Chapter 318

Chapter 318: The Death Vortex

Although Lin Qingliu now possessed the ability to fly, his vision could not pierce through the thick fog that blanketed the mycelium area.

He attempted to summon strong winds to disperse the fog, but it only had a marginal effect at the forest’s edge; deeper within, it proved futile.

Lin Qingliu had stirred the wind to the limits of what the forest could naturally tolerate; any further increase would seem unnatural and risk drawing the suspicion of the will of the mycelium.

To gather the most precise intelligence, he decided to venture into the forest himself.

Some time had passed since he left the Giant Tree, and he noticed subtle changes in the types of trees surrounding him.

Though he could still recognize traces of familiar species, every time Lin Qingliu gazed at the deep purple leaves, he felt as though he had stepped into the world of "A x Da," where a three-meter-tall Humanoid Figure might swoop down on a giant bird at any moment.

With this peculiar sense of déjà vu, Lin Qingliu recorded the details of his surroundings as he made his way toward the Graveyard of Sleep Pods that Fulan had described.

As he progressed, another question began to nag at him:

“It’s too quiet outside Hope City.”

By quiet, he didn’t mean the absence of conflict, but rather the unnerving flatness of the terrain.

He was now fifty kilometers from the edge of Hope City and nearly a hundred kilometers from the spire’s location.

The spire was, after all, just a spaceship, its above-ground and underground sections combined measuring roughly two kilometers in length.

At Infinite Scroll, he had seen the spire’s complete form on the main display—

A spindle-shaped spaceship, encircled by two ring-like auxiliary zones, connected by dozens of passageways.

When Lin Qingliu first saw it, he had likened it to a small bicycle wheel with spokes and a central axle.

But now, the spire had clearly lost its outer ring, with the spoke area buried in the ground, leaving only the sharp tip of the spindle protruding above the surface, hence its name “spire.”

When he first learned the truth about the world, Lin Qingliu had assumed that the flatness of the Hope City area was due to the spire’s impact—that humanity was living in a Meteorite Crater.

But upon further reflection, this seemed illogical.

How fast would such a small meteorite have to travel to create such an expansive plain?

When the spaceship crashed onto this planet, it had not been completely out of control, and the final impact was not a full-force collision; this was why, despite significant damage, the spaceship had not been completely destroyed, and the humans inside had survived.

By this logic, the Meteorite Crater should also be limited in size. Yet, after walking nearly a hundred kilometers, Lin Qingliu still saw no mountains or rivers, which struck him as strange.

Could this planet truly be entirely flat? With a relatively solid crust, was such a thing even possible?

He buried this question in his mind, knowing he wouldn’t find an answer anytime soon.

Continuing forward, he suddenly sensed something unusual—a faint biological field that felt familiar.

It was a human presence, but it was incredibly weak.

At the same time, Lin Qingliu noticed a peculiar branch not far away.

The gray branch was leafless, jutting out horizontally like a barrier rod at an entrance.

At its tip, a dark red substance seemed to have congealed.

Blood. Human blood.

In that moment, Fulan seemed to share Lin Qingliu’s unease, instinctively shrinking back as both man and cat entered a state of heightened alert.

Thanks to the directed movements of extraordinary beasts before every beast tide, even in this rarely traversed, dangerous forest, it was possible to find paths that resembled “roads.”

Lin Qingliu and Fulan ducked into a bush by the roadside; though the bush had mutated into a bluish-purple hue, it still bore sharp thorns.

This level of danger was trivial for Lin Qingliu; he concealed himself expertly, focusing on the faint biological field.

Just a minute later, faint rustling sounds reached his ears, as though several people were attempting to navigate the forest.

Lin Qingliu glanced upward and saw that as the light dimmed, the thick fog that had once hung high above was slowly descending.

This partially obscured his vision and dulled some of his other senses.

As for the biological field, it was so faint that Lin Qingliu hadn’t realized how close its source actually was.

He had initially assumed that the humans, if they existed, were at least a kilometer away.

But such thoughts were now irrelevant, as the group was already drawing near.

Yet, instead of feeling excitement at the prospect of encountering others, Lin Qingliu grew increasingly tense.

The people before him walked unsteadily, their feet sometimes splayed outward, sometimes inward, unable to maintain even a basic rhythm.

Their tattered clothing looked as though it had endured decades of wear, with the fabric at their joints nearly worn through and numerous scratches scattered across the remaining material.

As the group stumbled forward, a scraping sound emerged, followed by the faint rustle of trembling branches.

Lin Qingliu raised his gaze and saw the leading man brush past the roadside, grazing the Sharp Branch stained with dried blood.

This time, however, he left no mark on the branch, for the forearm that aligned with it was already skeletal, as though a wedge-shaped chunk had been cleanly sliced away by a sharp axe.

The sight made Lin Qingliu’s eyelids twitch, as if he had suddenly transitioned from “A x Da” to “The Walking Dead.”

As he looked closer, he not only saw the man’s stark white bones but also noticed the strange objects adorning his body.

The straps that should have held emergency supplies were now studded with oddly shaped branches, while the space behind him meant for carrying nutritional paste was stuffed with a large bundle of leaves that occasionally drifted to the ground.

One person’s backpack was in tatters, with black, murky liquid dripping from its bottom edge, obscuring whatever was inside.

All five individuals had dilated pupils, their eyes clouded with a mix of blood red and gray.

Blindness was the first word that came to Lin Qingliu’s mind.

The people before him seemed like army ants caught in a vortex of death, endlessly marching without purpose until they burned out completely.

And each of them appeared utterly unaware, as if they were simply following orders.

This was a fact Lin Qingliu was reluctant to accept, but the few remaining traits they possessed silently revealed the truth:

They were superpowered individuals from Hope City.