Chapter 143: Adventure Under the Moonlight (III)

The giant praying mantis was hardly a creature of pleasant temperament. Given an insect's aesthetic, it was certainly not going to be charmed by the dryad's delicate physique or seductive beauty. Uttering an angry, shrill screech, its powerful hind legs kicked off the ground as it unfolded its membranous wings to take flight. Wielding its twin giant sickle-like forelimbs, it slashed in a cross-pattern toward the dryad's slender neck.

Terrified out of her wits, the dryad let out a shriek, threw her hands over her head, and rapidly retreated deep into the flower bud.

The mantis's strike missed, its massive body gliding right over the top of the blossom.

The gigantic datura flower bud trembled slightly, and the dryad poked her head out once more. Her pretty face was filled with anger as she waved her hand, scattering a massive cloud of glittering dust.

Having missed its pounce, the giant praying mantis nearly crashed headfirst into the cliff face. No sooner had it landed safely than it took a face full of "glittering dust." Its protruding compound eyes, irritated by the intense light shining from all directions, were instantly blinded. Panicking, it flailed its forelimbs wildly in the air, trying to beat away the unseen enemy.

The dryad giggled merrily, a savage and cruel glint flashing in her eyes. Wielding her magic once again, the vegetation in the area where the mantis was hiding surged into manic growth. In the blink of an eye, a dense thicket of towering, ten-foot-tall briars erupted from the earth, wrapping around the giant mantis like a ring of thorny walls and tightly binding it. Unable to see, the mantis could only stumble blindly and painfully through the briars on instinct. With every step it took, it let out a shrill cry of agony as the sharp thorns carved countless wounds into its flesh, spilling vast amounts of pale turquoise blood.

The dryad's laughter grew even more triumphant. Four thorny vines slithered out from beneath the massive datura plant, winding their way through the briar patch to cling to the mantis's body. They grabbed hold of its wings and hind legs respectively, making escape impossible.

The blinded mantis had no idea what was entangling it. Making a desperate final leap, its body vaulted high into the air, dragging the four plant vines along with it. The vines pulled taut, instantly bursting with strong tensile force to yank the mantis right back down out of the midnight sky.

The mantis's fragile membranous wings were ripped to shreds, and its legs were torn off before it crashed heavily back into the briar patch, emitting a despairing, mournful wail.

"Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee..."

The dryad laughed almost to the point of madness. Laughing hysterically, she lashed out with her vines, whipping the mantis mercilessly across the head and face, beating the dying prey until its entire body was covered in lacerations, seemingly deriving some sort of twisted, incomprehensible pleasure from the act that Joan could not fathom.

The dying giant mantis lay prostrate within the briar patch, performing a final struggle in a bizarre posture—facing the rain of relentless whips, it raised its plump posterior high into the air.

Thwack!

The mantis's rear end suddenly ruptured with a wide tear, and a thick, chunky worm burrowed out from its abdomen. The creature was pitch black all over, and Joan could not tell which end was the head or the tail. From a distance, it looked like a piece of rusted iron wire, yet its body was as thick as a giant serpent. Freeing itself from the dying host, it slithered and climbed along one of the vines, rapidly closing in on the dryad.

"Gosh! That is utterly disgusting!"

The dryad gasped in the Sylvan tongue, her face a mask of disgust and horror, much like a city girl desperately trying to shake off a cockroach that had crawled onto her. She thrashed her vines frantically, finally managing to fling the bizarre black worm far away. Hasting to retract her vines, she pulled her upper body back inside the flower bud to hide.

Across the clearing in the thicket, Joan let out a long breath of relief, swiftly vaulted onto his horse, shook the reins, and spurred the animal out of the valley.

On this overwhelmingly long night filled with terrors, his curiosity had to take a backseat to his survival instinct. He only wanted to escape this terrifying place as quickly as possible, leaving the four-armed ape, the giant praying mantis, the datura dryad, and the nameless black worm far behind—much like someone who realizes they are dreaming and desperately wants to wake up, thoroughly shaking off the pursuit of a nightmare.

The little black colt was also thoroughly frightened by the series of thrilling hazards that night. Without needing Joan's urging, it galloped wildly until the valley occupied by the dryad was left far behind and the scent of datura flowers faded from the night wind, at which point it exhausted-ly slowed its pace.

Joan raised his head to glance at the night sky. Judging by the moon's position, it was past midnight. He pulled on the reins, dismounted, and led the sweat-drenched black colt toward a riverbank, where he gathered pebbles and twigs to build a campfire and pitch his tent.

Joan helped the horse dry its sweat, retrieved dry rations and a large bag of oats from his storage pouch, and sat by the campfire to chew on his hardtack, while the black colt buried its head deep into the sack of oats, greedily munching away.

Once both man and beast were well-fed, Joan took out the "alarm tripwire" his grandfather had prepared for him and strung it in a perimeter around the tent. The tripwire was actually a sturdy, transparent fishing line with a small, grass-green-painted bell tied every foot, making it very difficult to spot when set among the weeds. If a wild beast stumbled into the camp and accidentally tripped the line, the bells would ring to wake Joan up so he could take timely precautions.

After completing the security measures, Joan crawled into the tent and fell asleep instantly. The black colt stood guard beside the tent, its body warmed by the dying campfire. It let out a huge yawn and soon entered dreamland while standing upright.

***

Joan was jolted awake by the sound of a bell ringing. He hastily sat up and peeked his head out of the tent. Dawn was just breaking, thin mist drifted over the riverbank, and the campfire had burned down to embers. The black colt was boredly pacing back and forth around the tent, its tail accidentally brushing against the tripwire and triggering a crisp chime.

Relieved, Joan rubbed his eyes, yawned, and crawled out of the tent. He dismantled the tripwire and went down to the river to wash up. The black colt followed behind, lowering its head to drink before eagerly nosing and licking the small pouch at its master's waist that could magically produce oats.

Joan smiled knowingly. He untied the storage pouch and, as if performing magic, pulled out a sack that was vastly larger than the pouch itself. He opened the mouth of the sack and treated the horse to a magnificent oat feast. Joan rekindled the campfire, boiled water to make tea, and finished his breakfast with some dried meat. Afterward, he packed up the tent, put out the campfire with a stream of urine, stepped into the stirrups, and mounted up to resume his journey.

As the morning sun climbed into the branches and brilliant sunlight bathed the earth, the mist lingering over the river gradually dissipated. The chirping of birds in the forest intertwined with the sound of hoofbeats to form a natural symphony. Riding swiftly, Joan followed the Yifen River downstream, covering no less than ten miles by late morning until the riverbank ahead was blocked by lush thickets, forcing him to rein in his horse, dismount, and forge a path ahead with a blade in hand.

Joan carried two blades with him: one was the "electro-blade" sheathed at his waist, and the other was a brush knife colloquially known as a "hawk's beak" among country folk—about two feet long, with a tip curved like a bird's beak. Having done plenty of farm work since childhood and frequently pruned branches in his family's woods, Joan skillfully hooked the blocking branches with his blade and gave a gentle tug to slice them cleanly away, walking through the forest with his left hand holding the reins.

***

The five-chapter marathon release is complete!

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