Chapter 88: The Place of Mortal Evil (Part Two)

In the vast, snowy forest, a faint flicker of fire glimmered, standing out starkly amid the gloom and shadow. Figures moved through the trees, drawing swiftly near the firelight only to vanish just as quickly into the darkness.

Pandora leaned against a tree, fast asleep, but Ye Ran could not find rest. The cold wind bit through him, shadows danced beneath the trees, and the darkness draped itself like a curtain over the land. The small fire did little to dispel either the chill or the night. He sensed the bloodlust in countless eyes lurking in the distance—forest trolls, blood gnomes, wild beasts prowling, restless spirits roaming. More than once, he heard footsteps and sprang up, standing protectively before Pandora.

Yet the night passed without incident; the malice hidden in the shadows dared not attack. Ye Ran, exhausted, finally succumbed to sleep in the latter half of the night. Before closing his eyes, he glanced at Pandora, removed his fur cloak, and covered her with it, curling up beside her with his arms wrapped around himself.

“Foolish boy...” Pandora murmured, rubbing her eyes once he’d drifted off, then turned away and returned to sleep.

When morning came, Ye Ran awoke to warmth. Looking down, he saw both his own fur cloak and Pandora’s long otter coat covering him. “Kid, eat something,” Pandora said, somehow producing a deer and some pastries. Only when he saw the magical box in her hand did he realize how she’d acquired them.

“Put it on, it’s cold here,” Ye Ran said, handing her the otter coat and slipping on his black cloak.

Pandora gave him a meaningful look, draping the otter coat over her shoulders. She was about to speak when a long whistle shattered the calm of the forest.

A chorus of strange cries followed, accompanied by the chaotic sound of running feet. In the distance, trees fell one after another, their thunderous collapse echoing through the woods.

Pandora seemed unimpressed, taking small bites of her pastry and stirring the crimson liquid in her cup with a spoon. Ye Ran, however, leapt into the branches, scanning the horizon warily.

He saw, from afar, a band of barbarians wielding stone knives and axes charging into the blood gnome encampment. Their skin was bronze, their bodies towering and robust, their clothes ragged, exuding a wildness closer to beasts than to men. Their faces were fierce, their eyes murderous.

The blood gnomes, caught unawares in their sleep, were slaughtered mercilessly. Though savage and brutal, the blood gnomes were weak in battle and quickly routed by the barbarians. The unlucky ones were decapitated, their heads kicked about like balls, corpses mounted on spears.

Soon, a troll emerged from the depths of the forest, but the barbarians fought with terrifying strength. Within minutes, three of them brought the creature down with a flurry of spears.

The barbarians, victorious and laden with spoils, did not depart immediately. Instead, they kindled a fire, skewered the torn limbs of blood gnomes and the troll, roasting them over the flames and feasting on the spot.

Ye Ran watched, his heart heavy with gloom.

“Kid, do you still have the appetite for breakfast?” Pandora’s voice drifted up from below.

Ye Ran nodded and leapt down from the tree. Pandora poured him a cup of tea from her magical box. He ate in silence, his mood somber.

Pandora laughed. “In the future, you’d best avoid such sights—they’re hardly suitable for children. You, pure and kind as an angel.”

Ye Ran ignored her jest, suddenly asking, “Pandora, they say you were created by the gods.”

He expected her to be offended, but she smiled enchantingly. “That’s right. The gods created me. They bestowed upon me the power to grow. Venus granted me beauty and allure. I am their most perfect creation.”

“Then why did you become a demon?” Ye Ran pressed.

Pandora blinked and smiled. “Kid, do you think the gods are nobler than demons?”

Ye Ran frowned and shook his head. “Pandora, before I left the Fortress of Desolation and entered the Westlands, I didn’t understand why the sentinels hated trolls, blood gnomes, and barbarians so much. I believed every race deserved a place in the fertile lands—Stormflow City shouldn’t discriminate.”

Pandora asked with interest, “Oh? And now?”

“Now, if I were a sentinel, I’d never let a blood gnome or troll cross the wall. The cold, bleak, and harsh Westlands are their rightful home. Comfort, bustling streets, and fertile soil are not for races who live by slaughter and take pleasure in killing.”

Ye Ran’s words were chilling.

Pandora laughed. “Kid, you’re so naïve. Who says they want to live by slaughter and hunting? If they lived in Stormflow City, they could enjoy the same life as you.”

“Is that so?” Ye Ran sneered. “Five thousand years ago, Stormflow City was a battlefield of a hundred races—a land of ruins. The humans of the Westlands migrated there to escape the evil races. Now, five thousand years later, the ancient battlefield has become a grand, thriving city. The Westlands remain unchanged. Humans enjoy prosperity and the gods’ gifts through their labor, while the evil races still eat raw flesh, live by killing and hunting, and endure the harsh weather.”

“Every race chooses its own path. I refuse to believe that killing is the only way to survive here.”

He stood, extinguished the fire with earth, and looked at the dispersing barbarians. “No past or reason justifies evil. I detest needless bloodshed and wickedness.”

“I hope, after witnessing all the world’s evil and hypocrisy, you can still speak so righteously,” Pandora said, tidying her hair and tightening her coat. She floated lightly into the air. In the distance, several demons with fleshy wings flashed through the blizzard.

Ye Ran, empowered by his wind magic, leapt into the branches. From above, he surveyed the Westlands—a white expanse where battles between races erupted, beasts fought over prey, the landscape savage and cruel.

They hurried through the forest, crossed an iron-clad icy river, and finally approached the Dead Mountain of Ethel.

The snow-capped mountains rose in the distance, peaks piled high and chaotic. Even before crossing the frozen river, Ye Ran heard the roars from the mountains, and sensed several familiar presences—the insect clans, the golden-headed centipede, the giant millipede, and the purple-haired woman. Their auras were much weaker now.

“Corpses…”

Across the endless frozen river, bodies were strewn everywhere. Blood and corpses alike had become crimson ice.