The corpse of the Gloomfang Bear was a stark, bloody monument to his own stupidity. Lin Ke didn't linger. He recalled the bruised but victorious Titan Vole into the quiet, restorative space of his Soul Pact, flooding their mental link with a wordless apology that was received with a wave of unwavering loyalty. The guilt still gnawed at him. That had been too close. One more mistake like that, born from by-the-book arrogance, and they'd be just another pile of bones decorating the forest floor.
"Okay, new rule," he whispered to the oppressive silence, his voice tight. "We assume everything is a trap. Everything."
He started moving again, but his entire methodology had changed. He was no longer a confident professional clearing a mission zone; he was an intruder in a hostile, thinking territory. Every step was a calculation. He moved in a low crouch, his senses pushed to their absolute limit, while the Gene Editor in his mind worked overtime, constantly scanning the periphery, analyzing the very composition of the ground beneath his feet, looking for tell-tale signs of disturbance.
The woods seemed to conspire against him. The ever-present, low-frequency buzzing of the insects intensified, a maddening thrum that made it impossible to rely on his hearing. The weeping trees grew closer together, their tangled branches snagging at his clothes like skeletal fingers. He was beginning to truly, deeply hate this place.
The journey of a mere three kilometers stretched into a grueling three-hour ordeal. Along the way, he found more evidence of the alpha's power: a massive boar torn completely in half, its carcass already being consumed by the corrupted moss; an entire fifty-meter section of the forest flattened, ancient trees snapped like twigs. Whatever he was hunting possessed a terrifying, explosive strength.
Finally, the terrain began to change. The ground became soft and marshy, and the cloying, sweet smell of decay intensified tenfold. He had arrived.
He found a vantage point on a small, rocky hillock overlooking the area, concealing himself within a dense thicket of ferns. Below him lay the Gloomfang Mire. It was a ghastly sight. A stagnant, black-water swamp festered at the heart of the woods, dotted with twisted, skeletal trees. A shimmering, oily haze of corrupt energy hung low over the water, distorting the air like heat shimmer on asphalt. The buzzing was loudest here, a physical presence that vibrated in his teeth.
The Gene Editor's readings were a chaotic storm of red alerts. This was the source. He lay there, motionless, for over an hour, just watching. He knew better than to charge in. Patience was his only real weapon now.
And then, he saw it.
It rose from the center of the swamp, not like a creature emerging from water, but like the swamp itself taking form. Lin Ke's breath caught in his chest, his scientific mind struggling to categorize the abomination. It was massive, the size of a small house, a grotesque amalgamation of blackened, corrupted wood, writhing vines, and pulsating fungal sacs. It moved on multiple, insect-like legs of sharpened, petrified timber, and in the center of its churning torso was a single, colossal, baleful purple eye that surveyed its domain with a slow, ancient intelligence. This wasn't just an alpha. This was the corrupted heart and soul of the Weeping Woods.
The Editor scrambled to create a classification for the unknown entity: High-Tier C-Rank Corrupted Entity. Suggested Classification: 'Corrupted Grove-Heart'. High probability of area-of-effect corruption, plant manipulation, and high-level regeneration.
The Grove-Heart paid him no mind. It extended a vine-like tendril, carefully nurturing its tainted environment. This confirmed Lin Ke's worst fears. This was a sentient creature, a master of its territory. A direct assault was suicide. There had to be a weakness. There was always a weakness. He pushed the Gene Editor to its limits, trying to cut through the energy interference, scanning the Grove-Heart from every angle.
For hours, he watched, analyzed, and waited. He watched it tend to its mire. He watched it release slow, pulsing waves of corrupt energy that made the very air shimmer. And it was during one of these pulses that he finally saw it.
As the Grove-Heart convulsed to release a wave of energy, the tangled mass of roots in its chest parted for a fraction of a second. Deep within, nestled behind layers of corrupted wood, was a pulsating, crystalline core. It was the size of his head, glowing with a purple light so intense it was almost black. The creature's heart. Its nexus. A brilliant white "VULNERABLE" tag flared in his vision for a split second before vanishing. Exposure window: Approximately 0.9 seconds.
There it was. A single, tiny chink in the armor of a walking nightmare. Attacking it would mean weathering one of its energy waves at close range and striking with absolute, pinpoint precision. The margin for error was non-existent.
He felt a familiar, terrifying thrill run through him. A plan, born of desperation and insane audacity, began to form. It was a terrible, stupid plan. It would probably get him killed. But it was the only plan he had.
He slowly, silently, backed away from his observation post. He found a secure hiding spot and released the Titan Vole from his Soul Pact. His partner emerged, fully rested and restored. It looked at him, sensing the new, sharp tension in its master. Lin Ke began to outline the strategy through their mental link, a complex dance of timing, positioning, and a single, all-or-nothing strike.
The final battle was at hand. He took a deep, shaky breath, the heavy, sweet air of the Weeping Woods filling his lungs. Time to go fight a god-damn haunted forest.