Chapter Eleven: The Terrifying Middle Floor

Chapter Eleven: The Dreaded Middle Layer

With his head down, Ye Bai kept running, unaware that he had already entered the middle layer of the Ghostwood Mountains. As he ventured deeper, he failed to notice how his “path” was narrowing. The surrounding trees could no longer be described as merely gigantic—they loomed like green giants, magnified dozens of times over, stooping to glare at any passing human or beast, ever ready to strike and devour everything.

By the time Ye Bai realized the space around him had shrunk and something was amiss, he was already in the middle layer. Staring at the dark green leaves overhead, he was momentarily dumbfounded. “This… could this really be the middle layer of the Ghostwood?” At last, he understood why the persistent Guardian Beast had given up its pursuit.

Frustration welled up in Ye Bai—his attempt to outwit his foe had backfired spectacularly. Not only had he failed to gain anything, but he also found himself smeared with misfortune and plunged into an even deeper, more perilous predicament. Yet Ye Bai quickly steadied himself. He reminded himself that there were no enemies he could not face, no hardships he could not overcome. He had not died at the maw of the Guardian Beast; he would not perish here. Thinking of his mother and sister, he rallied his courage and pressed onward through the heart of the Ghostwood Mountains.

Ye Bai searched the trunks around him and found a crevice just wide enough for a person. He slipped inside to inspect his gear—his very lifeline in this deadly place. He reapplied the juice of green mugwort to his particle blade; not every mutant beast, after all, was immune to toxins as the Guardian Beast had been.

He knew that if he encountered any mutant beasts in this middle layer, his blade would do little more than scratch the surface of their hides. That was when the numbing effect of the green mugwort would prove useful. As for his magnetic pistol, it was little better than a firework—practically useless. That left his best hope for survival: three photon grenades, having already used two. He placed them carefully in his pocket and ran his fingers over them.

Resting a moment in the tree crevice to regain his strength, Ye Bai mulled over how he might escape. First, he had no map of the middle layer and no idea where he was. If he had only just crossed the boundary, he might face merely entry-level mutant beasts, but the deeper he went, the more likely he would encounter foundation-level or even growth-level beasts, any of which could kill him with a single breath.

What’s worse, he had paid no attention to his route while fleeing. Now, hemmed in by these monstrous trees, he was hopelessly disoriented. All he could do was try to head back in the general direction from which he’d come and hope to find a way out.

Just then, a slanting beam of sunlight pierced the tree crevice. Ye Bai stepped out and glanced up at the westering sun. He had to move—if night fell, he would be doomed.

All around him were towering trees, their massive trunks seemingly buckling under the weight of their leaves. Occasionally, a dark green leaf would flutter down. Ye Bai, moving cautiously beneath the canopy, was startled by the sudden fall of leaves—who could say what might come down next? His expression grew tense and wary, like a bird startled by the mere twang of a bowstring.

It was late afternoon. The mutant beasts of the mountains seemed to be napping; not a sound disturbed the silence. The oppressive quiet made Ye Bai’s back prickle with cold, despite the sweltering air. The occasional crack of a twig beneath his feet was the only reminder that he was still in the world of the living, not trapped in some verdant hell.

Suddenly, a patch of yellow-brown broke the monotony of green. In the jungle, any anomaly could spell disaster—a cardinal rule of exploration. Ye Bai was about to turn away when a buzzing sound erupted, and the first mutant beast burst from the earth.

It spanned a full half-meter with its wings, which vibrated furiously as it hovered. A jet-black, needle-sharp stinger was leveled at him, while a pair of oval compound eyes glinted with iridescent colors in the sunlight. Below those eyes, a ten-centimeter-long proboscis writhed, producing a sinister, sucking noise. Its abdomen bristled with what could no longer be called hairs—they were more akin to steel needles—and black and yellow stripes formed a demonic face on its belly.

One glance, and Ye Bai knew he had disturbed a hornet’s nest—except this was not an ordinary hornet, but the lair of the Demon Mask Wasp. Without a moment’s hesitation, he spun and ran. Behind him, the buzzing and the whir of wings grew ever louder.

Dozens of Demon Mask Wasps were now in furious pursuit. Ye Bai glanced back—there was no contest between runner and flier. In mere seconds, the wasps were nearly upon him.

Without delay, Ye Bai whipped out his magnetic pistol.

Bang!

A shot rang out through the mountains, but what happened next left Ye Bai dumbfounded.

He had aimed for the compound eye of a Demon Mask Wasp. Sparks flashed—but not even a scratch marred the wasp’s armor; its pace merely slowed for an instant.

Bang! Bang! Bang! He fired at the abdomen, the thorax, the legs, but each shot had the same result: nothing.

Where, then, was their weakness? As he fled, Ye Bai racked his brain for the wasps’ vulnerable spot, but his weapon could not even pierce their defenses. By now, he could feel the Demon Mask Wasps almost at his back—his hair, which had streamed behind him as he ran, was now fluttering forward in the slipstream.

Ye Bai felt the wind from their wings buffeting his back.

“Wings, wings…” he muttered to himself, and suddenly his eyes lit up with inspiration. With a wry smile, he realized that the weak spot he had so desperately sought had been right before him all along.

Bang! The magnetic pistol spat fire, the firing pin igniting the round and leaving the air tinged with the smell of scorched powder. The bullet, propelled with tremendous force, streaked toward the wasp’s wing.

A sound like tearing paper split the air as the bullet punched a hole through the Demon Mask Wasp’s wing, the magnetic energy enlarging the wound. The stricken wasp seemed to slam on invisible brakes, tumbling from the sky and crashing to the ground, writhing and shrieking to warn its companions.

Seeing the tactic work, Ye Bai was elated and fired again. Yet now the wasps seemed to grow wise, and it often took several shots to bring one down.

The swarm closed in, their stingers nearly brushing the nape of his neck.

Ye Bai quickened his pace, searching desperately for a way to escape. The gaps between the trees were narrowing, but fortune favored him—ahead, beyond the dense woods, a waterfall appeared.

Just then, the more distant wasps began to flex their abdomens; their stingers oozed viscous fluid, which they aimed and fired at Ye Bai with deadly intent.

There was no time for hesitation—Ye Bai flung himself into the waterfall and let the current carry him away. He had not expected such a sheer drop; the force of the water overwhelmed him, and, battered by the impact, he lost consciousness as he plunged into the abyss below.