The moment Li Yao passed beyond the familiar, sect-patrolled trails, the forest changed. The air grew thick and heavy, the cacophony of insects and distant beasts fading into an oppressive, watchful silence. The trees were ancient, their gnarled branches forming a canopy so dense that perpetual twilight reigned on the forest floor. This was no longer a resource ground; it was a domain, and he was an intruder.
He unrolled Mei's map. It was a masterpiece of practical cartography, drawn on tanned spirit-beast hide. The "safe route" was indeed marked in a faded red ochre, not a straight line, but a winding path that snaked between territorial markers of powerful beasts, avoided patches of soul-numbing "Ghost-Moss," and crossed rivers at points where the water was shallow and the current calm. It was a path built on generations of spilled blood and hard-won knowledge.
He trusted it implicitly, but he also trusted the System.
"Activating Enhanced Environmental Scan. Layering spiritual perception over cartographic data."
His vision overlayed with the System's analysis. He could see the faint, pulsing auras of slumbering Earth-Shatter Bears in their dens, the shimmering, predatory intelligence of a pack of Shadow-Stalker Vipers draped in the high branches, the insidious, mind-altering pollen drifting from a grove of "Weeping Widow" trees just off the path. The map was correct, but the System provided the real-time, living context.
He moved with a silence that would have made Mei nod in approval. The [Shadow-Water Tread] was perfected here, his feet making no sound on the loam, his body flowing around obstacles without a whisper of displaced air. He was a phantom, a part of the forest's dark tapestry.
The journey was not a sprint, but a grueling marathon of constant vigilance. He slept in short, fitful bursts high in the branches, wrapped in a cloak woven from "Null-Leaves" that masked his spiritual signature. He ate concentrated nutrient pastes he had synthesized, avoiding fires and the scent of cooking food. He fought only when absolutely necessary, and then, with brutal, overwhelming efficiency.
A "Jade-Toothed Panther," a Low Core Formation beast, ambushed him from a thicket. Instead of a drawn-out battle, Li Yao used a technique the System had designed for this exact purpose: [Gravitational Anchor]. He focused his Stellar Core's dense energy, creating a localized point of intense gravity directly on the beast's spine. There was a sickening crunch, and the panther collapsed, paralyzed. Li Yao ended its life with a swift, precise thrust of Qi to its brain, then harvested its fangs and heart without sentiment. Resources were resources.
Days blurred into a week, then two. The terrain grew more treacherous. The very ground seemed alive, with carnivorous plants that snapped at his ankles and rivers that flowed with acidic, spiritual-corrupting water. The map became his bible, the System his prophet.
He felt his Core strengthening through sheer attrition. The constant, low-level threat, the need for perfect energy control, the raw, untamed Qi of the deep forest—it was a tempering process. He was still in the Early Stage, but his foundation was becoming unshakable.
Finally, after three weeks of relentless travel, he reached the edge of the area marked on Mei's map. The red line stopped at the base of a colossal, black basalt cliff. Scrawled in her grandfather's hand were the words: "Here, the world breathes wrong. The hunter's path ends. The fool's begins."
Li Yao looked up. The cliff face was scarred with deep fissures. From one of the largest, a faint, silvery light pulsed in a slow, rhythmic cadence. The air did indeed taste of broken mirrors—a sharp, metallic tang that grated on the soul. This was the periphery of the spatial anomaly.
The Hundred-Year Pulse.
According to the System's calculation, the peak of the pulse, when the spatial energies were most active and the Void-Whispering Orchid was most likely to bloom, was in four days.
He had to get closer.
The climb was a trial in itself. The rock was unnaturally smooth in places, jagged in others, and occasionally, a section would simply... waver, as if it weren't entirely there. He had to use his Qi to adhere to the stone, his senses screaming at the unreality of his surroundings.
He found a ledge about halfway up, overlooking the fissure. It would be his base. He spent the next three days in a state of hyper-aware meditation, acclimating to the spatial distortions. He felt his core resonate strangely, the stellar energy within it humming in response to the ripples in reality. The System recorded everything, building a model of the anomaly's energy signature.
On the dawn of the fourth day, the pulse began.
It started as a low hum that vibrated in his teeth. The silvery light from the fissure brightened, casting long, shifting shadows that didn't obey the normal laws of light. The air shimmered, and for brief moments, he could see glimpses of other places—a star-filled void, a desert of black sand, a city of crystal spires. They were phantoms, reflections cast by the bending of space.
This was the most dangerous time. Spatial rifts could open and close at random, shearing through anything in their path. The local demonic beasts, driven mad by the energy, would be on the move.
"Spatial instability critical. Anomaly peak in T-minus 3 hours. Probability of Void-Whispering Orchid manifestation: 87%. Probability of lethal spatial event: 34%."
He had to go in.
Taking a deep breath, Li Yao began the final ascent towards the fissure. The world around him was a kaleidoscope of wrongness. Gravity shifted, pulling him sideways one moment, upwards the next. Sounds were distorted, echoes coming from before the sound itself.
He saw it then, nestled in a cradle of roots at the very mouth of the fissure.
The Void-Whispering Orchid.
It was both beautiful and terrifying. Its petals were the color of a starless midnight, but they swirled with faint, silver nebulae. It had no stem, but seemed to grow directly from a tiny, stable fold in space itself. It emitted no scent, but a profound silence, a hole in the world's noise.
As he reached for it, a spatial ripple, sharper than the others, lashed out from the fissure. It wasn't aimed at him, but it passed directly through the space he was about to occupy.
"EVASIVE MANEUVER!"
He threw himself sideways, but the laws of physics were mere suggestions here. The ripple clipped his left arm.
There was no pain. There was... absence. A section of his sleeve, and a chunk of his flesh and bone from elbow to wrist, simply ceased to exist. Vanished, as if they had never been.
He stared, stunned, at the perfectly smooth, bloodless stump. The shock was so absolute it bypassed pain.
"Critical injury. Spatial amputation. Initiating emergency core-energy containment and regenerative override."
His Stellar Core flared, pumping immense energy to seal the wound, preventing spiritual dispersion. The regeneration of the Perfection Essence Gathering Realm was useless; you couldn't regenerate what was fundamentally gone.
He had failed. The cost was a limb.
But as he looked back at the orchid, still glowing serenely in its spatial cradle, he saw his chance. The violent ripple had destabilized the space around the flower. For a brief moment, the fold it grew from was exposed.
Forgetting the missing arm, fueled by a cold, relentless fury, he lunged. His right hand shot out, not towards the flower, but towards the spatial fold itself. He poured his will and his Qi into it, not to grab, but to stabilize, using the principles the System had been drilling into him for months.
He wasn't picking a flower. He was performing micro-surgery on reality.
His fingers brushed the edge of the fold. Agony, not physical but spiritual, lanced through him. It felt like his soul was being unraveled. But he held on, his Core burning like a supernova, imposing order on the chaos.
With a final, silent effort, he gently plucked the entire spatial fold containing the orchid.
It came free, resting in his palm. The world around the fissue shuddered and the violent pulsing began to subside, the anomaly exhausted.
He collapsed onto the ledge, clutching the flower in his one remaining hand. He had done it. He had paid a terrible price, but he had won.
"Objective 'Acquire Void-Whispering Orchid' achieved. Host's condition: Critical. Lifespan decay accelerated due to spiritual trauma. Immediate treatment and integration of the orchid is required to mitigate losses."
Li Yao looked at the starry blossom in his hand, then at the empty space where his left arm used to be. He had gambled with the laws of the universe, and he had both won and lost. The path to comprehending the Law Path was now open, but the price of admission was written on his body, a permanent reminder that the heavens did not give their secrets lightly. The slow, meticulous burn had just become a desperate, bloody sprint.