Chapter Forty-Two: First Foray to the Summit

They took the reward money with delight, giving no thought to Blackfeather, and hurried back to the city to shop.

Night had fallen thick and deep over the forest. Alone, Blackfeather crossed the eastern woods of the city outskirts and reached the riverbank, passing over a bridge. This was the spot where his father, Yisheng, often came to fish. In the hush, the cold rush of the river echoed, its waters winding beneath the bridge, reflecting the ghastly silver of the moon.

Across the river, the vague silhouette of a low hill emerged, shrouded in layers of heavy mist beneath the night sky.

“This is the place. I remember when my foster father saved me all those years ago, we stood on that little hill and gazed toward the Holy City. According to the task board, the address is at the summit—just a little farther.”

The climb was arduous, the path all but invisible. Blackfeather pressed forward, staff in hand, parting the tangled shrubs and pushing through the dense undergrowth. Now and then, a bank of cloud would blot out the moon and leave the forest in utter darkness.

The trees here were not as towering as those in the Twilight Woods; their thick canopies brushed close to his ears, hissing and rustling in the night wind, like countless writhing, clawed shadows.

“The task board says S-rank. There are new kinds of monsters near the summit… I’ll have to be careful,” he reminded himself, recalling the mission details.

He soon found himself before a barrier of iron wire, a blockade, with a wooden sign hanging from it: “Danger—No Entry.”

Ever since his confrontation with White Scorpion, his memories had begun to return, though he had sought to confirm them further.

“If I enter here, maybe I’ll remember more of the past…”

He leapt, clearing the iron fence in a single bound. As he pressed forward, the dense mist clung to his skin and soon condensed into icy droplets, chilling him to the bone.

He walked for a while through the fog, perplexed; all was indistinguishable, and every step seemed to stretch the distance endlessly. After a quarter of an hour, he found himself not at the research facility’s gate, but back at his starting point.

This troubled Blackfeather. He tried several times more, but each time, emerging from the fog, he found himself before that “Danger—No Entry” sign, back where he began.

He realized, “There must be a magical array here, meant to trap intruders and prevent them from wandering in by mistake. Luckily, it only imprisons—there’s no lurking threat within.”

He glanced up at the night sky, unfurled his wings, and with a surge of pitch-black wind beneath his feet, spiraled upwards. Rising to the top of the mist, he saw that the strange vapors formed a white, lid-like dome over the mountaintop.

“So it’s a magical barrier… I’ll have to break it myself!”

He channeled his power, and black light gathered at the tip of his staff. Suddenly, a blade of magical energy shot out, striking the fog. Where the wind scattered the mist, a transparent, hemispherical shield appeared, blocking the beam before fading again from sight.

“Seriously? This magic array is tougher than I thought. It’ll take more than that to break through.”

He let his staff hover in the air, stretched his right hand forward, and as the flame-shaped mark in his palm burned with searing pain, waves of dark energy streamed from it and enveloped his arm.

“First Seal—Release!”

His magic blood boiled; his veins thrummed like war drums, and his vision sharpened, allowing him to see every detail in the forest below, every blade of grass and leaf at the foot of the mountain. In that instant, his strength, speed, and every attribute surged as the seal broke.

Blackfeather gripped his staff once more. “Magic Light Blast!”

A fierce beam shot downward, the force of its eruption pushing Blackfeather back in midair. This time, the black light pierced the barrier atop the mountain, and the mist dispersed.

A two-story abandoned structure slowly emerged beneath the moonlight. Its walls were ashen gray, most of the building had collapsed, and the crumbling, ruined walls were weathered and riddled with cracks.

Blackfeather landed on the ground and approached the ruined entrance of the research facility. The broad doors were rusted and drowned in tall weeds. The windows had all been shattered, shards scattered across the grass, crunching underfoot. Through the ruined doorway, he could see the main hall within—an abyss of darkness and silence.

He stepped over the threshold and entered the square chamber, his footsteps echoing on the hard floor. The oppressive atmosphere made Blackfeather keep the First Seal open; he clung to his staff, pressing on with caution.

“This must be the place I once stayed,” he murmured.

Beyond the entrance was a spacious, square hall. In the center, a shattered chandelier lay on the floor, thick with dust. Several wooden display racks lined the walls, holding jars and bottles, all draped in massive cobwebs. Most of the shelves were tilted and broken, but what caught Blackfeather’s eye were the deep, savage claw marks gouged into their surfaces.

“These claw marks are deep—whatever beasts are nearby, they must be ferocious,” Blackfeather observed carefully. “I wonder what kind of monsters they are.”

Just then, a cold wind swept behind him. A huge black shadow flashed past at incredible speed; by the time Blackfeather turned, it had already darted into a corridor.

Startled by its sudden movement, Blackfeather grew even more alert and immediately gave chase down the narrow hallway.

His footsteps thundered, his breath quickening and echoing, shaking dust from the walls. The hallway was pitch-black, but at the far end, a faint shaft of moonlight spilled in through an open doorway.

As he neared the door, Blackfeather leveled his staff, ready for whatever threat might leap from the shadows.

He glanced into the room as he ran—a dilapidated mess hall, tables and chairs overturned, windows on the far wall shattered into gaping holes, letting the cold wind howl through.

He stopped at the threshold. In the corner of the mess hall, several pairs of glowing eyes glinted—a stare like wolves in the night, fierce yet tinged with fear.

Their hunched backs loomed large and monstrous, cowering together behind a fallen table. Their arms, as thick as those of great apes, dragged nearly to the ground, while a mane-like pelt bristled from their heads down to the base of their tails.

Blackfeather was astonished; these creatures were half-human, half-beast. He looked around—the walls were still scarred with monstrous claws, and heaps of gnawed white bones cluttered the corners. Among them, he recognized several skulls—human, by their shapes. Clearly, these monsters survived by preying on wild beasts and the occasional traveler passing nearby.

Seeing him advance, the monsters in the corner instantly bristled, their manes standing on end. They let out shrill, menacing cries, baring pale fangs, their crimson mouths drooling with foul saliva.