In the center of the Wildlands, heaven and earth were shrouded in gray-white, and the mist seemed ready to swallow all contours. The cracked ground beneath their feet, the dried riverbed of the ancient river, appeared as wounds that had slumbered for a thousand years. The air was thick with a damp, rotting stench, making each breath labored. Ye Chenyu, Liyue Ying, Xuan Ye, and Xing Lan moved cautiously forward, each step feeling as if they were treading on unseen traps.
In the middle of the ancient river, shattered stone tablets and rusted iron chains bound a colossal being. It was the residual shadow of Wuzhiqi—the water beast's immense body was firmly restrained by shackles. Its enormous, ape-like form nearly obscured half of the Wildlands, its limbs pressing down on the land like heavy iron pillars. Nine black eyes flickered with cold light, its body twisted, scales glimmering faintly gray-white. Each subtle movement caused the earth to tremble, widening cracks in the parched soil. Ye Chenyu felt his heart struck by a hammer, his breathing ragged.
Suddenly, the chains quivered slightly, as if responding to some ancient call. Wuzhiqi's low roar echoed across the Wildlands, each sound striking the soul like tidal waves, evoking unspeakable fear. The mists began to churn, and fine water vapor rose from the riverbed like blood-red ribbons, twisting in the air and swallowing all sense of direction. Ye Chenyu felt his mind begin to scatter, visions flooding his consciousness: the Wildlands submerged in water, the sky collapsing, himself torn apart by the torrent. Deep within, he realized this fear was not merely physical—it was a pressure emanating from the very source of the world.
Liyue Ying moved forward calmly, her palm lightly touching the iron chains. Unusual light flickered in her gaze. Her bloodline resonated with the Wildlands' power, and faintly trembling runes extended from her fingers along the chains, subtly suppressing Wuzhiqi's restrained energy. The Wildlands seemed to respond to her presence; the ground trembled lightly, bones and withered grass murmuring beneath their feet, as if the land itself were testing the four. Ye Chenyu finally understood that Liyue Ying was more than a combatant—her bloodline connected her to seals and ancient relics in ways that defied comprehension.
Wuzhiqi's low roar deepened, its sound waves rippling through the Wildlands like a surging flood, vibrating the air as if even gravity itself had been altered. The four felt an immense surge of water vapor rising from the riverbed, carrying sand and the stench of decay, as if the entire Wildlands were forced to breathe. Ye Chenyu clenched his rune shard as visions grew ever more vivid: ancient rituals on the Wildlands, submerged royal cities, countless swallowed lives. Terror nearly overwhelmed him, his breaths sharp, fingertips whitening.
Xuan Ye stepped forward, deploying a rune formation to temporarily suppress the water vapor and prevent Wuzhiqi from fully breaking free. The formation flickered blue amidst the gray-white mist, stark against the surrounding light. Xing Lan stood nearby, lightly brushing the water-like vapor, her bloodline partially restraining Wuzhiqi's power, though sweat began to bead on her forehead—the Wildlands' deep presence was dangerous even for her.
Suddenly, the chains rattled faintly. The runes on the iron links resonated with Liyue Ying's bloodline, and a blue radiance spread, illuminating every bone and shadow in the Wildlands. Wuzhiqi's body gradually awakened; amid its low roars, water vapor, blood-red mist, and gray-white light swirled as though the world itself were about to be submerged in a flood. Ye Chenyu felt the earth breathe beneath him, the wind humming like ancient incantations, stirring bones and striking the mind. He nearly lost all sense of direction, the scenery twisting into an endless labyrinth.
Liyue Ying stood before the chains, her cold voice resonating deeply: "The Wildlands' power is not to be controlled by mortals. Without resonance, none can command it." She traced her hand through the air; runes spread along the chains and Wuzhiqi's body, as though heralding the activation of an ancient ritual. The gray-white mist interwove with the red vapor, and the flood-like water vapor gradually subsided, yet Wuzhiqi's gaze remained fixed on the four, as if judging them—every breath, every movement scrutinized.
Ye Chenyu took a deep breath, feeling the awe and fear he first experienced in the Wildlands surge again. Yet he understood that it was Liyue Ying's bloodline resonance that had prevented Wuzhiqi from running amok. The Wildlands seemed to remind him: every moment here was a test of life, death, and reason. He silently gritted his teeth, tightened his grip on the shard, and stepped forward. Wuzhiqi before him was no longer merely a monster—it was the embodiment of the Wildlands itself, both teacher and adversary.
The water vapor and red mist gradually subsided under the glow of the chains, yet Wuzhiqi's form still towered, an eternal presence of immense pressure. The four stood together at the edge of the dried riverbed, silently acknowledging: deeper within the Wildlands awaited something far more terrifying than Wuzhiqi—the true king of the Wildlands.