Chapter Seventy: Strange Creatures

The mountains here, as long as they rise above the clouds, reach at least three thousand meters in height. The highest point Ma Yi had just flown to was around five thousand meters. Nature’s might is truly awe-inspiring; in such a brief span, it has wrought a range to rival the Western Kunlun Mountains.

Descending from the heights, Ma Yi at last noticed a difference: the rain-laden clouds to the left were blacker than the snow-filled clouds to the right, and the ashen substance—like soot—was far more plentiful there. The acrid stench, even with the rain, gradually seeped into Ma Yi’s nostrils, the odor of sulfur compounds growing ever stronger.

The clouds were so thick that Ma Yi, with Iron Pillar and the Two-Headed Hound, walked along the mountain ridge for over twenty minutes before finally emerging from their shroud. The acid within the clouds had dissolved the beast hides Iron Pillar and the Two-Headed Hound wore; these were pelts from formidable evolved beasts, impenetrable even to ordinary metals, and yet now they were slowly corroded by the acid rain—a testament to its terrifying potency. This was no place for the weak.

Once free of the clouds, the view was clear: beneath the clouds, the rocks and earth of the ridge had been blackened by acid rain, the air so caustic it stung even Ma Yi's senses. One could well imagine—even those gifted with the physique of an evolver might not survive here.

“It’s a bit hot,” Iron Pillar remarked nonchalantly, standing in the acid rain beneath the clouds. His skin, washed by the rain, looked ever darker and more lustrous.

“It’s alright, I just find it rather mild. Such a pity about my lovely clothes,” the Two-Headed Hound replied.

The weather atop the ridge was as Ma Yi had seen from above: torrents of rain to the left, heavy snow to the right, and sleet along the ridge itself. Billowing black smoke rolled through the left-side clouds; were it not diluted by the rain, the right side would be blanketed in caustic ash like sulfuric acid rather than a mere dusting of fire-gray.

Within the smoke, lightning twisted and danced, interlacing with the bolts in the clouds.

“A volcano,” Ma Yi realized at last the source of the ash and acid rain. Having grasped the situation, he slid down the slope, hugging the mountain as he went. Flying up was easy, and descending was even simpler, the speed swift as a plummet.

On the left side of the ridge, life was scarce; the acid rain had left little but grotesquely corroded corpses, far fewer than the living creatures who still survived on the right.

“What on earth is that?” Ma Yi suddenly halted a few hundred meters from the foot of the mountain. He gazed at a bizarre structure on the slope and, beside it, a host of twisted creatures. Cautiously, Ma Yi drew closer.

Seeing their leader pause, Iron Pillar, carrying the Two-Headed Hound, also slowed and drifted toward Ma Yi.

It was a kind of humanoid life form. The acid rain had all but dissolved its features, but Ma Yi could still make out, on its upper body, what resembled human arms. Its lower body, however, bore the robust bones of a fish’s tail. Picking up a charred stone, Ma Yi knocked it against the creature’s skeleton; a metallic clang sounded. Clearly, this was a powerful species in life, far stronger than any human evolver.

The rocks of the slope were riddled with caves, large and small. Around these caves, the humanoid creatures had died in all manner of contortions. Stroking his chin, Ma Yi studied these corpses with curiosity. Acid rain could certainly kill such beings—that much he believed. But why had all of them perished here? The caves could have sheltered them from the rain. Why had they not taken refuge inside?

While Ma Yi pondered, Iron Pillar and the Two-Headed Hound were not idle. The Two-Headed Hound’s first thought upon seeing this new creature was whether it could be eaten, while Iron Pillar, perhaps out of habit from turning corpses into corpse-beasts in caves, tried dripping a few drops of blood onto the body to see if he could revive it.

Ma Yi watched with anticipation, but was disappointed: the blood was not absorbed, merely washed away by the acid rain. This was the first time the usually efficacious corpse blood had failed.

Annoyed, Iron Pillar raked open the corpse’s belly with his claws, and a round, fleshy ball tumbled out.

“What is that?” Ma Yi hurried over. The ball of flesh trembled in the acid rain; its skin sizzled and corroded, and something inside writhed in agony.

The Two-Headed Hound immediately snatched up the ball, both heads tilting as they peered at the struggling mass. Iron Pillar shielded it from the rain with a large hand.

“Cut it open,” Ma Yi ordered.

A sharp claw flicked out from the Hound’s paw, slicing the surface of the ball. A purple line of blood appeared, widening as a murky liquid sprayed out, the flesh ball swelling as something inside forced its way free.

“What is this…” Ma Yi’s hair stood on end. Inside was a bizarre creature: a human-like head, two single-jointed arms—not like a human’s double-jointed arm, but more paddle-like, with six or seven webbed fingers. Below was a tail somewhat resembling a catfish’s, and its skin was covered in faint, fine scales.

The little creature gasped for breath, mouth wide, but the thick sulfur fumes and myriad toxins in the air made it impossible to breathe. Three slits suddenly split open behind its ears, opening and closing with its labored breaths.

Yet the creature’s life was as brief as its birth; within twenty seconds, before it could even open its swollen eyes, it died in the Hound’s grasp, leaving the beast licking its lips.

Ma Yi pried open the creature’s mouth with a finger—rows of serrated teeth, undeniably carnivorous, though still young and not yet sharp, but enough to show its diet. Its pupils were the vertical slits of cold-blooded creatures, and at the shoulders and back were fin-like protrusions.

“Is this a fishman?” Ma Yi exclaimed. “Has the world evolved so quickly that even fish are emerging onto land?”

Iron Pillar, simple-minded as ever, had no answer, while the Two-Headed Hound, both heads drooling, stared hungrily at the small body Ma Yi was turning over in his hands. One head even gulped in anticipation.

“Here, take it—eat,” Ma Yi muttered, tossing the little fishman to the Hound, who gleefully began to gnaw, both heads tearing in without hesitation.

“What does it taste like?” Ma Yi wondered aloud. “Do evolved fishmen still taste like fish?”

“Too many bones,” replied the Hound. “Not bad otherwise.” With that, he bent down and polished off the little fishman, bones and all. Ma Yi had wanted to look at the fishman’s bones, but the Hound hadn’t left a scrap behind. Annoyed, Ma Yi smacked the beast on the head, sending him tumbling face-first into the dirt.

Seeing this, Iron Pillar’s lips twitched, his usually fierce visage now betraying a hint of amusement—or perhaps mockery.

After examining several more fishman corpses, Ma Yi found no more of those flesh balls; it seemed they had stumbled upon a pregnant one by chance. Still curious, Ma Yi dissected a few more bodies and discovered these fishmen already possessed lungs similar to humans, as well as nostrils. Even upon encountering toxic gases, they should not have died instantly, nor should they have been unable to flee—yet here were so many, lying dead.

As Ma Yi mulled this over, a bolt of lightning suddenly crashed nearby. Even Ma Yi, with his formidable physique, was struck down instantly, let alone Iron Pillar and the Two-Headed Hound, who was still nibbling on a corpse. All three were felled in a flash. Fortunately, the ground was flat, or else tumbling hundreds of meters downslope would have left them gravely injured, if not dead.

“Damn, my whole body’s gone numb… my mind’s fading…” Ma Yi thought in his last moment of consciousness. He glimpsed Iron Pillar collapsed on the ground, silver blood streaming from his nostrils, smoke curling from his mouth. The Two-Headed Hound lay rigid, meat still clutched in his jaws.

The world grew darker, and Ma Yi slipped into unconsciousness.

“Sis, has my brother-in-law gone missing again? It’s been three days—why aren’t they back yet?” Liu Xue grumbled, not believing that, with the strength of Ma Yi, Iron Pillar, and the Two-Headed Hound, anything could harm them now.

“They’re probably just delayed by something,” Liu Wen replied with a smile. Indeed, with Ma Yi’s abilities, nothing yet encountered could truly threaten him.

“Hmm, I was just saying… He promised he’d take me out to have some fun.” Liu Xue pouted. These days her sister always took Ma Yi’s side; she was no longer the most cherished little sister.

Over the three days, Ma Yi’s group on the slope had been struck by lightning repeatedly during violent storms. After several shocks, it became clear these bolts weren’t targeting them directly, but rather the very rock on which Ma Yi lay.

The pitch-black surface hid the true nature of the stone. Its metallic composition, at such altitude, was a perfect attractor for lightning.