Chapter 89: Unease

In the end, there was nothing she could do.

Yu Yan’s consciousness stirred, and the “Glowing Fire Moth” she had conjured swiftly transformed into one of the countless long whips made of grass blades. It appeared utterly ordinary, indistinguishable from the others. Deprived of a target, all the grass whips froze together in midair, bewildered.

Where had that troublesome “Glowing Fire Moth” gone?

After stealing so many phantom masks from them, it had vanished without a trace. The swarm of Glowing Fire Moths fluttering among the petals of the Ghost Orchid remained oblivious to the brief conflict that had just occurred. They continued their diligent labor, gathering nectar from the Ghost Orchid, causing the newly condensed phantom masks to drop one after another.

Unable to find the audacious thief, the Soul-Feeding Grass quickly shifted its attention when struck by the falling masks. Before long, it resumed absorbing this new wave of heaven-sent delicacies.

In the tranquil grove, shadows danced in the darkness.

Countless Glowing Fire Moths flitted through the air, their wings and the luminous white and pink petals of the Ghost Orchid creating a surreal beauty against the absolute blackness. The crystalline phantom masks, radiating a faint, pulsing glow, rained down like stars. Below, the sea of Soul-Feeding Grass waved lazily, welcoming these gifts from above.

Yu Yan hovered quietly three meters above the ground, unwilling to dispel her wind-walking spell lest she disturb the grass below, and equally hesitant to treat her wounds. Fear lingered in her heart. Fortunately, none of the attacking Soul-Feeding Grass had reached the Earth rank. If they had, her illusion magic would have been powerless against them.

Under such an assault, she would have suffered much more than mere lashes and minor pain.

Yet despite her lingering fear, she felt no regret. Essence of soul energy was rare and precious; who could say if she’d ever have another chance to obtain it after today? Besides, she was not entirely defenseless—if pushed to the brink, she still had a few sixth-grade Fire Rhinoceros Horns in her Illusion Lotus space, and even higher-grade ones saved for emergencies.

It would be a shame to use them as expendable items, but in a life-or-death moment, such worries were irrelevant.

Yu Yan bared her teeth in a grimace. Her transparent disposable raincoat wrapped tightly around her wounded body—a precaution to prevent blood from dripping. Illusion magic was not omnipotent; should her blood fall onto the Soul-Feeding Grass below, her location would be revealed in an instant.

She waited a long while, ensuring the Soul-Feeding Grass had forgotten what had transpired.

Yu Yan carefully transformed herself once more into the guise of a Glowing Fire Moth and flew toward the edge of the grove.

This time, she dared not snatch the phantom masks falling from the sky. If any mask drifted her way, she would avoid it; having once been caught stealing, she knew these Soul-Feeding Grass were not fools. Should they detect any anomaly above, she would surely endure another round of lashes, fiercer and faster than before, and from even more whips.

Yu Yan had no desire to invite further pain.

Though the phantom masks were alluring, she knew they originated from the “Glowing Soul-Devouring Sea.” If her strength grew, she could return to collect them later. There was no need to risk her life now for a treasure.

Strangely, as she thought this, Yu Yan completely forgot that not long ago she had been the very embodiment of reckless greed!

…

“Hui—Hui, do you think we’ve finally lost those things?” Yu Rui asked anxiously, shrinking behind Lou Yuhui as he peered nervously back along the path they’d come.

Their group of more than ten had escaped the pursuit of the Iron Porcupine Beast, only to be attacked by a terrifying insect. The bugs were elusive, and their bites caused excruciating pain. Poor Yu Rui had been bitten twice on the leg, the agony so intense it felt as if his very soul were being torn apart, leaving him fearful and timid.

Lou Yuhui did not answer, focusing instead on calming his breath.

Sweat-soaked strands of hair clung to his face, the sticky sensation making him uncomfortable enough to shrink his neck. The earlier battle had drained nearly all his internal energy, and carrying another person made the burden heavier still.

He glanced at Yu Lei beside him.

Initially, rescuing Yu Wan had been a matter of impulsive justice. Later, when his strength flagged, he truly considered abandoning her. After all, whose life was more important than his own? Moreover, carrying Yu Wan was a significant hindrance—not only exhausting his stamina, but also limiting his ability to fight at full strength.

Why hadn’t he let her go?

First, the unconscious Yu Wan clung desperately to his neck, impossible to pry free. It was as if she knew she would be abandoned; when conscious, she could rely on sheer willpower to urge them, “Go on without me, don’t worry about me.” But once her mind faded, she was left only with the instinct to survive, using all her strength to grasp this lifeline.

Lou Yuhui might have wanted to discard her, but he couldn’t bring himself to be so ruthless. Unless he hardened his heart enough to sever her arms, there was no way to break free or leave her behind.

The second reason was Yu Lei.

Lou Yuhui realized that among their group, Yu Lei was an odd presence. Not the strongest, nor the most skilled, nor the oldest, and yet Yu Rui, Yu Wei, and even Lou himself sometimes deferred to his instructions.

Yu Lei possessed a mysterious intuition, able to find hope in the midst of despair at critical moments.

For example, during their recent encounter with the Iron Porcupine Beast, had Yu Lei not guided them through twists and turns, Lou Yuhui doubted they could have escaped its encirclement.

Survival in this terrifying dungeon depended on Yu Lei. This was a truth Lou Yuhui had come to understand after several brushes with death.

Moreover, Yu Lei and Yu Wan shared a deep sibling bond. If Yu Wan were to die, Yu Lei would be deeply affected. Who could say if his uncanny intuition would still function? For all these reasons, Lou Yuhui found himself trapped in his current predicament—his stamina nearly gone, his internal energy almost depleted. Unable to walk while carrying Yu Wan, he could only force himself onward. Thankfully, Yu Lei was considerate, lifting Yu Wan whenever he regained some strength, easing Lou’s burden. Otherwise, Lou Yuhui might have cursed aloud.

“Hui, just hold on a bit longer. For some reason, those bugs haven’t followed us,” Yu Lei said. “If we find a flat spot, we can rest and eat for a while.”

Despite his words, Yu Lei felt uneasy. This forest was too quiet—uncannily so. No saber-toothed tigers, no Iron Porcupine Beasts, no soul-rending insects. Only silence, an overwhelming silence! Like a monstrous maw in the darkness, waiting for prey to offer itself.

He shuddered at the suspicion—greedy, bloodthirsty eyes watched them coldly.

No, it couldn’t be.

Even an S-class dungeon couldn’t be utterly without hope.

Their village had sent twenty-eight people, with Lou Yuhui joining en route, making twenty-nine in all. Now, more than twenty had fallen. Including the half-dead Yu Wan on Lou’s back, only seven remained…