……

Shi Yinghe looked up at the sky, then down at the ground, scanning her surroundings.

Nope. Nothing.

Was someone calling her? Not at all.

Seeing her reaction, the Puppeteer completely lost it.

“Shi Yinghe, you hypocritical fraud! You call yourself a Formal Investigator of the 749 Bureau?! Spineless coward, standing by while someone dies! F*** your ********…”

As Lu Ding dragged the Puppeteer farther away, Shi Yinghe bent down, picked up the sword on the ground, and flicked off the dirt clinging to it.

“Tch. Spine? How much is that worth? Live through this first, then come talk to me about ‘spine.’ And standing by while someone dies? You, a damned Tianli Cult scum, calling me a fraud? Pfft.”

The Puppeteer must have had a screw loose.

When your life was on the line, even surrendering and pretending to submit was an option.

Talking about ‘spine’ in a moment like this? That was just dumb.

Watching the two figures disappear into the dense forest, Shi Yinghe pulled out her phone and sent a message in their mission group chat.

“Weren’t there just six of us on this mission? Where did this extra intern come from? He’s ridiculously strong. Who called in backup?”

That message was what led to Wen Yuquan’s earlier reaction.

—

Meanwhile, in the mountain hollow.

A chill spread through the air, thick with eerie energy. Swarms of venomous insects skittered across the terrain.

Lu Ding carried the half-conscious Puppeteer by the leg, leaping onto a treetop. His gaze swept over the valley below.

This place wasn’t particularly large, nor was it too small. He had just scouted almost every corner of it.

He had seen all sorts of bizarre, grotesque venomous creatures—but not the Flying Centipede.

“Hey, wake up. Where’s the Flying Centipede?”

Lu Ding shook the Puppeteer a few times, rousing him from his blood-loss-induced stupor.

The man’s pale lips trembled as he weakly whispered,

“Cave… in the cave…”

Lu Ding looked ahead.

At the base of the valley’s mountain wall, partially concealed by dense foliage, was a narrow cave barely wide enough for one person to pass through.

A foul, putrid stench wafted from its entrance—so strong it burned the nose.

Moreover, the cave walls were unnaturally smooth, likely polished by something frequently moving in and out.

Lu Ding wasn’t stupid.

A tight space like this?

If he encountered something troublesome inside, it’d be difficult to escape.

“You’re not screwing with me, are you?” He lifted the Puppeteer to eye level.

The man weakly shook his head.

“No… I swear, it’s in there. I’ve told you everything I know. Let me go, please… let me face trial at the 749 Bureau. I… I can’t take this anymore. If you don’t treat my wounds soon, I’ll bleed to death…”

Even though he was a Cultivator of Qi, he wasn’t invincible.

Losing an arm, being carried upside down for so long—even a superhuman wouldn’t be able to withstand that.

The Puppeteer wasn’t stupid.

If he ended up in the hands of the 749 Bureau, he might still have a chance to survive, even if it meant a lifetime of suffering.

Hell, he might even get a chance to redeem himself.

But if he remained in this madman’s hands…

He might not even live to see the next sunrise.

Better to be alive than dead.

He hadn’t had enough of life yet—he didn’t want to die.

Lu Ding didn’t respond.

He glanced at the cave, then down at the Puppeteer in his grasp.

Then, without warning, he swung the man in wide circles and hurled him straight into the cave.

“Survive first. Then we’ll talk about handing you over to the Bureau.”

“YOU F***ING—!!! 749 Bureau, you’re all heartless bastards!!!”

The Puppeteer’s body crashed into the cave.

The sound of rustling and skittering filled the air, followed by the man’s anguished screams.

A second later—

Silence.

Then—

A deep, droning buzz.

Like the roar of a helicopter.

A massive shadow shot out from the cave.

Lu Ding couldn’t make out its full form, nor did he care.

The moment it emerged, he instinctively swung a Slash Attack at it.

But it was too fast.

In the blink of an eye, it evaded his strike.

Latching onto a tree branch, the monstrous silhouette became clearer.

A gigantic dobsonfly—except its body was covered in jagged, armored spikes.

It crunched down on the Puppeteer’s skull with its massive mandibles, producing a sickening, crisp crack.

This was the Flying Centipede.

Its thick, spiked exoskeleton and deadly bite weren’t its most terrifying traits—its speed was.

Lu Ding stared at the creature clinging to the branch.

If he ignored its brutal nature and supernatural origins, it was actually… pretty damn cool.

Especially its enormous, glistening mandibles. Even under the moonlight, they gleamed menacingly.

If he could somehow bring this thing to an insect-fighting competition…

Who could possibly beat it?

Hell, there’d be no competition. Even if every contestant sent their bugs at once, they probably wouldn’t be enough to fill this thing’s stomach.

Too bad. It’s a supernatural beast.

And it showed up in front of me. That means it has to die.

A tense standoff.

Then—Lu Ding struck first.

A barrage of Slash Attacks erupted, engulfing the Flying Centipede’s entire ten-meter radius.

If it was fast, then he’d wipe out every possible escape route.

Carpet-bombing extermination.

The surrounding boulders and trees disintegrated into dust.

Within the storm of slashes, the Flying Centipede flitted through the gaps at incredible speeds, dodging each attack with uncanny precision.

Exactly as Lu Ding had hoped.

Caught you.

Planting his foot against a tree trunk, he applied force.

The trunk bent, forming a taut arc like a drawn bowstring.

Then—

He released.

The rebounding force catapulted him forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

BOOM!

With a single, crushing palm strike, he slammed into the Flying Centipede.

“Gotcha.”

In that instant—

Slash Attacks erupted from his palm.

One.

Ten.

A hundred—

A cacophony of metal clashing against metal echoed as his attacks battered the creature’s armor.

But its once-impenetrable exoskeleton shattered.

The now-exposed flesh was met with a relentless onslaught of slashes.

A shrill, ear-piercing screech tore through the night as the Flying Centipede was sliced apart mid-air.

By the time Lu Ding landed, his hands were coated in the insect’s blood and viscous bodily fluids.

Clutched between his fingers was a walnut-sized, pale green core.

The Flying Centipede’s inner core.

The primary ingredient for crafting the Wind-Fixing Pearl.

A mechanical voice echoed in his mind—

【Contained supernatural beast: Flying Centipede】

【Reward obtained: Wind-Fixing Art】

【Wind-Fixing Art: Can still roaring gales, calm raging seas, and grant flight across vast mountains and rivers.】

Wind-Fixing Art?

Lu Ding looked at the Flying Centipede’s inner core in his hand.

So… did this mean the Wind-Fixing Pearl he had gone through all this trouble for was now useless?

After all, an artifact could never compare to an ability.

Especially an ability granted by his golden finger—already at its maximum level.

Powerful, energy-efficient, and with zero risk of malfunction.

His feet slowly lifted off the ground.

A grin spread across Lu Ding’s face.

Who could resist the allure of flight?

Soaring through the skies and phasing through the earth—this was an instinctual, primal pursuit.

Before, he had been dissatisfied with his speed.

Now, with Wind-Fixing Art, his only weakness was gone.

Long-range? Close combat? Strength? Speed?

A fully balanced warrior—maxed-out stats across the board.

Even Lu Ding himself had no idea how powerful he had become.