First do this, then do that, and then do this...

Chen Yu put down the talisman brush and picked up the messy, barely-legible talisman on the desk, its cinnabar ink still wet.

Great, this way he obtained a failed talisman.

"As expected, drawing talismans isn't that easy."

He crumpled this failed talisman that cost ten Broken Spirit Stones into a ball and threw it to the ground, where it rolled a few circles and joined its yellow paper ball predecessors in the same corner.

Just this pile of failed products on the ground was worth five or six spirit stones, all now turned into worthless scraps.

No wonder that among the four cultivation arts, talisman drawing—though the easiest to begin—still had very few practicing cultivators.

If one kept failing like this, who knew what year or month they'd finally succeed.

Whatever, anyway this master has money.

Chen Yu calmed his breathing and focused his spirit, pulled out a yellow talisman paper and pressed it under the paperweight, ground the cinnabar spiritual ink, dipped the brush in ink, and began drawing.

After failing several more times in succession, just as the yellow talisman paper was about to run out, the talisman under his brush suddenly emitted spiritual light. The spiritual ink characters completely fused with the yellow talisman paper, and just like that, a Rocksteady Talisman was completed.

[Talisman Drawing Technique Lv.1]

"Oh, I didn't expect I'd be quite talented at drawing talismans."

Chen Yu picked up the Rocksteady Talisman and examined it repeatedly, extremely satisfied.

Although the quality of the completed talisman was quite ordinary, this was undoubtedly a very good start.

Chen Yu flipped through the Talisman Book.

The Talisman Book didn't record many talisman diagrams, only Rocksteady and Stone Pile—one could be used to defend against swords, clubs, and magical attacks, while the other was simply throwing stones, plain and simple.

The Talisman Drawing Technique only related to the skill of drawing talismans. When drawing different talismans, he still needed to practice the talisman diagrams. He currently only knew how to draw the Rocksteady Talisman; as for the Stone Pile Talisman, he still needed practice to master it.

Now that the Talisman Drawing Technique had been achieved, Chen Yu couldn't wait to immerse his consciousness back into the swamp forest.

Central Tree Area, the Slime that had been standing motionless for a long time blinked and his body bounced back to three-dimensional form.

He bypassed the Little Ones playing and roughhousing around him and came to a clearing.

Two Poison-stinger Wasps clutching a large leaf flew down from the tree and landed steadily in front of Chen Yu.

Previously, he had considered what could replace the necessary materials for drawing talismans if he tried to do it in Zeyarila.

Talisman brush?

The Poison-stinger Wasps' stingers could barely substitute, but the talismans drawn would be unattractive with a higher failure rate.

Talisman paper?

Theoretically using leaves wasn't impossible, but only if he processed them with spiritual energy first, then the leaves could barely serve as talisman paper.

As for talisman ink... he really couldn't think of anything here that could replace talisman ink.

Talisman ink wasn't something you could just pick any ink and use—it needed to be ground from rare spiritual treasures.

Did Zeyarila have such rare spiritual treasures?

He didn't know.

Anyway, he hadn't seen any.

With such thin spiritual energy, even cultivation was quite difficult, let alone the ground growing spiritual herbs.

If he had hands, Chen Yu really wanted to pat his troubled gel head.

Indeed, drawing talismans in Zeyarila wasn't as simple as he thought—just gathering the materials was impossible.

Since talisman drawing wasn't working, he could only temporarily set it aside.

Chen Yu bounced around and turned, his round eyes looking toward the depths of the swamp.

The magical creatures here had basically been all hunted by him, but most magical creatures with magic organs had chosen Toxin Resistance as their talent.

He had eaten until full in the Smooth Wasp Route, forcibly raising his Toxin Resistance to nearly Lv.3.

If he wanted to hunt magical creatures with different talents, he'd probably need to explore deeper into the swamp and challenge the terrifying, horrifying beings in the darkness.

The swamp depths were territory never before tread by anyone, and he didn't know what was inside either—he could only take it one step at a time.

But powerful also meant they'd be chewy.

There should be many delicious magical creatures inside...

Chen Yu assembled an army of thirty Poison-stinger Wasps, originally planning to explore deeper into the swamp before nightfall.

But at that moment, a Poison-stinger Wasp flew back from outside the territory, landed on the ground, respectfully lowered its head and pressed its limbs against the gel.

"...Forest route... human... death..."

"Human?"

"Have humans invaded the swamp?"

Humans coming to the swamp was definitely a serious matter.

Huh?

Wait... could it be that human who survived the tribal conflict before?

Why did he come here?

Chen Yu decided to follow the Poison-stinger Wasp to see what was really going on.

......

Swamp forest route.

Arno Belmont was practically using his body to crash through the hanging vines ahead, desperately gripping an oak tree to stabilize his teetering body.

The Petrification Disease was acting up again!

The piercing cold had long penetrated his bones, like countless tiny, cold stone needles drilling through his blood vessels, mercilessly carving his flesh.

Every breath tugged at the sharp pain deep in his chest. The right side of his body had completely lost sensation, leaving only the bone-deep cold and stiffness.

"Damn it! Goddamn it!"

Arno squeezed out a hoarse curse through gritted teeth, the target of this curse being both the petrification curse flowing in his bloodline and those gray-scaled Lizardfolk who had driven him into this desperate situation.

Those gray-scaled Lizardfolk had discovered him.

And he became prey.

The instinct for survival overwhelmed the sluggishness brought by the Petrification Disease. He turned and ran, fleeing blindly.

Like a driven rabbit, he plunged headfirst into this deeper, more dangerous primal forest depths.

Thorns tore at his clothes and skin, mud repeatedly trying to swallow him.

Just as he was almost exhausted and ready to give up resistance, he stumbled into a strange forest route.

This forest route was unusually "clean."

No lurking poisonous insects, no watching animal eyes, even the rotting leaf layer underfoot seemed much thinner.

Some invisible taboo power kept the forest's dangerous inhabitants away from here.

This bizarre forest route had actually become his only path to survival in his desperate escape—at least temporarily preserving his life, not letting him immediately become food for swamp monsters or Lizardfolk.

However, this temporary respite ultimately couldn't withstand the curse raging within him.

"Ugh—!"

An unprecedented wave of intense pain surged!

Arno could no longer hold on, his knees weakened, and he heavily knelt on the cold, slippery moss ground.

He hunched over like a cooked shrimp, his violent panting turning into painful whimpers.

Darkness began to erode from all directions, the intense pain tearing at his nerves, despair devouring his will.

As his consciousness was about to collapse, in his daze, he saw a warm light in the darkness.

It was the orange-yellow flame of a warm fireplace.

Flickering, it illuminated a dining table covered with a clean linen tablecloth, the air filled with the aroma of baked bread and stewed meat.

He seemed to have returned to that warm home.

Lola's golden hair was tied up, revealing her gentle profile as she carefully cut a piece of well-stewed meat into small pieces to feed their little daughter sitting in a high chair.

Their son excitedly waved a wooden sword, imitating the knight stories his father told, running around the table, bumping into chairs, making Lola scold him with a laugh.

Back then, he wore simple but neat home clothes, sitting in the main seat, holding a cup of warm mead, watching everything before him, his tired heart filled with a heavy, warm current called "home."

Lola occasionally looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with dependence and love...

How long ago was that? That warmth, that peace, that feeling of being needed...

"Lola... children..."

He murmured unconsciously, his cold body seeming to feel a trace of illusory warmth.

But this warmth vanished in an instant, as if snatched away by an invisible giant hand! The cold reality and piercing pain dragged him back to the hellish swamp.

The fireplace flames extinguished, the food aroma turned into the stench of rotting leaves, his wife's laughter and children's noise were replaced by deathly silence.

He seemed to be completely abandoned by that warm illusion, falling alone into the bottomless dark abyss.

Just as he was about to be completely swallowed by darkness in the final moment.

In his blurred vision, the thick, impenetrable fog ahead in the forest route seemed to writhe.

A shadow silently condensed and rose, its outline appearing exceptionally sinister in the distorted fog and mottled light.

It looked... like a twisted human form, yet definitely not human.

Its surface seemed to constantly squirm and flow, as if covered by a bottomless dark sludge, or like countless tiny maggots madly swarming.

A few sharp protrusions were faintly visible, like demon horns or claws, flickering in and out of the fog.

Most heart-palpitating was its "head" position—two eerie green, completely temperatureless cold lights, like eyes peering at prey from the abyss, firmly locked onto him!

It was a demon!

Arno's remaining reason was instantly swallowed by fear.

No! He couldn't die! Lola was still waiting for him! The children were still waiting for him!

He had promised to bring money back!

Even if he had to sell his soul to a demon... even if he had to fall into the deepest hell... as long as... as long as he could see them one more time!

The will to survive burst forth with a final surge of power like a last radiance.

Using all his strength, he reached toward that sinister, terrifying figure in the fog, touched the black sludge, and hoarsely squeezed out broken pleas:

"Save... save me... whoever... you are... demon... fine too... soul... my soul... take it! Save me!"

The eerie green light points flickered slightly, as if examining this humble desperate stone sacrifice before them.

The viscous dark silhouette silently "flowed" forward one step.