Poison God's Heritage

Chapter 875 Grassland (New Editor)

The child's eyes widened in a mix of terror and confusion before he spun on his heels and bolted, his small frame vanishing into the thick, swaying grass without a second thought.

"Survivor!" I called out, my heart pounding in my chest as adrenaline surged through my veins. Without hesitation, I launched forward, breaking into a sprint. The tall blades of grass swayed around me like waves, parting momentarily before snapping back in place, obscuring the boy's path as if the very land was trying to swallow him.

He was fast—unnaturally so. His small body moved with an agility that defied human limits, darting between patches of dense foliage like a frightened animal. I marveled at the fluidity of his movements, his legs propelling him with a speed that seemed impossible for someone his age. Every twist and turn was calculated, as if he was familiar with the terrain, weaving through it with the grace of a predator—or prey.

I couldn't help but feel an eerie sensation crawling up my spine as I followed him. The child moved as though something far worse than me was hunting him, his erratic zigzagging more reminiscent of a hare fleeing a predator than a simple escape. My breath hitched as I pushed harder, my feet pounding the ground, the grass brushing against my face and shoulders. Even without tapping into my Qi reserves, I could keep easily keep up, after all he was a mortal. I wanted to see what was going on.

Though I can simply use Qi or my internal force to stop him in an instant, I wanted to see how this Mortal run so fast. And the reason I'm not using any Qi is the lurking beasts below, the ones who lay dormant in the soil, would sense even the slightest ripple of energy. One careless mistake, one flash of Qi, and we would be at the mercy of the unseen horrors lurking beneath the surface.

"Stop!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the rustling grass like a blade. but the boy barely acknowledged me, driven by a primal fear that left no room for reason. He seemed to vanish and reappear between the tall, golden stalks, his small, desperate feet making barely a sound, yet the tension in the air was palpable. It was as if the very earth was listening, waiting, alive.

Finally, annoyed with a small burst of speed, I intercepted him mid-sprint. I cut across his path in a wide arc, skidding to a stop right in front of him. The child's eyes widened in panic, his small chest heaving as he stumbled back, trying to pivot away, but I blocked him with a swift motion.

"Why are you running?" I demanded. My voice was calm, though every fiber of my being was on edge. I couldn't shake the feeling that something far worse than this child's fear was waiting for us out here in the depths of this strange, foreign land.

The boy came to a jarring halt, panting heavily, his tiny body trembling with exertion. His eyes—wide, glossy, filled with sheer terror—met mine, and for a moment, we stood there, locked in silence. He backed away instinctively, shaking his head, his lips quivering as he tried to form words, but nothing came out. His fear was so tangible it seemed to cling to the very air between us.

I opened my mouth to speak again when he finally stammered something—words that didn't immediately register, unfamiliar and foreign, but there was something about the cadence. It wasn't a language I had heard in the Beyond, but there was a rhythm, a tone that I recognized, eerily similar to the dialect spoken in the Bastion.

The boy's scream barely registered as I pushed him behind me, my focus locked on the thrashing tendrils. "Stay behind me!" I commanded, my voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around us.

I can't have him die on me. I need him for later.

Before I could react further, the Slave launched himself into the fray with an almost primal fury. He moved like a force of nature, his body a blur of motion as he tore through the oncoming tentacles with brutal efficiency. His hands, massive and powerful, snapped the tendrils like twigs, leaving behind a trail of severed limbs.

I took a step back, cutting down any tendrils that dared slip past him.

Creeping Demise

gleamed under the dim light, its edge slicing through the monster's limbs with ease. But no matter how many we cut down, more appeared, sprouting from the earth with relentless determination.

Just when it seemed like the assault would never end, Liang Yu and the others joined the battle, moving with a precision born of countless fights together. They spread out, surrounding the creature, each of them taking down the oncoming tentacles with practiced ease.

The Slave, unyielding and unstoppable, drove his fists into the ground, his raw strength shaking the very earth beneath us. With a guttural roar, he wrenched the beast from its hiding place, lifting it out of the soil by its own thrashing limbs.

The creature—an abomination of writhing tendrils and grotesque, pulsating flesh—let out a high-pitched wail, its body twisting in agony as the Slave ripped it free from the earth. But the Slave's fury was unstoppable. With a bone-crunching sound, he tore the beast in half with his bare hands, black ichor spraying across the grass as the creature's scream died in the wind.

The battlefield fell silent.