Chapter Seventy-Six: A Battle of Wits and Courage Against the Air

The pill melted instantly upon entering the mouth, yet did not completely vanish. Even Chen Qi, who was not yet able to perform internal viewing, could clearly feel that something had been added inside his body.

This something was difficult to describe; rather than a thing, it was more like a cluster of energy.

It swept through Chen Qi’s body, stimulating his pores to involuntarily open, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Not only that, as Chen Qi gazed at his damaged left palm, where there was an egg-sized hole, he saw new flesh buds slowly growing, repairing the massive wound.

This healing process was not painful; on the contrary, Chen Qi found himself irresistibly drawn to it.

It was a wondrous sensation, like returning to his mother’s womb—warm, peaceful, gently swaying.

Deep inside, Chen Qi kept telling himself this was not the time to indulge in the feeling, forcibly maintaining his composure.

At this moment, his body, long holding its breath, finally felt strangulation approaching, and he could no longer hold back from breathing.

A wisp of faint black toxic miasma entered Chen Qi’s body through his nostrils, penetrating deeply into his lungs, attempting to spread rapidly.

But soon, this toxic miasma, as if encountering its natural enemy, quickly wilted and dissipated.

Everything happened so silently, as if nothing had occurred.

The sequence of changes following the medicine took only seconds. Seeing that he was out of Zhao Fan’s sight, Chen Qi suddenly changed his body’s direction.

What had been east now abruptly shifted to north!

This change was naturally meant to confuse Zhao Fan, preventing him from tracking Chen Qi’s escape route, but more importantly, it was for that treasure chest Chen Qi couldn’t stop thinking about!

He needed to return to where that chest was.

This was also because, after witnessing Zhao Fan’s ruthless methods, Chen Qi believed the long-snouted horned crocodile would inevitably perish at Zhao Fan’s hands.

After breathing, Chen Qi felt invigorated, each stride covering nearly ten meters.

After several dozen breaths, he sensed the ‘Budding Space’ message arriving, causing him to halt suddenly.

[You have completed the beheading task: Master of the Black Poison Swamp]

[Hint: The task reward is in the beheading treasure chest; please claim it yourself.]

“He’s so fast!”

Although Chen Qi already knew in his heart that the crocodile beast could not stop Zhao Fan, he hadn’t expected that this strongest of the swamp’s beasts would only hold out for a few dozen breaths.

Or rather, he had underestimated Zhao Fan’s desperate determination at this moment.

Glancing anxiously behind him, Chen Qi dared not linger. Taking advantage of the medicine’s protection on his internal organs, he breathed again.

With this sharp exhale, he accelerated once more, leaving ripples on the tranquil toxic swamp.

“Hopefully, that blue-haired big dog’s death means that person won’t find me.”

While running at full speed, Chen Qi harbored a faint hope, an involuntary thought.

...

Atop the Miasma Demon Mountain, inside a basin cave.

A sword-browed disciple of the Inner Sect lay weakly on the ground, breathing heavily, his face returning to a pale shade.

Just moments ago, relying on the medicinal power of the Phoenix Blood Bell Milk within his body, he had finally withstood the torrential assault of the noble youth opposite him.

However, the round-faced woman accompanying him had still not come to aid.

Damn it! She was clearly at a higher realm than the opponent...

“You’re not bad! You’re worthy of knowing my name.”

A cold voice suddenly sounded, each word imbued with internal force, echoing throughout the cavern.

The noble youth brushed his left hand over a bleeding sword scar on his face, the other pressing against his chest.

His garment at the chest was torn to rags; near the right side of his chest was a bleeding hole with a sharp sword embedded in it.

The hilt of the sword was intricately carved with cloud patterns, the tassel a verdant blue, marking it as a standard issue sword of the Cloud Sea Sect’s Inner Disciples.

At this moment, the noble youth firmly clutched the blade with two fingers, preventing it from moving further inward.

The distance between the sword’s edge and the noble youth’s heart was less than three inches.

These three inches represented the boundary between great realms—or perhaps between life and death...

The noble youth stepped closer, spitting out another sentence:

“Remember, the one who kills you is Yang He Cun, eldest son of the Marquis of Cloud Mountain!”

As soon as the words fell, his left hand that had touched his face stabbed out, fingertips releasing a condensed pale yellow energy wave that shot toward the handsome Inner Disciple’s head on the ground.

At that moment, disordered footsteps of a woman sounded from the side.

The sudden arrival of the footsteps made Yang He Cun instantly alert, his stabbing left hand frozen for a brief moment.

The handsome Inner Disciple on the ground, eyes wide awaiting death, seized the chance to roll aside, narrowly avoiding the energy wave just inches away.

“Bang!”

The energy wave missed, leaving several deep impressions over ten inches into the earth.

Yang He Cun slightly turned his head, a cruelly mocking smile curling at his lips...

Elsewhere in the vast toxic swamp of Miasma Demon Mountain.

A figure racing swiftly began to slow, residual momentum splashing mud beneath his feet.

The youth stopped, bending slightly, raising both hands to grasp at seeming emptiness.

Of course, in Chen Qi’s unique vision, the emptiness was actually the lid of a huge treasure chest, engraved with a blood-red skull, its bloody scent invading his nostrils, causing slight discomfort.

At this moment, the runes sealing the beheading treasure chest all dimmed; the lid showed signs of flipping open, as if it could be lifted with a slight touch.

With great anticipation, Chen Qi pressed hard with both hands. The lid opened with a creak.

Inside the chest was a sight completely unexpected to Chen Qi—most of the table-sized chest was empty, with only two items resting in the center.

On the left lay a scroll depicting six ferocious beasts encountered in the beheading task. The beast images were lifelike and vivid, their expressions clear, set against the background of the swamp itself.

On the right was a glass bottle containing a deep black medicinal liquid emanating a strange magical aura that irresistibly drew Chen Qi’s gaze.

Staring at the oil-like liquid, Chen Qi’s vision blurred slightly, as if he could see endless toxic miasma and countless poisonous insects breeding in the swamp.

As his vision shifted away, the hallucination vanished. Chen Qi smoothly stored the treasures in his storage space.

Within the storage space, both items glowed with purple light—the scroll’s glow was deeper, a blackish purple, while the bottle’s hue was lighter, a faint violet.

Before he could examine their properties, Chen Qi sprang up, maintaining his rapid pace.

As he expected, Zhao Fan, having lost the blue-haired big dog, had not found him—or perhaps had gone after Sun Ruohai?

But rationally speaking, the probability of Zhao Fan guarding the swamp’s exit was not low!

Thinking of this, fearing Zhao Fan might lie in wait at the swamp’s eastern exit, Chen Qi immediately abandoned that route and chose the western path instead.

The west led to the heart of the toxic swamp, teeming with countless poisonous insects. Even though the strongest had been slain, their overwhelming numbers would provide Chen Qi with ample cover.

After walking westward for more than ten minutes, Chen Qi stopped again.

This was the very center of the swamp, the place where he and his team had passed when climbing the mountain.

Along the way, Chen Qi had evaded three poisonous needles, over ten venomous darts, and several colorful venomous snakes slithering near his feet.

The swamp before him appeared calm, but having experienced it once, Chen Qi saw it was a deliberate silence.

So deliberate that even the bubbling and bursting sounds of toxic miasma rising from the mud had become extremely sparse!

Chen Qi pondered briefly, then changed direction once more.

It wasn’t fear of the poisonous insects. With his current ability to breathe, facing a swarm without a powerful beast leader, he could fight his way through.

But since he could break through by brute force, the hunter pursuing him—Zhao Fan—might also think like him, using reverse logic.

His reverse logic told him that no matter where Zhao Fan pursued, one thing was certain: Zhao Fan would have to leave his original position.

Therefore, twenty minutes from now, heading proactively toward the place where the big dog died was the safest choice.

Only one scenario would lead to discovery—running headlong into Zhao Fan himself.

But the odds of that were minuscule: the thick fog hadn’t lifted, and given the swamp’s vastness and the choking toxic miasma, barring fate’s coincidence, it was nearly impossible.

Without hesitation, Chen Qi breathed deeply, gradually increasing his speed to full, running southeast—the direction where he had fought the poisonous toad beast. He intended to leave the toxic swamp from there and escape to safety...

Elsewhere in the vast toxic swamp of Miasma Demon Mountain.

Zhao Fan’s condition was far worse than Chen Qi had imagined!