Dingfeng Slope was perpetually shrouded in fog, and it only grew thicker the deeper one went.
Chu Fan had entered from the mouth of the slope. After walking less than seventy yards, the fog was so thick he could barely see his hand in front of his face.
At that moment, Chu Fan did not notice a partridge perched on a withered tree not far from him, its gaze fixed on his back.
"Big Brother, what the hell is this place? Are there really priceless treasures here like you said?"
A sudden voice rang out about forty yards ahead of Chu Fan.
Chu Fan held his breath. He hadn’t expected anyone else to still be after the treasures of Dingfeng Slope.
"Of course! If I hadn’t confirmed it, you think I’d be crazy enough to come to this shithole in this heat? And that’s not even mentioning the Storage Rings and weapons left behind by Cultivation Experts. Rumor has it that the Fierce Beast might have reached Divine Level Combat Power. Even a single drop of its blood or a piece of its finger bone could change our very bodies."
As the man finished speaking, a series of gasps rang out.
From the sounds, Chu Fan judged there were roughly seven or eight people in the group.
"Don’t worry. We’ll head in another hundred feet. If we see something good, we’ll take it. If we still see nothing after a hundred feet, we’ll turn back. I won’t gamble with my brothers’ lives."
After that, their voices gradually faded into the distance. Chu Fan followed close behind, occasionally hearing their hopeful words or playful laughter.
From their conversation, Chu Fan could guess that they were definitely not disciples from any of the Six Sects and Eight Gates. They were certainly Cultivators, however—probably the legendary Independent Cultivators, bound together by a sense of brotherhood.
"AHH—"
Before long, a hysterical scream pierced the air, sending a chill down the spine of even Chu Fan, who was trailing a few dozen yards behind them.
"Second Brother, what happened?"
"B-B-Big Brother, th-that... skel-skeleton... it... it moved!"
"Are you blind? That was clearly a White Fox."
Only then did Chu Fan notice that the ground was littered with skeletons, both human and animal. Some of the bones had turned brown with age, while tattered rags of clothing still clung to others.
Clearly, these skeletons were not from the same era.
In addition to the skeletons, the ground was also strewn with old, rusted weapons—blades, spears, swords, and halberds.
The deeper they went, the denser the skeletons became, with weapons scattered everywhere.
He casually picked up a couple of them to inspect them. They were all completely ordinary, so he tossed them aside.
’So the skeletons in this outermost area likely belong to the fearless, skeptical fortune-seekers who broke in more recently.’
So far, although it was a bit grim, there hadn’t been any real danger.
Dingfeng Slope’s fearsome reputation was all based on rumors. After all, everyone who went in died inside, so no one knew what dangers lay within. The general assumption was that it was the lingering power of a residual Array.
Chu Fan grew even more cautious. The presence of these skeletons proved that danger existed here; the only question was how it was triggered.
He hadn’t gone much farther when another scream echoed from ahead, followed by the sound of the group’s footsteps as they fled back in his direction.
Before long, eight panicked figures appeared, running toward him.
The moment the eight of them saw Chu Fan, they froze in shock, then cried out.
"Y-y-you... are you a man or a ghost?" one of them, a middle-aged man with a small moustache, stammered.
While they were stunned, the man at the very back of the group became covered in black beetles. He let out a bloodcurdling scream and collapsed.
Seeing this, the remaining seven didn’t care whether Chu Fan was a man or a ghost; they just ran for their lives.
Of course, Chu Fan also saw the beetles swarming the man. Each one was the size of a palm, and they were rapidly devouring his flesh and blood.
A dense swarm of beetles was also crawling rapidly toward him from the ground.
’Running is impossible now.’ Chu Fan drew his Sword.
The moment he drew his Sword, all the beetles stopped.
Sensing that the beetles had stopped, the seven who had run past also halted and turned to look back.
"He’s not actually thinking of fighting all those beetles by himself, is he?"
However, to the astonishment of everyone, including Chu Fan, the beetles retreated like a tide, leaving not a single one behind. Even the man they had been devouring was left with more than half of his flesh still hanging from his skeleton.
"Hey, kid! Didn’t think you had a few tricks up your sleeve!" Seeing this, the remaining seven men walked back.
Chu Fan just nodded, sheathed his Sword, and prepared to continue deeper.
"Kid, I see you’ve got some skills. How about you join us? We’ll lead you to riches," the man with the moustache shouted at Chu Fan’s back.
"No need!" Chu Fan said, glancing back before continuing forward.
"Fuck, kid! Don’t be so damn ungrateful! The dangers in here are more than just these beetles," Little Moustache said angrily.
"But if you want to follow, I don’t mind," Chu Fan said without turning his head.
The seven men exchanged a look and actually followed him.
However, not only did they not treat Chu Fan as their leader, but they acted as if he was the one getting a deal by having them tag along.
Chu Fan paid them no mind. He walked slowly and cautiously.
As they went deeper, the thick fog thinned a little, and their visibility extended to about fifty yards.
The ground was sparsely littered with more skeletons and some weapons.
Continuing forward, they discovered that all the trees here were carbonized. Not only was there not a speck of green, but the pitted ground was filled with countless blood-red puddles.
Stepping in one, you could feel a distinct stickiness on your boot, and your next step would leave a bloody footprint on the ground.
Chu Fan’s brow furrowed. He crouched down, dabbed his finger in the blood-red liquid from a puddle, and brought it to his nose to smell it.
"This is human blood. Why is there so much of it here?"
Chu Fan was puzzled. ’It’s been three thousand years. The blood should have dried up long ago!’
A sound of something slicing through the air rang out. Before Chu Fan could react, a scream erupted behind him.
He turned to see one of the seven men’s heads now hanging from his body by only a flap of skin—a horrifying sight.
"Old Liu!"
The remaining six men drew their weapons, their hands trembling uncontrollably as if facing a mighty foe.
Just then, a white shadow flashed past, and countless arrows rained down behind it.
Following the white shadow with their eyes, they saw it was an injured White Fox. The White Fox was hiding under a tree, silently licking its wounds and watching them warily.
"Well now. I was just worrying about going hungry tonight. Looks like we’ll be having an extra dish after all." Little Moustache’s gaze on the White Fox was full of greed.
He quietly approached the White Fox, but to his surprise, it didn’t flee in fear.
The very moment he was about to leap forward, countless arrows shot toward him like rain.
The White Fox then let out a cry that sounded like mocking laughter.
Little Moustache frantically swung the long blade in his hand, but an arrow still struck him in the thigh, the immense force pinning him to the ground.
"Boss!" the remaining five men shouted, but not one of them went to help.
In just an instant, Little Moustache was overwhelmed by the rain of arrows.
Chu Fan watched this bizarre scene in astonishment. But as he looked at the White Fox, which was still licking its wounds, he felt a strange sense of affinity for it.
Chu Fan walked toward the White Fox. "Don’t be afraid," he said as he approached. "Let me take a look at your injury."
"Is this kid trying to get himself killed?" the third brother among the five survivors said.
By now, everyone could see there was something strange about this White Fox.
But no one planned on stopping Chu Fan.