On the banks of Reed River stood the camp of the Rotten Moss Tribe. Green-scaled figures moved through the reeds, spearing fish or spreading fishing nets, dried meat, and medicinal herbs and mosses with a bitter fragrance along the shore to dry.

During this perfectly ordinary afternoon, the arrival of a merchant shattered the tribe's tranquility.

Lizardfolk of all sizes gathered from their green huts, drying racks, or beneath the shade of trees, their amber vertical pupils curiously examining the human merchant who had entered their tribe.

Excited younglings peeked around the wagon wheels, emitting soft hissing sounds, only to be quietly scolded by the adult lizardfolk.

Though the scene appeared primitive and rugged, it carried a unique tribal vitality that was somewhat boisterous.

However, the faint sounds coming from the center of the crowd didn't seem quite harmonious, more like an argument was taking place.

Sekashi had been observing newly dried medicinal herbs with her sister Semiaya at a distance when the commotion from the camp caught their attention. Curious, she stood on her toes to peer at the human figure who seemed so out of place at the crowd's center.

"What's happening, sister?" Sekashi whispered.

Semiaya's amber vertical pupils scanned the crowd, then she simply shook her head slightly, indicating Sekashi should go see for herself.

Sekashi squeezed through the circle of lizardfolk, attempting to ask a young warrior nearby.

The young lizardfolk glanced at her, recognized her as the outsider's sister, then turned away, clearly unwilling to engage with her.

Old Shazak noticed the commotion nearby and cleared his throat lightly, reprimanding the young lizardfolk for his rudeness.

"Show proper respect to Shaman Sekashi."

Then he turned to the sisters, his tail giving a light tap on the ground as a form of greeting.

"This human merchant."

Shazak looked toward Yano.

"He says he wants to go to a... 'forest path that magical creatures dare not approach'."

"We've lived in these swamps for dozens of rainy seasons, familiar with every puddle and ancient tree, yet we've never known of such a path."

"I believe Mr. Yano must have misunderstood something."

The speaker may have been unintentional, but the listener was definitely intentional.

Nearby, Sekashi's mind began working actively.

A forest path? That magical creatures dare not approach?

This description... wasn't that exactly the Smooth Wasp Route that the Envoy had opened?

This human knew about that path—could he be connected to the Envoy?

Meanwhile, Yano felt a headache beginning to throb faintly, sweat trickling down his temples—half from the swamp's oppressive heat, half from anxiety.

He gestured earnestly, trying to describe the path's characteristics—clean, free of magical creatures, leading deep into the swamp—but his pitiful vocabulary of lizardfolk language, learned through last-minute cramming, was woefully inadequate, and his pronunciation was downright bizarre.

Old Shazak and the surrounding lizardfolk listened with blank expressions, and a few younger ones couldn't help but snicker.

The communication gap felt like an insurmountable chasm; he felt like a fool trying to explain the sky to fish.

"These lizardfolk don't know about that forest path? What kind of joke is this."

He didn't know the swamp's routes himself—without a map, he couldn't possibly find that forest path—and could only explain fruitlessly, over and over again.

Sekashi's gaze lingered on the anxious human merchant.

She keenly noticed that despite his awkward situation, his eyes lacked the contempt or calculation she was accustomed to seeing in human merchants' gazes.

There was only anxiety and a certain... restrained attempt at politeness?

Was it because the Rotten Moss Tribe had saved him? Or... because of the Envoy's influence, had he developed a different attitude toward lizardfolk?

A thought quickly formed in her mind.

She inconspicuously retreated to the edge of the crowd and quickly pulled a crude map from her small leather pouch—a waterproof, oil-tanned map marking the tribe's general hunting grounds and water sources.

Carefully, she wrapped a pigeon-egg-sized Gray Gravel Crystal with the map, then tucked it into a gap between sacks at the edge of the wagon bed.

...

An hour later.

Yano had left the noisy but relatively safe boundaries of the Rotten Moss Tribe, venturing deep into the dark, humid swamp forest.

The closer he got to the area from his memory, the more tense his heartbeat became.

He couldn't help but recall that silhouette flowing with darkness in the mist, those emotionless ghostly green "eyes".

By actively delivering himself this time... what awaited him?

To dispel the faint fear in his heart, he subconsciously reached into his chest pocket.

There lay something he had accidentally discovered while organizing his goods—a crude lizardfolk map, and wrapped within it, a cold, hard Gray Gravel Crystal.

He spread the map on the wooden chest in his arms, carefully identifying the direction of the forest path marked on it by the faint forest light.

An unexplained suspicion arose in his heart.

Who had given him the map?

Could there be followers of that demon within the Rotten Moss Tribe too?

He felt as though he was being watched, and any lingering hope in his mind vanished like smoke.

He tried hard to calm himself.

Yano, it's nothing, just making a deal with a demon.

Nothing to fear...

Well, this reassurance not only had no effect but instead made his heart feel heavier.

He felt like a wild boar actively charging into a roasting oven, contemplating how to roast its thick fat until it sizzled, golden and dripping with oil, just to satisfy the demon's abyss-like greedy appetite.

His thoughts churned madly with fear, yet his feet had mechanically carried him to the end of the forest path.

Ahead, poisonous fog so thick it seemed impenetrable had completely swallowed the road.

He tentatively stepped forward, wanting to penetrate this suffocating barrier, but each time he lifted his leg, he found himself back where he started.

Yano stood frozen stiff, his very marrow seeping with fear of the demon. Finally, a thought so utterly insane even he found it mad gained the upper hand.

Call out.

He was actually going to personally summon that infernal presence right before his eyes!

"Great Master of the Swamp! Your... your humble servant... has brought... an offering for you."

Yano's voice was hoarse, trembling as it echoed through the forest.

Before his words had even faded, immense regret surged through him. He wanted to flee, to retract this fatal invitation, but his feet felt rooted to the spot.

Too late!

From deep within the thick fog, an overwhelmingly oppressive silhouette abruptly manifested!

It carried with it the accumulated decay from the swamp's depths and a nauseating aura of fear, piercing through the mist as it approached.

Yano's heart nearly slammed out of his chest!

He stared fixedly at the approaching shadow, his mind conjuring images of the demon's ferocious appearance—muscles bulging grotesquely, head adorned with twisted horns, crimson eyes burning with evil flames that could ensnare souls, each step should make the earth tremble...

The shadow swelled rapidly in his vision, its outline growing clearer and clearer. Fear and despair climbed to their peak—he could almost smell the imagined mixture of sulfur and blood, the scent of death!

The thick fog was violently torn open by some force, and the figure brewing ultimate terror finally stepped out completely...

A soft, translucent, jelly-like wobbling mass...

...Slime?

Huh?!

...

Chen Yu had been somewhat troubled recently.

He had discovered some corrupted swamp crocodiles deep in the swamp.

It seemed the power that fascinated the lizardfolk originated from the swamp's depths.

Which meant his territory was surrounded by those fanatical corrupted believers.

All it would take was one heavy rainstorm, or one opportunity, and the corrupted magical creatures from the swamp's depths would swarm out, joining the corrupted demi-humans outside to occupy the entire swamp.

They would push him, the swamp overlord who hadn't even been in position for long, down from his high position.

Overlord struggles had always been like this.

Who would have thought these corrupted believers could harbor so many evil intentions too.

To defend his position, he had to strike back hard, repelling these presumptuous invaders.

He had been racking his brains how to teach them a lesson when a figure emerged from the swamp's poisonous mist.

It was Yano, returning.