Legend of the Divine Archer

The ground was soft underfoot, covered in a bed of what felt like moss, though it exuded a faint hum of energy that suggested it was far more than just plant matter. The trees themselves were towering, their trunks smooth and cool to the touch, as if they were carved from some kind of living stone.

Their bark pulsed gently beneath his fingertips, like the slow heartbeat of an ancient, slumbering creature.

Though Yan Jin couldn\'t see them, he could hear the faint rustling of leaves above him, their delicate motion creating a soft, almost musical whisper. A strange kind of breeze stirred through the trees, though where the wind could come from in such a deep, enclosed place was beyond comprehension.

He could feel the cold of the air against his skin, almost biting in its intensity, though not uncomfortable. It was the kind of cold that awakened the senses, sharp and invigorating.

There was moisture in the air, the scent of damp earth and frost clinging to everything. The temperature felt colder here than anywhere else in the labyrinth, but it wasn\'t just a physical coldness. There was a deep, ancient energy that permeated the space, like the presence of an old and wise being watching over the forest.

The chill seemed to seep into his bones, not in a way that threatened to freeze him but in a way that made him more aware of his body and surroundings.

Yan Jin, weary from constant vigilance, let out a long, relieved breath as he walked further into the forest. His shoulders sagged slightly as the tension began to ease from his muscles. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn\'t being hunted. The plasma cells, which had been relentlessly attacking him at every turn, seemed to avoid this place.

He hadn\'t encountered a single one since stepping into the forest.

The silence here was different—deep and tranquil, the kind of quiet that didn\'t feel empty but rather full, as though the forest itself was alive and humming with ancient power. Yan Jin could feel it in the air, the sensation that the very ground beneath his feet was steeped in something primordial and unspoken.

Exhaustion finally caught up with him. Yan Jin\'s body felt heavy, his limbs aching from the days of constant combat and alertness. His heart was still racing from the adrenaline, but here in this sanctuary, he felt safe enough to relax. He sat down beneath one of the larger trees, leaning against its solid trunk. The bark was smooth, almost like polished stone, and cool to the touch.

He let his head rest against it, the sensation strangely comforting.

But as Yan Jin collected himself, his thoughts returned to the battle with the corrupted guardian. The beast had been a fearsome opponent, one of pure malice and dark energy. Defeating it had taken everything he had, but it was not without reward.

Just like the plasma cells before, the corrupted guardian had dissolved into shimmering light upon its defeat, leaving behind a concentrated ball of energy. This time, however, the energy was different—denser, darker, more potent.

As Yan Jin reached out and absorbed the energy into his body, he was hit with a second vision. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt himself transported into the mind of the Garuda once more. But this time, the vision was different. He was not soaring through the skies, free and powerful. Instead, he was locked in battle.

The world around him was a blur of chaos and ice, and he could feel the sharp sting of pain as a javelin pierced through his flesh.

Through the Garuda\'s eyes, Yan Jin saw the javelin\'s owner—a figure shrouded in shadows, exuding a terrifying power. The force behind the throw had been immense, enough to bring down the celestial beast. It was a throw that travelled through space and time. And yet, in those final moments, the Garuda had not felt fear—it had felt defiance, rage, and an overwhelming desire for vengeance.

The vision faded, leaving Yan Jin standing alone in the dark cave. His breathing had quickened, and his hands shook slightly from the intensity of the memory.

As Yan Jin rested, his senses opened to the magic of the forest around him. The hum of energy in the trees and the soft whisper of the leaves above felt almost like a lullaby. Despite the cold, there was warmth in the knowledge that this place was untouched by the horrors of the labyrinth, a hidden sanctuary amidst the chaos.

For the first time since entering the forest, Yan Jin heard a noise, the unmistakable sound of a human voice, distant yet clear. Instinctively, he retreated into the shadows, moving quietly behind the trees to hide his presence. His sharp ears caught fragments of a conversation, and he focused intently, trying to piece together what was happening.

"Even if you kill me, you won\'t escape the Plasma Century," came the voice of a young man, hoarse and broken, filled with desperation and defiance. The sound of labored breathing followed, and Yan Jin imagined the speaker lying down, too weak to stand. He could smell the thick, metallic scent of blood in the air, and the faint echoes of pain clung to the young man\'s voice like a fog.

The speaker lay sprawled on the cold ground, his body covered in deep wounds, barely clinging to life. Around him lay the bodies of at least a dozen other fallen participants, their forms motionless and soaked in blood. Each one was pale, drained of life, like empty vessels.

Above the wounded man stood another figure, his aura thick with the stench of corruption. His eyes gleamed with malevolence, and the blood energy around him swirled in a sickening dance. Yan Jin\'s heart sank as he recognized the familiar, twisted energy that clung to the attacker—he was a blood thrall, just like Yan Li. It was unmistakable now.

The corrupt blood energy from the dark arts of the blood witchcraft had infiltrated even the trials. These people had no business being here; they were not participants—they were predators.

"It doesn\'t matter," the second man replied, his voice dripping with cruel indifference. He raised his sword high above his head, preparing to deliver the final blow. "I just need enough blood to complete the sacrifice. Once that\'s done, I\'ll pass the trial."

There was a hunger in the man\'s eyes, a deep, consuming greed for power, and the faint red hue that surrounded him only intensified as the blood sacrifice drew near. Yan Jin\'s mind raced, the vile intent clear. This wasn\'t a trial to the blood thralls—it was a massacre. They were using the bodies of the fallen to fuel their dark rituals.

The moment the sword began to fall, Yan Jin moved. His bow was already in his hands, and in one fluid motion, he drew an arrow, hooking it in place with the speed of a seasoned hunter. His fingers released, and the arrow flew silently through the cold air.

It sliced through the space between them with lethal precision, embedding itself deep in the back of the blood thrall\'s neck just before the sword could land on its victim.

The blood thrall gasped, his eyes going wide in shock as the arrow protruded from his throat. His body jerked, the corrupted blood energy flaring for a moment before flickering out. He staggered back, but before he could fully register what had happened, another arrow found its mark.

Yan Jin did not stop with one shot—another arrow followed, and another, each one piercing the thrall\'s body with deadly accuracy. Blood sprayed from the wounds as the man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The entire encounter lasted mere seconds, but it was enough to silence the cursed aura that had filled the area. The corrupt blood energy dissipated into nothingness, leaving only the faint smell of decay and the quiet whimpering of the surviving victim.

Yan Jin stood still for a moment, his senses heightened, listening for any signs of movement, any indication that more blood thralls might be lurking nearby. But there was nothing. Just silence, save for the shallow breaths of the wounded man on the ground.

Yan Jin approached cautiously, his bow still at the ready. The survivor lay on his side, his face pale and slick with sweat, his chest heaving with the effort to stay alive. His body was covered in deep, jagged cuts, and the blood loss had clearly taken its toll.

"Who are you?" the young man croaked, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to push himself up.

Yan Jin, bow drawn and his senses razor-sharp, confronted the dying blood trall, his voice steady despite the tension. "How did blood tralls get into the trials?" he demanded, his tone carrying the weight of authority.

The blood trall, gasping and spitting blood, glared at Yan Jin with a mixture of defiance and despair. "We are here to complete the blood sacrifice," he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What blood sacrifice?" Yan Jin pressed, his grip tightening on his bowstring.

"You cannot stop it… the Unburden will rise again," the blood trall managed to say, his eyes widening with a mix of fear and resignation. Just as Yan Jin prepared to release his arrow, a sinister transformation began.

The surrounding blood, pooling and swirling ominously, converged around the dying trall. The once human figure expanded grotesquely, as thick, matted fur sprouted from its skin, claws lengthened into deadly talons, and multiple heads emerged, each writhing and snarling. The air filled with a stifling, rancid aura of corrupted energy, coalescing into a nightmarish form.

The creature\'s grotesque transformation was accompanied by a haunting lament, the anguished cries of the fallen practitioner echoing through the air. "No, it is not supposed to be like this!" the creature roared in a voice that was both many and one, a cacophony of horror.

Yan Jin staggered backward, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he unleashed a flurry of arrows at the abomination. Despite his effort, the arrows barely scratched the surface of the monstrous entity, their impact minimal against its grotesque form. Exhausted from earlier battles, Yan Jin\'s energy was waning. Realizing the futility of a direct confrontation, he turned and fled towards the tunnels.