Chapter Seventy-Seven: Xie Guotao, You Are Nothing But a Liar!

The air was like frost, sweeping across mountains and rivers, piercing to the bone, swallowing the world whole—like a raging sea dragon breaking through clouds and moon, flattening the heavens. In the split second after dodging the giant beast’s lethal strike, Yang Fan raised his long blade, the turbulent power within him erupting in an instant.

A perfectly whole giant beast was cleaved in two from head to toe. Yang Fan then hurried to the side of the other strange beast, which was still twitching from the electric shock, and with a swift stroke, its magnificent head rolled to the ground.

Breathing heavily, Yang Fan looked around warily. After a moment, he collapsed onto the ground with a thud.

Too close! These two unknown creatures had nearly spelled his doom. Their strength wasn’t extraordinary—the first had the force of a second-rank peak, perhaps, and the second barely just entered the third rank. But their ability to turn invisible, leaving not a single trace, was terrifying. Had it not been for the sound of their attacks slicing through the air, and a bit of luck and timing, he might not have survived.

Suddenly, applause echoed from the jungle.

Yang Fan’s heart jolted. He sprang up, gripping his blade, pointing it toward the source of the sound.

A figure emerged from the trees. Upon seeing him, Yang Fan’s whole being soured.

“Xie Guotao!” he growled, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, look at that—you’re not even calling me big brother anymore, just straight to my name,” Xie Guotao replied, face full of annoyance.

Yang Fan immediately bristled. Damn it, you threw me into this place, ignoring me, when you were clearly nearby, just watching me fight to the death with these unknown monsters! And you still want me to call you big brother?

“What kind of big brother are you? I nearly died just now, you know?” Yang Fan roared, the veins on his forehead bulging. “Look, look at my wounds! Damn it, don’t touch them!” He shouted as he showed the injuries on his back.

But Xie Guotao reached out and touched them anyway.

Yang Fan’s dried sweat broke out anew.

“Heh, you’re making a fuss over nothing. These wounds aren’t even as bad as the ones you took back in Yunnan. Still, I’m surprised you managed to kill those two stealth beasts with only these scratches. Tell me, how did you spot them? You even blocked their deadliest opening attack!” Xie Guotao said, pulling medicine from his pack as he spoke.

“These scratches? You think I can’t see my own back? The pain is hardly minor! And damn it, you were nearby and didn’t lift a finger to help? I only survived by luck! What if I hadn’t?” Yang Fan’s face was full of grief and indignation, but he obediently turned his back to Xie Guotao for medicine.

Xie Guotao smeared a blob of black ointment onto Yang Fan’s back, saying, “What if you hadn’t blocked it? Then you’d be dead, what else?”

Yang Fan fell silent. This guy had no humanity. If I hadn’t blocked it, I’d be dead? Then why go through all the trouble to trick me into this ruin? Just to watch me die?

“Damn it, go easy!” He felt a sharp stab in his back as if pierced by a needle and cried out.

“Come on, you’re a third-rank warrior and can’t handle a bit of pain? Aren’t you ashamed?” Xie Guotao showed no mercy, continuing his rough treatment.

Eventually, Yang Fan, with Xie Guotao’s “help,” had the ointment smoothed and bandaged, and pulled his clothes back on.

...

“Old Xie, just tell me, why did you bring me into this jungle?” Yang Fan asked as he tore into a freshly roasted beast leg, watching Xie Guotao devour his share.

“Why so many questions? I brought you here for a reason. Just follow orders and you’ll be fine! What, you think I’d set you up?” Xie Guotao replied, mouth full, with no trace of a grandmaster’s dignity.

Yang Fan paused, meat still in hand. Speak from your conscience, damn it!

“Old Xie, stop saying things like that. I’m afraid heaven will strike you down! As if you haven’t set me up every step of the way!” Yang Fan’s face was a blend of helplessness and outrage.

This bastard really was something else.

Xie Guotao’s face grew awkward, but he quickly recovered and said threateningly, “Kid, call me ‘Old Xie’ again and see what happens! No respect at all! Believe me, I could leave you in this wilderness—no one around, and whether you live or die, it’s all up to what I say when I get back!”

Yang Fan stood stunned for a moment, feeling as if ten thousand wild horses were stampeding through his mind.

This guy is shameless. Though Yang Fan didn’t believe he’d really abandon him, Xie Guotao’s unreliability was a warning for the future. Better not argue now—one day, I’ll get my own back, but for now, I’ll keep my head down.

“Big Brother Xie, don’t be mad. Eat, eat!” Yang Fan said.

Xie Guotao’s face was expressionless, but inside he was pleased. Trying to outsmart me? I’ll bury you!

When night fell upon the ruins, Xie Guotao and Yang Fan rested atop a tall tree. Xie Guotao told Yang Fan to sleep soundly, offering to keep watch—a reward for Yang Fan’s performance that day.

Yang Fan didn’t think further, found a comfortable spot, and slipped into sleep almost instantly. He couldn’t help it—these days had been exhausting, and before, he hadn’t dared relax. Now, with a seventh-rank master at his side, he could finally rest easy.

...

“Xie Guotao, damn you! You’re nothing but a liar!” Yang Fan cursed as he ran through the jungle.

Behind him, a fifteen-meter-long giant python gave chase.

Its aura was unmistakably third-rank, high level.

Yang Fan was about ready to curse Xie Guotao’s ancestors. Last night, Xie Guotao had told him to rest easy, promising to keep watch. Yang Fan had relaxed and drifted into deep sleep. But soon after, he found himself suffocating—a giant python was pressing down on him, about to coil him up. If his long blade hadn’t been close by and he hadn’t struggled desperately, he’d already be nothing but a pile of snake dung.

The python, staring at the tiny figure before it, flashed a hint of anger in its cold eyes. This little thing had left a gash over a meter long on its body not long ago—not fatal, but infuriating. It had just escaped from deep in the forest, hoping for a better life on the outskirts, only to be wounded by its first meal. How could a short-tempered snake like it bear this?

The python accelerated, stirring up clouds of dust.

Yang Fan couldn’t take it anymore. Since entering this forest, he hadn’t had a single peaceful day. It was a ruin, sure, but did it have to be so cruel?

He shot a fierce glance back at the python.

“Good thing I’m still faster!” Yang Fan’s heart calmed slightly. With injuries, he really didn’t want another fight with anything.

Stepping through the nine layers, each stride a climb to a new realm—his breath drained, but as soon as it depleted, Yang Fan would replenish it with points. Damn it, I’ve got plenty—let’s see who runs out first! With a body that massive, every movement takes effort; I don’t believe you can chase forever!

Half an hour later, Yang Fan was stunned.

The colossal beast was still on his tail.

“Damn, is this thing tireless? Dragging that huge body, it’s chased me for over an hour without any sign of fatigue?” Yang Fan glanced back—his calves were cramping, yet the snake was relentless.

The system could restore his energy, but not his stamina.

“No, this can’t go on! Who knows how much stamina this snake has?” With that, Yang Fan’s eyes flashed cold.

Damn it, just a third-rank beast—he’d slain stronger ones before. Why should he be afraid?

He drew his blade, holding it in reverse grip. His speed gradually slowed.

The python rejoiced. The little thing was flagging—its pace was dropping. At this rate, it would soon catch up.

Three minutes later, the snake was less than three meters from Yang Fan.

Now, cold light blazed in Yang Fan’s eyes. He suddenly stopped, spun, and drew his blade from his waist, aiming straight for the snake’s head.

The python was shocked—too close to dodge! Its long tongue was severed in a single stroke.

Dark green blood gushed forth.

Yang Fan was overjoyed.

With foresight and surprise, he’d chopped off the python’s head! Everyone knows that for a snake, its head is everything—once it’s gone, it can’t sense its prey. Now, he could do as he pleased with it.

The anticipated fight never materialized.

It was a one-sided slaughter. Yang Fan’s blade continued to fall, splattering dark green blood through the air.

The final blow struck the python’s vital spot, decisively ending the battle that began like a tiger and ended like a snake.

Watching the massive body collapse, Yang Fan exhaled.

But before he could catch his breath, a figure emerged from the depths of the jungle.

Damn it, Xie Guotao—here he comes!

Yang Fan sat atop the broad back of the python, watching Xie Guotao approach from afar.

Utterly helpless.

This guy had promised not to leave him behind—to keep watch. Yet here he was, nearly getting Yang Fan killed.

Yang Fan turned his head away, no interest in dealing with Xie Guotao at all.

Xie Guotao wasn’t offended, grinning as he ran over, patting the python’s massive body. He exclaimed, “Such a huge snake, and it still couldn’t take your life. Heh, your luck is tough indeed!”

Yang Fan retorted, “Yeah, my luck’s tough—be careful, one day I might be your downfall! Damn it, Xie Guotao, you’re a liar!”