Suffocating darkness, oppressive fullness, no sky—only earth.


    Han was currently underground, his strength surging as he carved out a cramped space just big enough to hold him.


    “Master, are we safe yet?” An Lang’s voice echoed from within her ghostly abode.


    “You’re asking me? Who am I supposed to ask?” Han shot back.


    After what felt like an eternity—his breath growing short—he activated his Earth Escape Technique again, fleeing far from the spot he’d been hiding in.


    Whoosh!


    Bursting out of the ground, Han gulped air greedily, scanning his surroundings in an instant. No danger in sight.


    “That scared the life out of me,” An Lang said, drifting out and patting her chest. It wasn’t as impressive as Bai Ruoyue’s, but still held its own.


    Han checked his navigation artifact. “Let’s move. We’re almost at the next spot.”


    It was dawn now. After snagging the Heavenly Snake Vine and resting, they’d trekked through the night. Deeper into Black Mountain, the danger spiked. Unless it was a cub, Visceral Realm beasts were nowhere to be seen.


    Han stayed on high alert, avoiding fights with any beasts. His spiritual senses stretched to the max limit Black Mountain allowed, meticulously probing every nook and cranny, wary of anything too strong to handle. Sure, some beasts reacted wildly to spiritual probing, but those were rare. No way he’d ditch his senses just for a few oddballs.


    Progress slowed to a crawl in these depths. Luckily, the stronger the beast, the bigger its territory—so the area wasn’t too crowded, leaving Han room to maneuver.


    But not long ago, he’d hit his closest call yet in the mountain.


    Two Bone Refining beasts—a bird and a tiger—were locked in a brutal fight right on his path. Han hung back, waiting for them to finish, hoping to swoop in for some leftovers. Then, out of nowhere, a Marrow Cleansing beast showed up—apparently the bird’s mate. One glance at it, and it spotted him.


    No hesitation—Han bolted, diving underground with the Earth Escape Technique and “sprinting” through the soil. That led to his breathless emergence moments ago. He’d lingered beneath the surface for ages, dodging that monstrous bird, before daring to pop up.


    “Master, good thing you’ve got that Earth Escape trick,” An Lang said, still shaken. “Otherwise, we’d be bird food.”


    Han felt a rush of gratitude too. Against flying beasts, burrowing was a lifesaver. Flying to escape? That’d be suicide—outpacing a Marrow Cleansing bird was a pipe dream.


    “Fly from land beasts, dig from flyers,” Han said with a grin. “Perfect combo.”


    Shoutout to Dai Lin from the Earth Corpse Sect—not only did he gift Han the Imprint Realm, but also this clutch escape technique.


    Good thing it was just a beast, too.


    After another half-hour of travel, the green dot representing Han overlapped with the second white dot on the navigation artifact. They’d arrived.


    “Gorgeous,” An Lang breathed, awestruck.


    Han nodded. “Absolutely stunning.”


    Before them sprawled a sea of flowers—vibrant, dazzling blooms of every kind, their faint fragrance wafting over even from a distance. This was the second potential spot for the Sky-Mending Vine.


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    Han crept closer, stopping at a safe range.


    “Master, sense any big beasts?”


    Han’s expression turned grim. “No standout powerhouses here. But we’ve got a bigger problem.”


    “Look at those honey-gathering bees.”


    Above the flower sea buzzed strange bees—each the size of a baby’s fist, flitting about collecting nectar. Every one was a beast, their auras modest individually. Compared to the heavy hitters, they were weaklings. But one bee? No threat. A swarm? Terrifying.


    They could fly, so An Lang’s distraction ploy was useless here. Even if she tried, she couldn’t lure them all away. Han would rather face a single, overwhelming beast than a horde like this.


    “Master, what do we do?” An Lang asked. “Got any ideas?”


    “…” She trailed off as Han just stared back. I asked you, and now you’re asking me?


    “Bees—even beastly ones—fear fire…” Han mused, but a glance at the surroundings made him nix the idea. With his Yin-Yang Flames, a fire attack might work wonders. But this was a sprawling forest. He could start a blaze, but stopping it? Not a chance.


    Start a forest fire, and he’d be in deep trouble—literally and figuratively. Plus, he owed the Yun family for the Mountain God’s intel on the Sky-Mending Vine. Torching Black Mountain would be a disaster—he’d never face Yun Duo again.


    Nope, bad plan.


    “If only we had something that didn’t mind bee stings and could tank their attacks,” An Lang sighed. “Too bad you didn’t snag a puppet from the beast arena. No pain, no problem—just send it into the flower sea.”


    “No fear of stings, no pain…” Han’s eyes lit up. No puppet, sure, but he had something close.


    “An Lang, you’re a genius! I could kiss you!”


    Her ghostly face flushed, and she ducked her head. “Master, what are you saying? I’m still an innocent maiden—how could you tease me like that? Though… if it’s you, I wouldn’t mind.”


    When she looked up, Han was already strides away. She blinked, caught off guard.


    Then she saw him release a Green Zombie. After a moment’s thought, he suited it up—slapping on a high-grade inner armor and a helmet.


    “What’s this for?” she asked.


    “Zombies don’t feel pain. Let it take the stings,” Han said, meticulously arming the corpse with every defensive trinket he’d scavenged from generous “donors” over time.


    Since Taibai had no second cultivator, Han always took his zombies when he wasn’t at the dojo. Couldn’t risk an accident hurting Bai Ruoyue or the apprentices. Now, it was paying off.


    Sting all you want—poison or not, a zombie wouldn’t flinch.


    Once fully geared, Han smeared it with various concoctions—some fragrant and alluring, others brightly colored. He’d met plenty of “helpful” folks—evil cultivators included—and picked up a stash of toxins along the way.


    Imagining the bees swarming this armored corpse made him smirk.


    An Lang shook her head. “Master, you’re ruthless.”


    “No need for honor with beasts,” Han shrugged.


    He pulled out a Beast-Luring Pill fragment, crushed it to powder, and dusted it over the zombie. “This stuff’s a game-changer. Shame I’ve only got one left—gotta stretch it.”


    This was its third use, always just a pinch. Frugality was his motto.


    Prep done, he stashed An Lang in her ghost abode, sent the zombie charging into the flower sea, and darted toward it from another angle.


    Roar!


    A guttural corpse howl rang out, grabbing the bees’ attention. The zombie stomped through the blooms, a breeze carrying its scent across the area. Then it bolted, fast as lightning.


    Bzzz!


    A deafening buzz erupted as every bee—visible and hidden—swarmed out, hooked by the Beast-Luring Pill’s aroma. Individually weak, they couldn’t resist it. A dark cloud filled the sky, chasing the zombie relentlessly.


    Their simple beast minds—kill-on-sight instincts plus that irresistible scent—left them blind to anything else.


    From his hiding spot, Han unleashed his spiritual senses, scouring the flower sea. An Lang popped out too, lending her own effort.


    In a few breaths, Han strode to the center. There, amid the oddity, bloomed a striking red flower. Within a meter around it, nothing else grew—no flowers, no weeds. The stem supporting it was as thick as an adult’s arm, like a small tree, etched with winding, binding-like marks.


    A treasure flower.


    Han dug it up, soil and all, and stashed it. An Lang flew back, a beehive floating before her.


    “Master, jackpot!” she crowed.


    Han gaped. She’d outdone him—looted their whole damn home. He loved it.


    “Let’s bounce!”


    Stuffing the flower and hive into his spatial pouch, he grabbed An Lang and ran.


    Soon, the bees returned. The missing flower and hive sent their buzzing into a furious crescendo—pure rage. But with no way to track a spatial pouch, their anger had nowhere to go.


    Han sensed briefly, then headed in one direction. Soon, a fallen figure came into view—the Green Zombie, his trusty decoy.


    “Man, that’s rough,” An Lang said, wincing.


    The gear Han had given it was trashed—metal corroded, armor shattered. The zombie itself was a wreck: pockmarked flesh, chunks missing, bones exposed, even its head half-rotted. Pain wasn’t an issue, but those bees packed a punch beyond stings.


    Hundreds—thousands—of relentless attackers piling on, tearing it apart. Brutal.


    Han tucked it into the corpse pouch. He’d patch it up later—couldn’t let a hero go to waste. Fixed up, it’d still work for him.