Chapter 46: Metamorphosis of the Ant

Regarding this, Qiu Han was equally puzzled, but for him at the time, it was a fortunate turn—at least the immediate danger had been resolved. Yet after several days, he noticed the abnormal behavior of the ant beasts growing increasingly pronounced, which left him with a faint sense of unease.

Though the signs troubled him, Qiu Han could find no explanation in the short term. Shaking off his thoughts, he drew a deep breath and continued on his journey of trials.

Days and nights passed in quiet succession, and another day slipped by. By midday, Qiu Han, traversing the desert, could already make out the faint outline of the far side of the sands.

“If all goes well, by this time tomorrow I should be able to leave this desert behind. It’s a shame—after nearly ten days wandering this place, I still haven’t gathered enough to fulfill my task… It seems I’ll have to search for more Desert Crimson Crystals on my return journey.”

So he mused inwardly, evidently having a plan in mind. Just as he was about to move, he suddenly halted, a mixture of excitement, astonishment, and suspicion flitting across his face as he stared directly ahead.

About fifty paces in front of him was a sand mound—taller than a man—and atop it protruded a chunk of red, the size of a wide-brimmed hat, gleaming with a ruby light. It was unmistakably a Desert Crimson Crystal, the very kind Qiu Han had been collecting.

He advanced with utmost caution, step by step. From recent experience, he knew that wherever a Desert Crimson Crystal appeared, a horde of ant beasts would surely guard it.

With a slap to the pouch at his waist, he drew out several items, and after the time it took to brew a cup of tea, he was fully prepared to meet any danger that might arise.

When he was ten paces from the crystal, Qiu Han felt the temperature rise sharply, as though he’d suddenly stepped into a blazing furnace. Growing more vigilant, the protective light around him flickered up and down.

Silence.

A deep, unnatural silence, yet beneath it, he seemed to hear a restless stirring at his ears. It was faint at first, but gradually grew, a mounting agitation that made his heart race and his mind uneasy.

The sound did not seem to come from the surroundings, nor did any bird or beast fly overhead within a hundred miles. It was as if the noise arose from deep underground. Could it be…?

Qiu Han’s unease deepened. After a few more breaths, a faint tremor rose beneath his feet. At first it was so slight that only careful attention would detect it, but as the moments passed, the shaking intensified.

Then, with a thunderous rumble, the earth collapsed in a wide area—nearly a hundred paces in every direction—centered not on Qiu Han himself, but on the sand mound.

He lost his footing and plunged downward with the collapsing ground, a storm of dust rising around him. The cave-in lasted nearly the time it takes for incense to burn before it finally stopped.

Had a cultivator flown overhead at that moment and looked down, he would have seen a massive pit, as though the earth itself had caved in. If not naturally formed, one could hardly imagine what sort of ancient monster, possessing unfathomable power, could have wrought such a vast chasm.

Qiu Han fell along with the earth, his head spinning. He bit his tongue to stay conscious and adjusted his posture so that his feet pointed downward.

He had no sense of how long he fell, nor could he tell where he was—his descent had not been a straight line. After roughly the time it takes for incense to burn, his feet finally touched solid ground.

He got to his feet and looked around. He found himself standing in a clearing nearly thirty paces across, encircled by dark, towering mountains that rose nearly a hundred paces high.

Judging by how long he had fallen, Qiu Han guessed he was at least ten thousand paces underground. But how could there be mountains in such a place?

As he pondered this, an ominous feeling crept over him, especially as he realized that these mountains were not motionless; they shifted slowly, and the restless noise seemed to emanate from them.

A sense of dread welled up inside him.

Hurriedly, Qiu Han released his spiritual sense. As soon as it touched those looming peaks, a shock unlike any he had ever known coursed through his nerves. His expression shifted from confusion to blankness, then to terror, as though he’d stumbled upon something unspeakably dreadful.

Those mountains, which had seemed so still, suddenly rolled and tumbled. Boulders cascaded from their summits—but on closer look, these were not rocks at all, but ant beasts.

The surrounding mountains were, in fact, composed of countless ant beasts. As the mountains crumbled and shifted, their true nature was revealed. Dense, endless waves of ant beasts surged toward Qiu Han like a tide.

A chill ran down his spine. There must have been millions of them—enough to exhaust him to death even if their attacks could not harm him.

But Qiu Han would never resign himself to death so easily. Having survived many brushes with mortality, his will was tempered to steel. Even faced with such a swarm, he would not surrender.

The path of cultivation was fraught with peril and hardship. If he let this danger break his spirit, how could he ever hope to ascend? He would take matters one step at a time—first, he had to survive this crisis.

At this perilous moment, Qiu Han was anything but panicked. Instead, his gaze was calm and resolute. Forming a sign with his right hand, he skillfully unleashed the Fire Control Technique. The leading ranks of ant beasts were instantly engulfed by a sea of flame.

Under his command, the Fire Control Technique swept through the nearest ant beasts, annihilating more than half in an instant. Yet the swarms pressed forward, undeterred by death, endless and inexhaustible.

While directing his flames, Qiu Han layered his defenses and fully extended his spiritual sense, seeking any possible escape. But clearly, there was no way out.

Another interval passed—long enough to burn a stick of incense. Qiu Han had no idea how many ant beasts he had slain, but the tide before him seemed undiminished, if not fiercer than ever.

“Damn it,” he thought, “if this continues, in a few hours my spiritual power will run dry and I won’t be able to maintain the Fire Control Technique. Even with spirit stones to replenish myself, I could last only a day at most—and with no time at all to rest, I can’t rely on those stones forever to restore my strength.”