Body command feeding world

The smoke from the chimneys in Qinglu Village has completely died down.

The charred roof beams leaned precariously in the scorched earth, broken bamboo branches still damp with blood, gleaming coldly in the morning mist. Wu Wei crouched down, using the tip of his black iron spear to clear away a shard of stone. Beneath it lay half a child's cloth bag, the embroidered bamboo rat pattern soaked in blood, its edges curled like scorched leaves. The moment his fingertips touched the bag, a subtle tremor ran through his very bones, and Shu's thoughts flowed through his heart like a cold spring: "The fragments are to the north. Beyond Black Wind Ridge lies the area with the densest miasma."

As Wu Wei rose, the shaft of his spear struck the scorched earth with a dull thud. His backpack contained only the remaining dry rations and medicine, and the tassel of his Flame Spear at his waist was still stained with the black blood of the evil spirits. The Yang Flame Blood Essence flowed slowly through his meridians, burning away the lingering chill. Ya Ya clutched his clothes, her little face buried in his back. Her sobs had long since ceased, leaving only the slight trembling of her shoulders. Her small hands gripped tightly the smooth, worn wooden whistle she had picked up from beside her mother's corpse.

"They're gone." Wu Wei's voice was deep and resonant like the sound of a gun barrel, offering no further comfort. He knew that at this moment, no words were as reliable as the spear in his hand—the tragic deaths of over a hundred people in Qinglu Village had already crushed the word "fate" into ashes. Only by finding the fragments of the origin and unraveling the strange cycle of this world could he give the departed souls an explanation.

His footsteps crunched softly over the rubble, the sound particularly clear in the deathly silence of the village. Wu Wei walked with remarkable steadyness, each step firmly planted on solid ground. As his gaze swept across the surroundings, a flicker of yang energy flashed in his pupils, alert to any lingering traces of malevolent energy. His perspective was closely aligned with his own senses; his fingertips could clearly perceive the lingering stench in the air—the residual scent of dead malevolent energy, mingled with the damp chill of the morning mist, seeping into his lungs and stirring a slight restlessness in his blood essence.

The road out of the village was blocked by collapsed bamboo houses. Wu Wei wrapped his left arm around Ya Ya's waist, while his right arm swept across with his spear. The Blazing Flame Spear, wreathed in pale golden flames, whistled through the air, sending broken bamboo and pebbles flying. Where the blazing flames passed, the air crackled and burned, and the remaining miasma melted away like snow meeting fire. Ya Ya instinctively closed her eyes, burying her face deeper, the faint smell of gunpowder emanating from Wu Wei filling her nostrils. Though the smell was strong, it inexplicably reassured her—it was the only scent that could protect her.

"Hold on tight." Wu Wei's voice carried a hint of barely perceptible gentleness. He leaped over the broken wall, landing lightly on his toes, his figure as steady as a solitary peak. The morning mist thickened, and the outline of Qinglu Village gradually blurred behind him, leaving only a desolate silhouette, like a scar forgotten by the world. Ya Ya secretly opened her eyes, watching the receding village, her small hands gripping the wooden whistle tighter, her knuckles turning white, tears silently sliding down, dripping onto Wu Wei's clothes, spreading into a small damp patch.

Wu Wei didn't turn around. He could feel the fragility of the child behind him, but the will in his core became clear at this moment: "The evil spirits of Black Wind Ridge are more ferocious than those of Qinglu Village. They grow stronger by devouring living souls and are extremely sensitive to the power of origin." Yangyan Blood Essence surged through his meridians like oil being poured into a raging fire, and the spear shaft trembled slightly, as if it had a mind of its own, responding to its master's fighting spirit. He knew the road ahead was treacherous. The evil miasma of Black Wind Ridge was as thick as ink, and no one knew how many ferocious beasts were hidden inside, let alone where the fragments of origin were hidden. But he had no choice—the blood of Qinglu Village could not be shed in vain, and his spear would be pointed at that so-called "destiny."

They had traveled only a few miles when the fog thickened, reducing visibility to less than ten feet. The malevolent stench in the air grew stronger, a cloying sweetness mingled with the putrid liquid secreted by evil spirits, a smell that made one want to vomit. Wu Wei stopped, shielding Ya Ya behind him, gripping his spear horizontally, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground. Yang Flame Blood Essence flowed slowly down the shaft, condensing into a point of cold light at the tip.

"Hold your breath," he whispered.

As soon as he finished speaking, a rustling sound came from the mist on the left, accompanied by heavy breathing. Two eerie green lights appeared in the mist, approaching like ghosts. Wu Wei's eyes narrowed, and the blood essence at his fingertips suddenly surged. The Blazing Flame Spear fell like the midday sun, its tip transforming into a surging fire serpent, tearing through the gloom of the mist and piercing straight towards the source of the lights.

"Pfft—"

The sound of the spear tip piercing flesh was exceptionally piercing. Scalding black blood rebounded along the spear shaft, and Wu Wei could clearly feel the stinging pain of the clash between the malevolent, chilling energy and the fiery heat on his fingertips. It was a ferocious beast resembling a wolf cub, its body covered in sticky black scales. The black blood from its wounds burned intensely upon contact with the fiery heat, sizzling and turning into wisps of black smoke. The beast let out a mournful howl, struggling to pounce, but was firmly suppressed by the power of the fiery heat, its body gradually melting away on the spear tip.

Ya Ya trembled with fear, biting her lip tightly to keep quiet. She watched Wu Wei's back as he held the gun, his figure as upright as a solitary peak, the gun's shadow like a tapestry, the blazing sun like fire, instantly turning the ferocious beast to ashes. The mist was dispersed slightly by the fiery force, revealing Wu Wei's cold profile, sweat dripping from his chin, mingling with the black blood on the gun barrel, and falling to the ground.

"Keep going." Wu Wei sheathed his spear, the flames at its tip slowly receding, leaving only faint scorch marks. He put his arm around Ya Ya again and continued northward without stopping. In the mist, his figure and spear became one, like a drawn blade, sharp yet controlled with ease.

Deep within his bones, Shu's thoughts resonated once more, tinged with solemnity: "This is just the beginning. Deep within Black Wind Ridge, an even more powerful being is sensing the power of origin."

Wu Wei didn't respond, only gripping his spear tighter. The Yangyan Blood Essence surged and roared through his bones, merging with the primal power of the Pivot, transforming into a warm yet fierce current. He knew the road ahead was long and fraught with danger, but as long as he held the spear, as long as the children beside him needed protection, he could only press forward—the souls of the fallen from Qinglu Village watched from behind, the fragments of the primal power beckoned from the front; his path with the spear was one of carving a path to survival in dire straits.

The fog thickened, gradually engulfing the figures of a person, a child, and a gun, leaving only a trail of footprints of varying depths stretching northward and disappearing into the vast miasma.