Chapter 42: I So Want... To Kill Something...

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Chang Feng stared at him for a long moment before finally asking, "What is your profession?"

"A mage."

"Hmm?"

Chang Feng was momentarily stunned, his gaze vacant. It was the first time he had encountered an elite-level mage. Normally, those who became mages were true spellcasters; those lacking the mental aptitude for magic would become support roles. Elite mages were indeed quite rare.

"I don't believe you," he said.

Ye Mingqiu extended his hand, concentrating his spiritual energy in his palm. Using mental constructs, he formed a spell template. Soon, a ball of crimson flame appeared, burning fiercely in his hand.

During the intensive training within the spirit realm, Ye Mingqiu had been studying magic diligently. Now, his spells were beginning to take shape. While not very powerful yet, at least he looked the part of a mage.

"Are you really a mage?" Chang Feng asked in surprise, frowning slightly as he gazed at the fire. Then he queried, "What is Euler's theorem?"

"Euler's theorem?" Ye Mingqiu thought briefly, then answered seriously, "Euler's theorem is the law that by wildly shouting 'Ora Ora Ora Ora...' during an attack, one can unleash greater power."

"...As expected of an elite mage, that answer is truly elite," Chang Feng mocked.

"I really don’t know," Ye Mingqiu said helplessly, spreading his hands. Although he knew the true meaning of Euler's theorem, as an elite mage, a reckless young spellcaster like him shouldn't be too knowledgeable.

"What can you do then?"

"Light spell, fireball, earth spear, windwalk, mana shield... I understand a bit of other spells, but none are mastered yet," Ye Mingqiu said with the clear-eyed innocence of a college student.

"Forget it, I don’t trust you. Goodbye. Don’t bother me again, or... I’ll kill you," Chang Feng said, casting a cold glare before turning and walking away.

Ye Mingqiu watched his departing figure, sighing with a hint of amusement, "So scary."

...

Northern District

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The air was thick and foul, filled with the acrid stench of rust, aged machine oil, and lingering chemical residues.

The massive factory building loomed in the stormy night like a slumbering prehistoric beast. Most windows were nothing but hollow, black cavities, while twisted steel beams jutted menacingly toward the thunderous sky.

"This place is really terrible," Ye Mingqiu whispered, pressing forward. The ground was strewn with shattered concrete and wild grass sprouting from cracks. Each step risked stepping on discarded parts or slippery moss.

Strange noises echoed through the mechanical plant—whether wind or the groans of metal under stress was unclear—resounding through the empty, silent ruins.

Ye Mingqiu did not activate any light source, yet he could clearly sense the contours of his surroundings—not by supernatural power, but through a keen mental sensitivity.

Like a silent shadow, he nimbly passed fallen scaffolding and skirted piles of rusted scrap metal. At last, he arrived at his destination—the iconic giant assembly hall of the Zhenxing Mechanical Factory, the terminus where Chang Feng had arrived first.

Chang Feng seemed confident in his strength. Even knowing Ye Mingqiu might come here, he still chose to take the initiative.

Of course, he might have backup plans or possess some assassin-like stealth abilities.

On one side of the workshop, a massive, heavy iron door stained with dark red rust stood half-open, resembling a demonic maw from hell, ready to devour the unwary.

Inside was an abyss of darkness. Ye Mingqiu could hear the intermittent sounds of combat and roars like wild beasts.

Has the battle begun?

Ye Mingqiu halted, smiling. The spirit realm’s usual concealment faded, and the youth in ordinary clothes instantly transformed into a heavily armored warrior. Wearing a blue-faced, fang-masked helmet and wielding a blood-red spear, his aura of battle drew him deeply in.

He longed... to kill something...

The blood spear gleamed, its crystalline veins pulsing like living blood vessels, connected to Ye Mingqiu’s hand, throbbing with vibrant life.

Step by step, he moved forward with heavy, resolute footsteps, like a great weight falling to the ground, steadily advancing toward the other side of the door. His surging murderous intent and malice roared like a tidal wave, as if to devour all targets beyond the threshold.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!..."

The heavy footfalls rang out continuously, their fearsome momentum naturally radiating like the tolling of a great bell, intimidating every combatant behind the door.

At some point, the sounds of battle ceased, leaving only a faint metallic scent of blood—lingering from wounds—slowly spreading in the air, attracting monstrous war beasts.

"Boom!!"

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The blood spear sliced through the air, instantly shattering the iron door. The partially destroyed gate revealed Chang Feng facing off against three blood-red monsters.

Chang Feng was half-covered in blood, gripping a silver longsword tightly. His gaze fixed unblinkingly on the armored figure behind the door while remaining alert to the blood-colored monsters beside him. His heartbeat quickened to the extreme.

Opposite him were the blood-red beasts, grotesque and sickly. Their bodies resembled exposed muscle stripped of skin, eyes glowing like burning embers, radiating heat in the darkness.

The three blood monsters bore sword wounds from which molten-hot blood like lava poured, sizzling as it dripped to the ground. Their injuries visibly healed at an alarming rate.

"Bang!"

Heavy footsteps sounded once more. The blood monsters trembled as if a foot pressed on their hearts. They stared fixedly at the armored warrior wielding the blood spear at the doorway. His blue-faced fanged mask and aura, as if risen from a mountain of corpses and seas of blood, were even more terrifying than the monsters themselves.

They wondered—had this man killed more than they could ever?

Humans fear, and monsters do too. In unspoken accord, they ceased fighting and stared together at the tyrant approaching the battlefield from the other side of the gate.

The footsteps continued rhythmically...

"Roar!!!"

Finally, one blood monster could no longer withstand the grim atmosphere. It let out an angry roar, transforming into a shadow that shot forward at a speed beyond human perception.

Its sharp claws tore through the air with a shrill whistle, heavy with blood and death, aiming straight for the blue-faced fang mask.

But... it failed...

The blood spear was faster, piercing the blood monster swiftly and accurately, holding it suspended in midair as its boiling blood poured out.

The molten, corrosive blood dripped onto the spear but caused no damage. In fact, the spear absorbed the blood, intensifying the crimson crystal veins, which gleamed with renewed vigor as if energized by some potent elixir.

The pierced blood monster trembled in pain and despair, struggling vainly, feeling its body drained dry before collapsing into a withered skeleton that shattered into black fragments.