The battlefield was hell.
Soot, blood, and phantasmal screeches filled the air in an orchestra of chaos. The ancient locust tree groaned under a spectral wind, its bark splitting open with every soul that fell near its roots. Ghosts—hundreds of them—wailed, clawed, shrieked. Each second stretched thin, a breath away from being overwhelmed.
"Aren't you out of blue?"
Wang Xian's voice cut through the noise, sharp with disbelief.
In combat, mana didn't recover. Everyone knew this. Not until a professional advancement—when the body's link to mana deepened—could any natural regeneration occur in battle. Cheng Yao was only level 25. There was no way.
A soft chime of data answered him. Cheng Yao shared her panel, and pointed to a single skill, her fingers trembling but her expression smug.
[Moving Flowers and Trees]Health and mana can be freely converted. No cooldown.When taking damage, mana is consumed first.
Wang Xian slapped his own forehead. Of course. How could he forget that skill?
Still, something didn't add up.
"Then why didn't you convert your health earlier?" His voice darkened, almost accusatory.
Cheng Yao's smile froze. "I... forgot."
A beat.
Wang Xian stared.
And stared.
"You forgot?" he repeated, blinking slowly.
A horde of ghosts screamed in the distance. Their shrieks were somehow less haunting than the dead silence that followed Cheng Yao's confession.
"I'm surrounded by morons," he muttered.
Cheng Yao stuck out her tongue.
"Since you have blue, use Holy Light Strike to wipe out as many as you can," Wang Xian ordered. "I'll take care of any AoE damage."
She nodded, getting to work.
Golden beams of purifying light rained down upon the battlefield, each strike sending another spirit howling into nothingness. Wang Xian covered her with bursts of flame and lightning, holding the perimeter.
But barely a minute in—
"Uncle, I'm out of blue!"
Wang Xian whirled. "Didn't you just—you're full HP! Convert!"
"I can't!" she cried. "System says conversion is locked during combat until I take damage again."
Wang Xian's blood ran cold.
System restrictions. Of course.
A skill that let her swap mana and HP endlessly without limit would've broken the game—so of course, it had rules.
"...I knew it," he muttered.
He could already feel the end creeping up behind them. Cheng Yao's eyes widened in desperation.
"Uncle, what now? I don't want to die—I've already used one of my lives."
Wang Xian gave her a long look, and shrugged.
"Then I guess you're dying."
Her eyes watered immediately. "You're so cruel!"
"Goodbye, Yaoyao," he said with mock solemnity. He stepped toward her and gently closed her eyelids with two fingers. "Go in peace."
Cheng Yao's expression went blank.
And then she bit him.
"AHHHHH! LET GO!"
Wang Xian screamed, yanking his hand back.
He'd forgotten—completely—that she still had her [Liu Yin Hua Ming] resurrection mark. The moment she died, it triggered. And she came back. With teeth.
"Serves you right!" she shouted, not letting go.
"Damn it! It hurts!" He flailed, but she clamped on harder.
Finally, she let go—only because another wave of ghosts descended.
Wang Xian took his post again. Cheng Yao resumed healing—what little she could.
But the end was inevitable.
—
Five minutes later, her mana was gone again.
The others had already fallen.
The ghosts surged, undeterred, their shrieks now higher-pitched—more excited. Smelling death. Closing in.
"I don't want to die again," Cheng Yao whispered.
"Then don't," Wang Xian replied. "But there's nothing I can do now."
The battlefield trembled.
Then... it shook.
The earth beneath them cracked like old bone. Wang Xian fell to one knee. Cheng Yao stumbled.
"Earthquake?" she asked, breath catching.
Wang Xian's eyes scanned the surroundings. "No. Buildings aren't moving. This is something else."
And then came the sound.
A scream. A thousand voices shrieking all at once.
Not human. Not animal. Something... wrong.
Ghosts stopped mid-charge.
And ran.
They ran.
But not fast enough.
The ancient locust tree erupted.
Branches—glowing white-hot with celestial flame—exploded from its trunk. They tore through the sky, through ghosts, through shadow and flesh alike. Every spirit caught in the radius was shredded.
Not banished.
Destroyed.
"Ding! Shanyin Guhuai has evolved to Mythic Rank."
The area within 100 meters of the tree was purified. A quiet, terrible silence fell.
Not peace. Just the pause between storms.
Nangong Wu approached from the shadows, wide-eyed.
"The task's... complete."
Wang Xian, still breathing hard, asked, "Reward?"
"Not yet," she said. "We're supposed to ask the tree."
He turned to the trunk.
And froze.
The tree was gone.
In its place stood a young man—no older than twenty—clad in a robe of woven bark and silk. His hair shimmered like silver leaves. His eyes were bottomless wells.
"Who dares awaken the child of roots and storms?" the figure asked.
Everyone stepped back instinctively.
"Holy shit," Wang Xian muttered. "It has an avatar."
"Holy HOT," Cheng Yao said beside him.
He didn't even argue.
They were in the presence of something ancient. And something very, very awake.