At the rear mountain of Black Blood Stockade, deep in the central region of the "Blood Forest."
The vegetation here was nothing like the outer perimeter. Every tree's bark displayed an unsettling dark-red hue.
If you cut into one with a blade, what oozed out wasn't sap—it was resin as thick and crimson as blood.
The air here was perpetually saturated with a sickly-sweet stench of gore, mingled with the smell of rotting leaves. Breathing it in was enough to turn the stomach.
The Third Elite Squad maintained standard combat formation as they moved swiftly through the woods.
At the front walked Zhao Yuze, a branch family youth. He gripped a sharpened wooden stick, nervously poking at the undergrowth ahead.
Every few steps, he glanced back over his shoulder, terrified of being abandoned as a sacrificial pawn.
In the center of the formation, Lin Feng directed operations. He wore gleaming silver armor, flanked by two trusted subordinates on either side.
Lin Wan'er followed close behind, clutching a healing Gu—a Wood Essence Gu—that emitted a faint green glow. Her expression was tense.
And at the very rear was Lin Mu.
He carried a massive marching pack nearly half his height, stuffed with tents, rations, and the squad's backup medical supplies. The whole thing weighed close to a hundred jin.
"Huff... huff..."
Lin Mu panted heavily, his footsteps labored. He looked every bit the part of an overburdened pack mule.
Lin Feng glanced back at him, a flash of contempt in his eyes.
Typical branch family stock—some brute strength, but no endurance. Only half a day in and he's already struggling.
What Lin Feng didn't know was that every one of Lin Mu's breaths followed a precise, deliberate rhythm.
That hundred-jin load wasn't a burden to him—it was the perfect tool for tempering his physical strength.
The Red Mud Gu vibrated faintly within his aperture, sending threads of blood-energy cycling through his meridians, continuously reinforcing his muscle fibers.
More importantly, Lin Mu's awareness had already spread outward.
Deep in his aperture, the Blood Scent Gu operated silently. Its invisible olfactory tendrils extended hundreds of meters—infinitely more sensitive than Zhao Yuze, that "blind" vanguard who relied on nothing but his own eyes.
"Still nothing?"
After another hour of searching, Lin Feng was losing patience.
He activated a Wood Ear Gu stuck behind his ear, attempting to pick up movement in the surroundings.
But this reconnaissance Gu was severely hampered by the cacophony of the forest—aside from wind and insect sounds, it detected nothing.
After half a day of traversal, all they'd found were a few resource points picked clean.
The pits where Rank 1 Blood Lingzhi once grew were empty. Beside them lay several stripped corpses of outer-ring family disciples, their deaths gruesome.
"Judging by the wounds, the enemy operates in three-man squads. They favor bone-spear throws and earth-tunneling techniques. Extremely mobile."
Lin Feng crouched beside a corpse, his face dark. "They're slippery as eels—grab what they can and run. They never engage our main forces head-on."
He was growing irritated.
His lavish loadout—reconnaissance, offense, healing, all covered—was meant for hard battles and harvesting war merits. Not for playing corpse-collection duty.
At this rate, even if they held their positions, there'd be no achievements to show for it.
Lin Mu stood at the rear, silently observing his surroundings.
He noticed several inconspicuous broken branches—traces left by the enemy's retreat.
The breaks were uniform, the direction clear. This wasn't the work of bandits. This was trained, professional military discipline.
"White Bone Stockade is leading us by the nose on purpose."
Lin Mu made his assessment but chose to keep quiet, continuing to play the mute.
Speaking up would only invite trouble—especially when Lin Feng was in a foul mood.
Just as Lin Feng grew restless and prepared to order an expanded search perimeter—
Whoosh—BANG!
A red signal flare suddenly shot up from the northern sky, exploding into a brilliant crimson cloud above the gloomy Blood Forest.
That was another squad's distress signal!
Immediately after, the Sound Transmission Gu at Lin Feng's waist vibrated, delivering a scout's urgent, garbled voice:
"First Squad encountered White Bone Stockade's main force in the upper zone... Enemy carrying large quantities of looted supplies... Moving slowly... Requesting support..."
Lin Feng's eyes lit up instantly.
Rather than eating dust in an empty middle zone, why not reinforce the upper zone?
If they could intercept this enemy force "carrying large quantities of supplies," that would be a massive achievement!
"This is our chance!"
Lin Feng drew his longsword in one swift motion, his voice betraying barely contained excitement:
"Abandon the middle-zone patrol! Full speed to Black Wind Valley, three miles north!"
"That's the only retreat route from the upper zone! Zhao Yuze, pick up the pace! Stop dawdling!"
The squad instantly accelerated.
Lin Mu frowned slightly.
If White Bone Stockade's strategy was "high-mobility harassment," why would they be slowed down by "carrying supplies"?
It didn't add up. On a battlefield, a scout squad burdened with loot would typically dump everything at the first opportunity and flee.
"Unless... it's bait."
A chill ran through Lin Mu, but he didn't voice the warning. Pouring cold water on the plan at this moment would only make Lin Feng think he was a coward.
He simply reached behind him, quietly loosening a slip-knot on his marching pack.
If danger struck, one quick shake and the hundred-jin burden would drop away instantly.
The march.
Chasing glory, Lin Feng pushed the squad at maximum speed.
Zhao Yuze was practically foaming at the mouth, stumbling and crawling. Lin Wan'er's face had gone pale, gasping for breath.
Only Lin Mu remained steady at the rear. His breathing was still heavy, but his stride never faltered—he maintained peak physical reserves.
Thirty minutes later.
They reached Black Wind Valley.
This was the junction between the middle and upper zones—a narrow stretch of terrain.
Towering blood-red rock walls rose on either side, leaving only a winding path barely wide enough for two or three people to pass through.
Silence. Dead silence.
No battle cries. No sounds of combat. Even the First Squad that had sent the distress signal was nowhere to be seen.
The air held only the overwhelming, inescapable reek of blood.
"What's going on? Where is everyone?" Lin Feng halted, scanning the surroundings with growing alarm.
At that moment, the Blood Scent Gu inside Lin Mu began trembling violently!
"This smell is wrong!"
It wasn't the stale blood of past combat. This was fresh—massive quantities—and the blood-energy was violently surging, the unmistakable signature of living people.
And it was... directly above them!
Lin Mu's head snapped up toward the towering rock walls on either side.
Almost simultaneously, a piercing bone-whistle shriek tore through the valley's silence.
BOOM! BOOM!
Several massive boulders—their surfaces bristling with jagged bone spikes—plummeted from above without warning, thundering down with devastating force to seal the squad's path both front and rear.
Turtles in a jar!
Then six figures leaped down from the cliff walls.
This was no three-man squad. No slow-moving supply convoy.
This was two elite squads from White Bone Stockade, merged into one!
At their head stood a white-haired youth, powerfully built, gripping a bone-pale spear. He looked down at the panicking Lin Feng and the others with the predatory grin of a hunter eyeing prey:
"Fools of Black Blood Stockade—you took the bait quickly!"
The trap was sprung!
"Formation! Engage!"
Lin Feng roared, activating his Gu worms, desperately trying to hold the line.
Meanwhile, at the rear of the squad, Lin Mu did not immediately draw his blade.
His shoulder gave a single shake, and the heavy marching pack crashed to the ground with a clatter.
In the same motion, he contracted his body, naturally tucking himself behind the massive supply pack.
This single move accomplished two things: it shed his burden, and it turned the pack into an improvised barricade.
Through the gaps in the pack, Lin Mu coldly observed the six murderous enemies. In his palm, the Iron Leaf Gu was coiled and ready.
"Just as I thought—besiege a point to ambush the reinforcements..."
"No playing dead this time."