Chapter 12 The Cultist Invasion

  Lan Chi directed the two tool monsters to transport the ore into the workshop, attempting to use the system's functions for rough processing.

  Soon, a clumsily shaped iron axe with an uneven blade was produced. Due to the workshop's lack of smelting technology, these unrefined raw iron products were not easy to use. They were not only heavy but also extremely brittle, and their actual performance was even worse than the stone tools the system had given him before.

  "Can you eat this ore and directly refine the metal?" Lan Chi asked, pointing at the cold ore.

  "No, I don't have that function," the hut replied quickly, a hint of obvious disdain in its tone. "Besides, those crappy things made in the workshop aren't as good as the axes I generate."

  As soon as it finished speaking, the hut's side wall began to writhe. An axe radiating a cold gleam slowly grew out of the wooden planks. This axe was completely pitch-black, its edge as thin as a cicada's wing. It looked like it was made of some unknown metal, but when Lan Chi pressed his fingernail against it, he could feel the unique toughness of wood.

  Lan Chi picked up this wooden axe and tried it out. In terms of both sharpness and feel, it completely outperformed those few crude iron axes beside it.

  He looked at the pile of iron ore with some regret. It seemed that in this world, basic industrial refinement was still unavoidable. He would have to find a way to exchange for smelting techniques on the trading channel.

  Or, as described in novels, find some kind of metal-devouring monster for the hut to eat, thereby gaining the evolutionary attribute of "iron integration."

  Unfortunately, the hut couldn't add new functions yet. Lan Chi glanced at the growth progress bar stuck at 56%. He would have to wait until it advanced to Tier 2 and see how things went.

  "Knock, knock, knock."

  The crisp tapping sound was particularly abrupt in the deathly still forest. Lan Chi's body instantly went rigid, a chill running down his spine.

  Was that a knock just now!?

  "Little Hut, aren't you camouflaged?" Lan Chi lowered his voice, cold sweat trickling down his temples. "What's the situation outside now? Can you see?"

  "I am camouflaged. I don't know how he found us either." The hut's voice trembled in Lan Chi's mind, carrying a hint of unprecedented terror. "Outside... it looks like a person standing there... but its hands have grown claws!"

  "Knock, knock, knock." Another three dull thuds.

  A low, magnetic voice penetrated the walls and echoed in the narrow living room: "Is anyone there? I'm lost in the forest. Could you take me in for the night?"

  Lost, my ass! Lan Chi cursed inwardly. What kind of normal person gets lost in a place like this?

  Lan Chi didn't respond. He quietly kicked awake Little Axe and Little Pickaxe on the floor, signaling the two tool monsters to prepare for battle. He himself tightly gripped the new axe, ready for anything.

  "Why aren't you saying anything? That's very rude, you know." The voice outside remained elegant, yet carried a bone-chilling coldness. "If you don't answer, I'll have to come in myself."

  As soon as the words faded, the hut's tough wooden walls began to shake violently.

  "Bam!"

  With an explosive crack, a large hole was torn in the wall by a powerful force, wood chips flying everywhere.

  Amidst the swirling dust, a tall, slender dark figure casually stepped over the debris and walked into the room.

  The visitor had brown hair and a pair of murky eyes. His hair was dry and withered, his nose bridge was high and prominent, and he appeared to be at least fifty years old. He wore a long robe, with both hands exposed: his left hand maintained a human form, but his right hand was just like a wolf's claw. His feet were bare, and the exposed skin resembled dried tree bark.

  "Huh? A human? How could an ordinary human appear here? Could he be a native here? No, the natives don't have camps. Only the gods' trial participants can build shelters." The visitor was also slightly surprised to see Lan Chi.

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  He narrowed those murky eyes and sized up the young man before him—seventeen or eighteen years old at most, slender in build, with fair, warm-toned skin that was smooth and firm, not like someone surviving in the wilderness. His features were clean and delicate, especially his eyes, which were so dark they gleamed.

  The other party stared at him warily. His gaze lacked the brutishness or panic of ordinary trial participants, instead revealing a calmness and scrutiny that belied his age.

  This temperament... it was like a pampered young noble from some major power who had nonetheless seen the world. But how could such a person appear alone in a place like this?

  Listening to his muttering, Lan Chi felt fine beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.

  "Hey, which faction are you from?" The man suddenly took an interest in Lan Chi. A weakling with no class qualifications who had still become a trial participant—in his eyes, this must be some stray member of a major power. Capture him, and he might be able to extort considerable benefits.

  "Let me see... what the hell are these two things?" The man swept his gaze across the room and spotted the two tool monsters. He was stunned again. Why did the forms of these two monsters align so closely with his own religion?

  Uncertainly, he assessed the situation before him and raised his hand, releasing a translucent sphere. The sphere rapidly expanded in the air, scanning everything inside the room. Lan Chi felt a chill run down his spine, as if some sinister thing had locked its gaze onto him.

  The man's light screen popped up, but the result displayed was "Unknown Race."

  "Unknown? You're a stowaway! I'll offer you to my Lord—He will surely like you."

  As soon as the words left his mouth, his wolf-claw right hand suddenly elongated, sweeping through the air with a foul wind, directly aiming for Lan Chi's throat.

  "Damn it!" Lan Chi clumsily rolled to the side, avoiding a fatal blow, but his left arm was still slashed by the sharp claws, flesh and skin tearing open.

  Ignoring the searing pain, he gritted his teeth and swung his axe in counterattack.

  "Clang!"

  A sharp sound rang out. The axe blade was repelled by a tremendous recoil force, nearly flying out of his hand. A tiny notch had been chipped into the blade.

  "You damn bug!" The man, now thoroughly enraged, kicked Lan Chi, sending him flying.

  Just then, the Axe Monster and Pickaxe Monster leaped up, launching a surprise attack from both sides. Simultaneously, the floor writhed violently as several thorned vines burst through and entangled the man's feet.

  "Get lost!" The man growled low, precisely grabbing the two tool monsters with his left and right hands and smashing their heads together. With the dull thud of splintering wood, the two tool monsters instantly went limp and collapsed.

  "Swish, swish, swish—!"

  The hut's wind blades came one after another. More than a dozen cyan blades struck the man, instantly tearing his flesh open.

  The man tore off the tattered robe hanging on him, revealing a nauseating bluish-gray body.

  The wounds writhed and quickly scabbed over. Transforming into a creature with a human face and a wolf's body, the man endured the barrage of wind blades, tore through the vines binding his feet, and charged at Lan Chi.

  Lan Chi fought back desperately, but he couldn't match that inhuman speed.

  "Thud!"

  The man's wolf claw swept across. Lan Chi couldn't dodge in time. His left arm was torn off at the root, blood spraying like a fountain across the floor. He screamed and fell, pinned heavily to the ground by the man's foot pressing on his chest.

  The man retrieved a book with an eerie cover from his belt. He opened it, his voice devout and fervent: "Oh, my great Lord, please accept this stray soul. With flesh as kindling, with bones as sacrifice, I offer it to my great..."

  Lan Chi stared fixedly at the book. It felt as though the writhing pages contained countless wailing faces. An indescribably horrifying pressure threatened to shatter his very soul.

  He couldn't let him finish!

  With the desperate ferocity of a cornered beast, Lan Chi gripped the ankle pressing down on his chest with his remaining right hand. Gathering every shred of mental energy left in his body, he poured it all without reservation into the man's body.

  "This... this is the Lord's power? No, it's not! You're an abomination!" The man shrieked in terror, trying to break free, but that power, like a bursting dam, instantly overwhelmed his entire defense system.

  "Aaaaaaah!"

  The man's body began to swell and twist irregularly. The sound of bones shattering filled the air. Countless flesh buds seemed to writhe violently beneath his skin.

  Finally, he transformed into a writhing mountain of flesh. Only two dull eyeballs remained embedded in the pile of rotting meat.

  "Plop."

  The eerie book fell to the ground, emitting wisps of black mist. Its terrifying pressure suppressed any thought of resistance, crushing the soul into the dust, compelling nothing but submission.

  Lan Chi propped up his broken body, staring fixedly at the book. He knew this was the root of the disaster; it had to be dealt with. Trembling, he raised his right hand and placed it on the book's cover. Enduring the swelling pain in his head, he forcibly unleashed his mental energy, pouring it all into the book.

  The mental energy and the book's power clashed violently. Waves of energy erupted within the room, like gods and demons locked in battle. Finally, the black mist dissipated from the book, and it was transformed into an entirely new form.

  Having done all this, Lan Chi was completely drained. His vision darkened, and he collapsed into a pool of blood.

  ....................

  Far away, in the depths of space.

  At the center of a chaotic nebula, several colossal, indescribable existences gathered together, engaged in an eternal communion.

  One of them, a being murmuring in low tones, paused slightly. It had sensed that in some insignificant testing ground, a believer bearing Its mark had vanished. The manner of death was strange. It had even detected a flicker of something that felt like a "kin," but it quickly disappeared.

  "What's wrong? Continue..." Another indescribable existence beside It, covered in countless compound eyes, urged impatiently.

  That being withdrew Its perception, not paying it much mind. After all, Its followers numbered in the tens of millions. A stray ant or two being crushed by something even stranger was hardly worth Its attention.

  It resumed its low murmur, a sound that tore through the void itself.