Chapter 75: Rather Poor Luck

Chapter 75: Rather Poor Luck

Sensing the earth tremble, Alger’s heart tightened. He glanced at Gehrman Sparrow and acted in place of words.

The wind around him abruptly howled, helping him run sideways with greater ease and speed.

The reason Alger acted so directly was because he worried that Gehrman Sparrow might suddenly go mad and decide to hunt the terrifying creature hidden inside the pitch-black cave. If that happened, even if they ultimately won, it would certainly be extremely detrimental to the exploration afterward.

And as an experienced Sailor, he knew that decisive action had a power of suggestion and contagion. It could cause a companion who had yet to make a decision to unconsciously follow or imitate.

Seeing this, Klein secretly let out a breath of relief, gave up discussing the issue of courtesy, and strode forward, running with thudding steps toward the Hanged Man’s rear flank.

Immediately afterward, he felt gale winds blowing from behind and beneath his feet, pushing him and lifting him forward. The gravity he had to overcome was significantly reduced, while additional propulsion increased his speed by more than double in an instant.

Amid the howling wind, Klein and Alger rushed out of the sparse-wooded area and circled to the side of that deep darkness.

Just then, both their heartbeats suddenly slowed. They were clearly in the middle of intense exercise, yet they felt somewhat like people lying in afternoon sunlight, about to fall asleep.

Klein then felt his body grow cold. An indescribable gloom surfaced without warning and seeped inward, strand by strand.

At the same time, he saw the light from Alger’s lantern being covered inch by inch by a massive shadow rising from behind them. The corresponding scene naturally surfaced in his mind:

From the pitch-black cave emerged a giant serpent so thick a single person could not encircle it with both arms. It had enormous dark-green scales tinged with black, and exaggerated eyes that seemed to burn with flames.

Between the gaps of its scales grew white feathers stained with pale-yellow grease. On its back, there was even a pair of thick wings that could spread open.

Half crawling, half flying, the giant serpent raised its body high, coiling around a towering, sturdy tree. It flicked its pitch-black tongue and watched, from afar, the two human figures who had just intruded near its territory.

Around it, trees withered rapidly, all the weeds rotted away, and countless corpses crawled out from beneath the soil. Invisible shadows crowded around its side.

Feathered Serpent!

This was a Feathered Serpent!

In the Southern Continent, it was a sacred symbol—the emblem of the Eggers family, descendants of Death.

Klein and Alger did not pause. Enduring the coldness in their bodies and their slowing heartbeats, they used the help of even fiercer winds to charge into the depths of the black forest, leaving that sparse-wooded area far behind.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Their heartbeats gradually returned to normal. The chill on the surface of their bodies was dispersed little by little by the heat generated by intense movement.

Klein’s spiritual intuition told him that the danger from just now had passed. He slowed his pace, turned back for a glance, and calmly said toward the distant, tree-filled, deep darkness, “A demigod-level Feathered Serpent.”

“Demigod-level…” Alger likewise reduced his speed. A vein on his forehead jumped faintly.

After a pause of two seconds, he exhaled softly and said, “There is no need to mind it too much. The extraordinary creatures here have a strong sense of territory. Unless they intend to hunt, they will not enter other regions—especially areas near the mountain peak. That Feathered Serpent should not pursue us.”

Klein nodded lightly, then said, “The extraordinary creatures here are powerful.”

Alger withdrew his gaze and shook his head.

“No. There are many weak ones too.

“I have come here at night before, but I only discovered traces left behind by demigod-level extraordinary creatures. I had never truly encountered one until today.

“Such matters mainly depend on luck. The probability of it happening again is not too high.”

As a Navigator, calculation was an indispensable ability.

Are you looking down on me, the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck?

Klein mocked himself inwardly. Without much expression, he said, “Absolute judgments often lead to the opposite result.”

Translated into Earth terms, what that sentence meant was:

Do not raise a flag.

Truthfully, if what they had encountered earlier had not been a demigod-level Feathered Serpent, but a Sequence 5 member of the same species, Klein would have been quite willing to bully it. After all, with Azik’s copper whistle in hand, an extraordinary creature in the domain of the dead would lose at least half of its combat strength at once.

As for encountering a demigod-level extraordinary creature, Klein had not been too badly frightened. The Hanged Man had mentioned this issue before, and Klein had made the corresponding preparations. The combination of the Fate Stealer charm, the three demigod-level Beyonder abilities in Leymano’s Travels, Groselle’s Travels, and Travel did not necessarily allow him to fight a demigod, but it was sufficient to help him create an opportunity to escape.

So long as I do not encounter an angel who also belongs to the demigod domain…

Klein silently added the thought in his heart.

Hearing Gehrman Sparrow’s words, Alger was actually somewhat astonished, because the mad adventurer’s meaning was clearly for him to be more cautious and careful.

A fellow both calm and mad? That makes sense. If he were nothing but madness, he definitely would not have lived until now…

Alger lifted his head to gaze at the sky. Through the accumulated fog, he worked hard to distinguish the blurry stars.

Two minutes later, he withdrew his gaze, pointed in a direction, and said, “This way.”

Klein had already drawn the iron-black revolver Death Knell. At that moment, he let the barrel naturally hang down and silently followed beside Alger, his expression cold, calm, and composed, without a trace of panic.

After traveling for a while through the black forest, where the light was extremely dim, Alger suddenly stopped and looked to the left. In a low voice, he said, “A short distance ahead, there will be an Illusory Chime Tree. I want to try handling it myself first.

“The second extraordinary creature we encounter afterward will be yours to deal with. I will not participate.”

Unless you cannot handle it alone…

Alger swallowed the latter half of his sentence.

He was not like the Hunters so often encountered at sea. He would not always fail to control his mouth and habitually say things that angered and irritated others.

The mother body of the Beyonder ingredient Miss Justice needs… Mr. Hanged Man has no lack of adventuring experience either. He knows that sometimes frankness is more useful than concealment, and discussion is more effective than scheming against others…

Maintaining Gehrman Sparrow’s persona, Klein nodded with a cold yet faintly refined air.

“Fine.

“If you cannot handle it, it would be best to ask for help. Otherwise, I will take it as you still holding on.”

The mad adventurer’s style seemed different from Hunters on the surface, yet in some respects, it was astonishingly similar…

Alger quietly inhaled, lifted the lantern, and continued forward.

As they walked, they heard the faint, tinkling sound of wind chimes. Immediately, they felt as if they had returned home, their bodies and minds relaxing.

Klein keenly sensed his vigilance and guard irreversibly melting away. No matter how much he emphasized and repeated the need for caution inside his mind, he could no longer keep his entire being taut.

At that instant, he even wanted to lean toward the place where the chimes came from, believing that there lay something extremely precious and intimate to him.

Because they were still relatively far away, the wind chimes came and went in waves. Klein barely controlled himself and turned his head to look at Mr. Hanged Man.

Alger had also lost his usual steadiness. His rough face showed reddened eyes, though it was impossible to know what he had remembered, or what emotional state he had entered.

I wonder what Mr. Hanged Man would look like if he really started crying… That would definitely be terrifying…

Klein could not help thinking.

At that moment, Alger spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Leave the next part to me.”

As soon as his voice fell, he set down the lantern and slightly turned the evil-looking ring on the thumb of his left hand, causing the thorn-like protrusions stained with something resembling old blood to grow even more distinct.

This was his mystical item, the Whip of the Mind. Its side effect was that the wearer would constantly suffer a headache so severe they would want to smash their head against a wall.

Yet at this moment, that intense headache allowed Alger to maintain basic clarity amid the wind chimes and avoid being truly hypnotized.

Sometimes, side effects may not necessarily be unable to help the owner…

As Alger sighed inwardly, he took a wooden box from a hidden pocket in his clothes and opened it with a snap.

Inside was a gray rat.

Mr. Hanged Man wants to use the rat as bait to draw the Illusory Chime Tree’s attention, then seize the opportunity to attack? Not bad. His preparations are thorough, with a detailed plan in advance…

As an experienced adventurer, Klein roughly grasped the Hanged Man’s idea almost immediately.

Alger picked up the rat and shook it once. His expression suddenly became a little strange.

The gray rat no longer moved. It had lost both breath and body warmth. It could no longer serve as bait.

During their earlier encounter with the demigod-level Feathered Serpent, although Alger had only been at the edge of the other party’s gaze and had escaped quickly, suffering an impact that was not too serious and recovering fairly easily, the gray rat he carried was merely an ordinary species. It did not have such powerful vitality or physique. Merely being slightly affected had been enough for it to fail to survive, dying on the spot.

It died… It died… Mr. Hanged Man should now understand a truth: plans often cannot keep up with changes… His luck really is not very good…

Seeing this, the corner of Klein’s mouth moved almost imperceptibly. He wanted to laugh but did not dare make a sound, afraid of breaking character.

A similar situation was not often seen in the experienced, meticulous Hanged Man.

Alger swiftly restrained his expression. Carrying the dead gray rat, he walked ahead. Klein bent down, picked up the lantern, and followed behind him at a steady pace.

The wind chimes grew clearer and clearer, increasingly filled with the power to calm people and make them want to run straight toward them.

After taking a few more steps, Klein finally saw that strange tree.

Upon its brown-green trunk, long, narrow cracks appeared one after another. Within each crack lay deep darkness, as if different eyes were growing there.

From the branches that spread outward hung iron-gray objects resembling wind chimes. They would sway on their own and emit pleasant sounds. At the center of the uppermost branch closest to the trunk grew a fist-sized, colorless, semi-transparent fruit.

Alger looked at that place, pressed his Adam’s apple, and said to Gehrman Sparrow in a deep voice, “You had best block your ears and restrain your spirituality.”