awaiting him.
All the others had already fallen—only he remained. Now, the Sleeping Tortoise, a formidable and sinister presence, shifted its attention toward him.
An eerie sensation crawled up his spine, a chilling warning that something was terribly wrong. Suddenly, his movement ceased abruptly. His eyes darted downward in terror, only to find a thick vine coiling tightly around his ankle, creeping upward with relentless speed.
Frantically, he struck at the vine, hoping to break free. But his efforts only summoned more doom—four additional vines erupted from the earth, snaking around his other limbs and tightening mercilessly around his neck.
His heart pounded with dread as he realized the hopelessness of his situation. His eyes, once fierce with determination, now reflected despair. Yet, even as death loomed, his voice rang out in a desperate scream:
"RUN AWAY!!!!! We can't defeat them without more reinforcements!!!"
His warning echoed through the forest, but it was a voice lost to the void. No living soul heard it. The forest remained silent, the darkness swallowing his cries whole.
The corpses of his fallen comrades lay motionless, oblivious to the final moments of their last hope. Not even Yang Zhai, who had escaped moments before, could hear the desperate plea.
In the shadowed depths of the forest, the cultivator perished alone—his death unmarked, unnoticed, and unavenged. Not even the moonlight bore witness to his final breath.
Unaware of the desperate plea echoing silently behind him, Yang Zhai ran with all his might. Though he had managed to leave the forest's immediate grasp, the terrifying reach of the Sleeping Tortoise still haunted him. The very ground beneath was fracturing and splitting open, jagged cracks tearing through the earth like endless abysses, severely limiting his movement and threatening to swallow him whole.
He was utterly alone now. Zuh Qil had vanished into the mysterious Last One ring, leaving Yang Zhai without any backup.
Above, the moon waned, its pale light fading as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon. Yang Zhai felt the power in his orange lines ebbing away, their fiery energy dimming with the dawn.
"Not good," he muttered grimly. "Even though my other lines will remain active, and my defense strengthened by the blue lines, my overall strength will drop to that of a mere rank 5 cultivator. I won't be able to cross this terrain then. I'd be an easy target for it. I need to wait until the moon rises again."
With no time to waste, Yang Zhai activated the seal ring strapped to his finger. Slowly, a shimmering gate began to manifest in the air before him, its edges flickering like liquid light.
While waiting for the gate to fully open, he kept running in tight circles, carefully avoiding the yawning cracks that threatened to consume him. Each step was calculated, every breath measured, as he balanced himself.
Finally, the gate stabilized, its portal glowing steadily. Without hesitation, Yang Zhai leapt into it. The gate sealed shut behind him with a soft, echoing hum, cutting him off from the deadly forest and the nightmare that lurked within.
!|!*****!*****!|!
Author's Note: The Mantora Mountain arc was going to have around forty chapters. The observation was going to have around thirty chapters. The awakening chapters of the unique torus alone were going to take five chapters. Be notified that in those chapters, Yang Zhai was going to have no role, meaning for a whole month. However, considering you guys, I cut short these chapters to only a few. I still tried my best to encompass as much as I could. No need to thank me.