Chapter 92: Disappearance, Gu Xu’s Reaction

The mutant snake seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then, surprisingly, it actually turned around and slithered away with stiff, awkward movements.

Bian Changxi realized—ah, it must have indigestion. Look at how slowly it’s crawling.

She was gasping for breath, on and off, as darkness closed in around her. Through the haze, she thought she heard Gu Xu’s voice, but she was just too tired, too cold, she couldn’t even lift her eyelids.

It felt like she’d arrived somewhere warm and comfortable. A gentle breeze brushed her face, sunlight shone on her body, and she closed her eyes, letting herself drift off to sleep without a care.

She didn’t know that, just a second after she lost consciousness, the “indigestion” mutant snake had its head blown apart by a blazing fireball. Someone plunged into the forest, found the shadow collapsed on the ground, and shouted, “Shadow! Shadow!”

He slapped his palm onto the ice, releasing a wave of warm flames that wrapped around Shadow’s entire body. In just a few blinks, all the ice on Shadow melted into water. Still frozen in a stiff posture, Shadow was jolted awake by the warmth. When he saw the person in front of him, he called out, “C-captain... Bian, Bian...”

His tongue was numb and stiff.

Gu Xu looked around, only to find three corpses—no sign of Bian Changxi. “Where’s Changxi? Where is she?”

Shadow’s eyes darted around as he struggled to prop himself up, but he didn’t see anything either. “She was just here, just a moment ago...”

He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, so he couldn’t tell what had happened after he passed out. Suddenly, his gaze fell on the mutant snake. It hadn’t slithered far at all. Its headless body lay there, belly grotesquely swollen, bulging in sickening lumps.

Gu Xu followed his gaze, his sharp, narrow eyes widening in shock.

“No...”

He sprang to his feet, nearly slipping. His face and body were covered in dried black blood, making him look terrifying. He gripped the straight blade he’d picked up earlier—Bian Changxi’s knife—hesitated for only a moment, then rushed up the slope and leapt to the mutant beast’s side. With one stroke, he chopped off the remaining bit of its head, then sliced open its belly.

Squelch!

A mass coated in mucus rolled out—a human body, the features still recognizable. It was the captain of the metal-ability police squad, but he was dead beyond any hope.

Gu Xu’s hands trembled violently.

He didn’t know exactly what had happened. He didn’t know if Bian Changxi had been eaten by the snake, but she shouldn’t have ended up here before the metal-ability man.

He stared at the next lump inside the snake’s belly with a terrifying expression.

Qiu Feng arrived with the others just in time to see Gu Xu butchering the snake in a gruesome frenzy. He glanced at Shadow, then at the three corpses—Boss Zhang and the others—then at the snake, instantly understanding, his eyes filling with disbelief.

He ordered someone to take care of Shadow, then ran over to Gu Xu. By then, the second lump had already rolled out—it was vaguely human-shaped, but only the skeleton suggested it had once been a man. The snake’s stomach acid had corroded it beyond recognition.

Even Qiu Feng felt his stomach churn with nausea.

The others were even more stunned, unable to utter a word. Some started retching uncontrollably.

“Ah Xu, stop—”

But Gu Xu seemed not to hear. He kept slashing, slicing the snake’s belly open even further. Acid splattered onto him, sizzling as it burned his clothes. The straight blade was already warped from the corrosion. Qiu Feng, alarmed, lunged to stop him. “Enough! It’s not her! It can’t be her! Didn’t you ask Shadow? What did he say?”

“Shadow was unconscious!”

“He coughed up a lot of black blood!”

“His back is a mess!”

Chaos erupted. Qiu Feng saw Gu Xu’s bloodshot eyes fixed on the lumps of flesh, his expression cold and eerily deranged. He looked possessed, and Qiu Feng couldn’t help but feel a chill of fear. He dragged Gu Xu back several steps. “Calm down! Have you searched the whole forest? Why are you digging through a snake’s belly?!” He turned to the others. “Go look for her!”

He ran over to check on Shadow.

While chaos reigned outside, Bian Changxi slept soundly on the damp earth.

She was in her farm space, on its black soil.

Next to her was a certain animal, round as a lump of coal.

The little cabbages and edamame plants swayed gently in the breeze, exuding a sense of joy. Suddenly, time seemed to freeze for a moment. Then, the crops lost their luster, withered rapidly, and turned to ash. The same happened to all the other plants.

In the blink of an eye, the pasture by the creek turned completely yellow, as if its vitality had been stripped away.

The ducks playing in the makeshift pen, the hens dutifully brooding on their eggs, and the rooster preening his colorful feathers—all fell silent, huddling on the ground and trembling with fear. The fish and shrimp in the stream scattered in panic, burrowing together at the bottom.

If you looked from above, you’d see countless green threads flowing and converging, streaming toward Bian Changxi and the coal-ball animal. Gradually, the two of them were enveloped in a gentle green light, obscuring the scene inside.

The surrounding mist closed in, the farm space shrinking, the sky lowering, until in the end, only these two clusters of green light remained in the world, rising and falling in rhythm, as if breathing, as if pulsing with life.

...

...

That was the best sleep she’d had in ages.

Bian Changxi thought groggily as she turned over and stretched comfortably.

Wait—she could move? She had strength again?

She froze, then opened her eyes.

When did she get into her farm space? Wait, was this really her farm? Why was it so small?!

She sat up with a start, arms stretched wide. Oh my god, the mist only covered an area about twice the length of her outstretched arms. The blue sky above was so low it felt like it could crush her, and the black earth beneath her looked dry and shrunken. The creek, which should have been nearby, was now just a puddle the size of a water basin. The pasture beyond—well, it was a patch of yellow grass no bigger than her palm, peeking out shyly.

She was bewildered. Was this really her farm space? Or had Shadow built a few walls of mist around her?

She cautiously reached out to poke the mist. It bounced her hand back softly.

That feeling—it was her farm. And right next to her was the makeshift chicken coop, crowded with terrified chickens and ducks staring at her.

Bian Changxi rubbed her forehead. What on earth had happened?

“Whimper...”

Something moved at her feet.

She looked down. A tiny pink creature was snuggled against her foot, rubbing its eyes with its little paws, blinking sleepily.

It tilted its head and stared at her for a moment, its confusion gradually turning to excitement. With a yelp, it tried to pounce on her.

But then it froze, as if realizing something shocking. It slowly lowered its head—what did it see? Its bare, hairless body?!

It howled in panic, but its voice was weak and feeble. In a flash, it darted behind the chicken coop.

Bian Changxi watched it curiously. This little thing wasn’t even the size of her palm. She asked uncertainly, “Milk? Is that you?”

How did it get so small? Wasn’t it supposed to be basketball-sized?

She quickly looked down at herself. Thank goodness, she wasn’t naked, nor had she shrunk.

She stood up and walked around. In the mist behind her, she saw a wooden door. She pushed it open—it was the storage room. Everything was still there. The farm had shrunk, but the storage room was unchanged. What a relief.

So this really was her farm, no doubt about it.

But she remembered—she hadn’t entered before passing out. Did the farm space pull her in when it sensed she was dying? Did it have that function?

She checked herself again. The serious wounds she’d had were now healed, though not completely. Her body, which had felt empty, now had energy flowing through it. She’d gone from near death to healthy, while the farm had shrunk. There must be some connection, right?

Wait, the energy in her body...

She held her breath and focused. Then, with a surge of excitement, she realized—she’d advanced a level!

Before she could savor the feeling, the little whimpering sound drew her attention back.

Right, she’d brought Milk in with her, so that little pink ball must be...

She crouched down and saw it curled up by the chicken coop, poking its little head out gloomily. When Bian Changxi leaned closer, it quickly pulled back.

“Oh my god, are you actually shy? Just because you lost your fur?”

“Whimper whimper whimper...” It protested her teasing.

Bian Changxi waved her hand. “Okay, okay, I won’t laugh at you.” She thought for a moment. “I remember you got completely roasted before, so your fur probably just fell off. It’ll grow back, right?” She wasn’t sure.

But fur could fall out, and skin could shed, but how did it change so much? Not only had it shrunk, but it didn’t even look like a mouse anymore—what animal did it resemble?

Bian Changxi thought for a long time but couldn’t figure it out. But since it was a spirit beast, it wasn’t that strange for it to have multiple forms. She’d just treat it as a shapeshifting spirit beast.

If she’d been wary or annoyed with it before, after it helped her fight Liu Meng and got itself roasted without letting go, all her misgivings had vanished. Now, she felt nothing but gratitude and affection.

So what if its origins were mysterious? It was willing to fight for her like that—that was enough.

Sensing the warmth and affection in her gaze, Milk’s tense skin relaxed. It whimpered pitifully, and when it brushed against a rough branch of the chicken coop, it left a bloody scratch.

“Oh no, you’re bleeding!” Bian Changxi hurried over to check. “Your new skin is way too delicate.”

She thought for a moment, then fetched a soft comforter from the storage room, made a fluffy nest by the chicken coop, and gently placed Milk in it. Then she tried to channel a bit of energy into her fingertips and brushed it over the scratch.

The bleeding stopped.

She looked at her fingers, feeling tears prick her eyes. Her wood ability was still there—thank goodness.

In her previous life, she’d lost her powers from overexertion, and could only maintain a level six ability, never advancing further. At first, she could barely use her powers at all, like a cripple.

She’d thought that even if she survived this time, she’d end up the same way. But not only had she survived, she’d advanced a level. It was a miracle.

Milk burrowed into the blanket, the soft fluff covering most of its body and giving it a sense of security. It peeked at her.

Bian Changxi smiled at it. “Are you hungry? I’ll get you something to eat. You’re not fully recovered yet—eat something and rest a bit more.”

She was starving, and still in pain, but with her second-tier powers, healing herself and Milk would be no problem. After that, she needed to go out and check the situation outside.

But first, she had to take a bath.

She glanced at the creek—now just a basin-sized puddle—and twitched her lips. Fine, she’d make do. If it had shrunk any smaller, she’d just have to stink."