Chapter 725: Savage Silks and Stitches
Leaves crumbled beneath Adam’s feet, the scents of pine and wild game—freshly killed—filled his nose. Long blood trails stretched across the musty earth. They snaked through trees and mounds to the predators’ burrow.
Mushrooms clung to roots and gnarled barks, feeding on glistening sap. Insects stood on patterned webs of their own making, poised on grass, ready to strike smaller prey, or flying from one plant to another, each playing their part with clear purpose. No matter how he looked at them, they were more than creatures—they were the forest’s silent architects.
Amidst the wonder, his eyes narrowed on the ghostly mist blanketing the forest. It licked his skin a little more with each step. Cradled against his chest, Qing shuddered as the frosty sensation increased, and in front of him, Yann let out disgruntled grunts.
"This damned mist tries to crawl beneath my skin." Yann eventually punched the air, mist spreading outward in concentric circles for a fleeting moment before slithering back as if nothing could disturb it. "Tsk. We’d better make haste."
He pointed at a squirrel perched on a twisted branch. Adam followed his finger, gazing at a ball of white fur. It should have been cute. Its piercing red eyes weren’t. Neither were its protruding jagged teeth.
His eyes widened as he took in the earlier insects. All white. All filled with spikes, and blades, and claws they shouldn’t possess. All powerful magical beasts.
"What’s this place?" He asked, his steps noticeably faster. "Is the mist corrupting them?"
Shadows danced on Yann’s face as his voice grew heavy with tension. "Not corruption, lad. A side effect. I know where we are—the cursed forest of Ashenveil Grove. Few dare to cross it, and even fewer have reasons to."
Adam tucked his fingers around his chin, scrutinising the barbed stinger and sharp wings of a hornet. "The region we landed in is indeed isolated. Suits me—fewer risks of being found out. But side effects? What did they try to achieve?"
"Purification," Yann answered with a simple word, yet his curved moustache twitched like flickering candles. "There is something you must know about the archipelago. Unlike rogue mages, no one hates cultivators here. Instead, they turn their rage toward the supernatural. Some say this remote forest was meant to purify ghosts, others that it trapped their souls into its ecosystem."