Jumanji composed himself, then leaned calmly toward the lifeless insect. Amidst its mangled entrails, he spotted something glowing with a faint, mysterious luster.
He reached out with a steady hand, plucked the radiant object, and wiped away the remaining blue fluid.
Contemplating the round bead between his fingers, he muttered in a tone devoid of wonder:
"A Spirit Essence..."
The essence was spherical, shimmering with tiny specks that resembled distant stars trapped in a crystalline substance. It was thrice the size of a grape.
Jumanji sensed the pulse of raw energy within and added to himself:
*"I must collect as many of these as possible. They are not mere trinkets, but a vast fortune I can trade later."*
He concealed the essence within the boundaries of his "Spiritual Farm" with cautious speed. Standing tall, he fixed his gaze toward the distant horizon; the echoes of strange movements were approaching, signaling that the silence following the battle would not last long.
***
In an instant, Jumanji lunged like an arrow. The edges of his black robes fluttered with every rapid leap, while a sharp, continuous buzzing began to close in with an explicit threat.
"It seems my bad luck has dropped me right near their nest," Jumanji muttered as he carved a path through the rocks. "They have sensed the death of their kin, and now they seek vengeance."
He glanced sideways to see the bitter truth: dozens of giant centipedes were crawling behind him with frantic speed, their metallic scales clashing against the ground with a terrifying din.
He realized that a direct confrontation was certain suicide; his only option was to scatter the swarm before they could tighten a loop around him.
Jumanji's run was not random. He moved with extreme caution, knowing the dangers of this terrain. As he slipped between the slopes, the sound of human chatter reached his ears from directly ahead.
He narrowed his eyes with cunning. He realized the "voices" belonged to a group of cultivators who had just entered the Rift.
A sinister idea sparked in his mind. Instead of hiding, he increased his speed, heading directly toward the source of the noise.
In the distance, the glint of weapons appeared. It was a group of youths from the Brown Bear Tribe, struggling to maintain their balance under the spiritual pressure.
Jumanji cried out with a feigned tone of panic as he neared them:
"Fellows! Watch out! Ravaging beasts are attacking!"
***
Among the panicked group, three youths in their early twenties emerged. Their expressions shifted instantly upon seeing the centipedes crawling toward them like a nightmare.
One of them couldn't help but scream in a raspy voice:
"Run! Run for your lives!"
At that moment, Jumanji leaped with extraordinary agility onto the trunk of a giant tree, vanishing among its dense leaves in the blink of an eye.
He left behind an army of angry insects that lunged with their metallic momentum directly into the ranks of the stunned cultivators.
Jumanji retreated slightly along the branch, watching the scene with cold eyes. He whispered indifferently:
"Let us see how your groups hold up against these beas—"
Before he could finish the sentence, his mocking tone vanished. He narrowed his eyes again, staring at the imminent slaughter below.
Suddenly, a strange shift occurred in his features. Confusion crept into his mind, and he wondered in a haunting silence:
*"What did I just do? Why did I lead those monsters to them?"*
*Why would I do that?*
Jumanji stood lost amidst conflicting thoughts, processing that sudden flash of regret—or perhaps wonder. He himself did not grasp the true motivation behind that demonic idea he had executed without thinking, as if a dark part of his soul had taken the helm for a few brief seconds.
***
In the distance, the group scattered in total panic. Members fled in all directions through the trees, forcing the insect swarm to split up to chase each prey individually.
Screams echoed through the chaos. One cultivator shouted with a voice full of resentment as he struggled for breath:
"Who was that scoundrel that dragged these demons behind him just to throw them in our faces?!"
Another burly youth growled, his eyes sparking with rage despite his fear:
"I swear, if I ever lay eyes on him again, I will tear that bastard limb from limb!"
Jumanji watched the scene from his hiding spot with precision. Once he was certain the insects had dispersed and their focus was shattered, his sudden confusion vanished. It was replaced by a faint, mysterious glint in his eyes.
His plan hadn't been mere petty malice; it was a cold tactic to reduce the number of his opponents.
Jumanji leaped toward the ground with the grace of a stalking leopard. He set off in a specific direction with a new purpose in mind.
***
Jumanji's direction was not random; he was tracking the "weakest" of the scattered insects. Instead of facing the entire swarm, he had now become the "Hunter" isolating his prey one by one.
"Let's turn the tables," Jumanji muttered with a voice full of guile as he moved through the trees. "And let the hunter become the prey."
He stopped abruptly behind a protruding rocky ledge. One of the centipedes was lunging ignorantly toward a towering rock, attempting to climb it to reach a wounded cultivator struggling for survival at the top.
Jumanji gave it no chance to turn or sense his presence. He clenched his fist tightly and pounced with a lightning strike aimed directly at the center of its back.
How could any creature—no matter how tough its armor—withstand a punch charged with a ton of force?
His fist pierced the insect's body without the slightest effort. Its entrails shattered, and the echo of its corpse hitting the rock wall resonated with a muffled thud.
Because of the boy's terrified screaming as he climbed, he didn't even realize what had happened behind him.
***
The insect fell dead. Jumanji leaned down coldly to pluck its radiant essence, hiding it instantly within his farm. He then vanished again like a ghost, tracking his next victim.
Jumanji did not stop with that trophy. He continued to move like a passing shadow through the Rift, exploiting every second of the widespread chaos.
He appeared and disappeared like a phantom; delivering a killing blow to a lone centipede, extracting its spirit essence coldly, then vanishing before the scattered cultivators could realize a hidden hand was harvesting what pursued them.
Elsewhere, the three youths succeeded in finishing off three of the deadly insects. Though the battle drained their strength and left them exhausted, the harvest of spirit essences made it worth every drop of sweat.
The youths stood facing each other with grim, resentful faces. One asked sharply:
"Was that boy we saw a follower of the 'Carp Fish' tribe, or is he from the 'Stork Clan'?"
Another youth sighed bitterly and replied:
"If he belongs to the Stork Clan, we can do nothing but swallow our rage and stay silent. But if he is from the dregs of the Carp Fish tribe, he will pay dearly for his audacity in luring those monsters toward us."
***
Meanwhile, Jumanji was walking with slow, steady steps, having moved far from the scene of chaos. His mind was weaving plans far beyond his years. He muttered to himself:
*"These insects possess exceptional spiritual density. If I could sneak in and gather their eggs to raise them in my farm, it would be an invaluable gain. But in my current state, approaching the main nest is suicide; they would tear me to pieces before my feet even crossed their threshold."*
Jumanji muttered as he turned his gaze toward the foggy depths of the Rift:
*"I know for certain this place contains a rare type of 'Leech,' and obtaining it is my ultimate goal here. But the dilemma lies in my ignorance of its exact location."*
He paused for a moment, then a meaningful smile played on his face as he hummed softly:
*"But I know exactly who holds the key to reaching it... I only hope he hasn't already placed it in his hands."*
***
Jumanji gathered his focus and set off cautiously like a passing shadow between the giant tree trunks. He wasn't looking for an exit; he was tracking a specific trail, driven by a burning desire to find the person who would inadvertently lead him to the Rift's hidden treasure.
A considerable distance away, a sixteen-year-old youth was walking with a noticeable swagger, leading a group of four. His yellow robe shimmered with strange spiritual ripples, as if light were flowing through the threads.
This boy was none other than the genius of the "Carp Fish" tribe—the one who had managed to awaken a spiritual farm of excellent quality, making him the center of everyone's attention and the hope of the tribe.
A smile of confidence never left his face as he urged his companions forward, saying in an enthusiastic tone:
"Come on! We must search every corner of this place for any spiritual beings or rare plants. A single precious catch is enough to grant us massive cultivation resources when sold, and this will pave the road for the ascension we seek."
After a period of walking, staggering under the weight of the spiritual pressure, a slight youth emerged from the fog. He wore a dark black robe, broken only by a red sash wrapped tightly around his waist.
This person was Jumanji, whose features finally stilled after finding the target he had exhausted himself searching for.
The "Carp Fish" group stopped all at once, eyeing him with scrutiny mixed with confusion. One of them stepped forward and asked in a suspicious tone:
"Stop right there! Are you a follower of the 'Stork' Clan or the 'Brown Bear' Tribe?"
Jumanji showed no reaction of fear. Instead, a smile formed on his lips, carrying a mixture of disdain and superiority.
He answered in a mocking tone:
"Is knowing that truly necessary for you?"
**End of Chapter**