Task Complete

The Dead-Eyed Vulture, White Wood, appeared behind Xiunan in an instant, its enormous black pupils locking directly onto the Guardian.

Crack, crack, crack...

The Guardian, whose strength had drastically diminished, moved noticeably slower, his body emitting continuous explosions from within. This was the conflict caused by a disrupted energy cycle.

Boom! Black Wood charged forward at lightning speed, colliding with the Guardian in a flash. Violent currents of air exploded from their point of impact, kicking up clouds of dust.

Bang!

Black Wood unleashed a heavy hammer strike, all the spines along its vertebral line blazing red. The entire spine flexed like a powerful bow, catapulting its head forward in a motion akin to a giant sledgehammer.

The Guardian threw a punch in response, his wild strength compressing the air and crashing fiercely into Black Wood.

Feathers on Black Wood’s body scattered backward. The battered armor on the Guardian’s surface clanged loudly. They roared, entwined in furious combat, fists and claws meeting again and again, the blows echoing like thunder. Their battle grew ever larger, the shockwaves dragging the surrounding meters into chaos.

Many corpses lying on the ground were thrown aside by the immense force; even in death, they could not escape a fate of mangled flesh. Severed limbs and broken bodies littered the earth in all directions.

The ground trembled under their relentless assault.

Whoosh! Black Wood’s head swung in a fierce hammer blow, smashing hard into a stone. The half-man-tall gray rock exploded instantly, showering fragments like bullets, punching deep pits into the earth.

The Guardian countered, his fist shooting out like a cannonball, but Black Wood deftly dodged. The punch struck a tree, blasting a huge crater; pale yellow sawdust fell like water, and the trunk groaned, its upper half collapsing.

Suddenly, a massive hand seized the trunk. The Guardian had picked up the five- or six-meter-long tree as a weapon. His statue-like muscles flexed, sweeping the tree with savage force, breaking three or four other trunks nearby.

There was no fancy technique—just brute strength, far more terrifying than Black Wood’s.

Black Wood was clipped by the tree’s edge and sent flying, skidding heavily across the ground. But in the next moment, it rose, wings beating.

The Guardian monster was already far weaker than before; though its strength could still overpower Black Wood, it no longer dominated with absolute force.

After leaving the black mist, its energy drained rapidly and it had unleashed several sword blasts. From over four meters tall, it had shrunk to less than three. Its bare-handed strength had plummeted, and even a sweep that struck Black Wood’s tough defenses caused only minor injuries.

The gap between them had narrowed to almost nothing.

Left and right, two dark shadows collided again, their blows drum-like, echoing to the heavens.

On the battlefield’s edge, some surviving indigenous rune masters crawled out from piles of corpses. Glancing at the demonic figures battling at the center, their faces turned pale, and they fled into the depths of the forest.

The Guardian and Xiunan ignored these lucky wretches; their attention was solely on each other!

To defeat the other with all their might—that was the ultimate goal of this battle!

Xiunan felt his mind spinning, the ring power surging ceaselessly within him, two runes operating in overload. It would damage the rune structure, but he had no choice.

Here, the slightest weakness meant death!

Boom! The two combatants separated once more.

The Guardian slammed into a tree trunk, scraping off thick bark, leaves raining down like a storm.

Black Wood retreated, its claws gouging deep pits in the earth; sometimes it accidentally crushed a corpse, the body exploding like a ragged sack.

The burst of gore covered a vast area, the thick stench of blood and burning rising skyward.

“Kuwata!”

The Guardian monster unleashed a roar unlike any before, black smoke erupting from its body like pillars. Liquid flames burned across its armor, twisting and writhing.

The tree behind it was instantly set ablaze, flames engulfing its trunk, heat radiating outward.

“It’s about to—”

Xiunan’s pupils contracted; he immediately sprinted away, mentally urging Black Wood to retreat fast.

At the same moment, the Guardian, wreathed in flames, charged at them, a terrifying aura growing stronger and stronger.

The massive pressure filled the battlefield.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The expanding liquid fire exploded, its terrifying heat rippling through the air. The violent blast engulfed an area dozens of meters wide, shattering all nearby trees.

Trunks on the ground burned swiftly to ash.

A brilliant beam shot into the sky. Looking down from above the woods, the area within twenty meters of the Guardian’s center had collapsed downward, cracks radiating outward, liquid black fire spewing from within.

The intense heat warped the air.

For a moment, the forest fell eerily silent. All sounds ceased except for the crackling of flames consuming wood—a sound that brought unease.

At the edge of the pit, three corpses began to tremble. A pitch-black figure crawled out from below, struggling upward. With a slap, a black hand gripped the pit’s rim.

Ten days later, by the riverside, in a small wooden cabin.

Sunlight gleamed, radiating an indescribable warmth. The sky was a vast, pure sapphire, with white clouds drifting like cotton.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

A series of chopping sounds echoed.

Through the cabin’s fence, one could see inside: beside a massive log stood a noble, slender figure. White Wood picked up a round log from the ground, placed it carefully, and struck it with its sharp beak, splitting the wood in two.

To its left, a pile of split logs already lay on the ground. Minutes later, White Wood finished chopping the wood and stacked it beneath the window.

It carried four or five pieces to the fire pit and tossed them in to stoke the flames, which gradually grew.

White Wood paced back to the cabin and soon emerged carrying a metal pot made from a bucket, gently setting it upon the prepared rack. Inside was clear water, ready for use.

Soon, the water boiled. White Wood brought two wooden bowls, one containing cleaned fish, the other chopped vegetables and spices.

It poured everything into the pot for a stew.

A faint scent of meat wafted skyward, carried by the wind toward the distant river.

Splash! Crystalline water droplets scattered.

A figure suddenly emerged from the river, clutching a lively white fish. Xiunan tossed his hair back, forming a wet, slick style. Swimming single-handedly to shore, he moved with remarkable agility.

Barefoot, he walked onto the grass, sunlight slanting across his body. Symmetrical muscles rose beneath his skin, forming broad shoulders and a solid, chiseled abdomen.

Water dripped from his eyelids and nose to his chin, falling onto his scarred body—marks that looked like traces left by explosions.

He shook his hair casually, strode into the cabin, cleaned the fish, and hung it on a wooden pole.

Then he grabbed a stool and sat beside the metal pot.

White Wood emerged from the cabin with a wooden bowl and a pair of usable chopsticks.

It nudged Xiunan’s shoulder, gurgling.

Its sapphire single eye narrowed slightly.

Xiunan, as White Wood wished, stroked its head in praise, rewarding it before pulling his hand back.

Though White Wood had become a rune creature, it could still survive on ring power as before. Eating was unnecessary for it.

If need be, Xiunan could always give it leftover bones...

He ladled out a steaming bowl of fish soup, inhaled its aroma, and his appetite surged. He downed two large bowls in quick succession.

Ten minutes later, he was full, and the sun had dried the water from his body.

He put on the pants hanging on the rack, summoned White Wood again, and fed it the remaining half of the fish.

Xiunan sat on a stool by the fence, a fish bone in his mouth, basking in the sun and pondering.

It had been ten days since that fierce battle. With ring power’s aid, most of Xiunan’s wounds had healed, but Black Wood had suffered grievous injuries; its rune structure was barely stable.

Black Wood had been closest to the Guardian, and the explosion had caused horrific damage. If Xiunan hadn’t noticed in time and ordered Black Wood to retreat quickly, its rune would have shattered then and there.

Even if the rune survived, its structure was gravely damaged. Xiunan could not summon Black Wood again until he fully repaired it.

He had to fill in the erased sections, restore the displaced parts, and fix the unstable areas.

It was a massive undertaking, impossible with just a stone tablet and four basic circuits. He had tried, but it barely helped.

Fortunately, White Wood, which had merely broken a wing, was patched up after Xiunan spent most of ten days working on it.

During that brutal battle, Xiunan paid dearly; Black Wood’s rune was nearly ruined.

But his gains were considerable. After the Guardian monster died in the explosion, Xiunan’s Bone Ring absorbed a damaged rune: Second Ring, Dark Guardian!

And a sword hilt that even the explosion couldn’t destroy...

It provided forty evolution points, and with others, Xiunan now had fifty-six.

Sadly, he could not use them yet.

Under the warm sun, Xiunan turned onto his side. He realized that all the monsters in the black mist ruins could be extracted for damaged runes—whether bone statues, blood-sucking vines, Guardian monsters, or the countless battle ghosts.

They seemed to share a common trait—obsession?

Just as the system described the battle ghosts:

"Battle Ghosts: Degenerate, yet still clinging to past glory... a corpse that has lost its ideals."

Even in death, the obsession remained. Did they still wish to command their runes to fight for glory?

For whom did they serve? For whom did they battle?

Xiunan shook his head, emptying his mind, and gradually drifted asleep in the warm sunlight.

At two o'clock, he awoke again, stood up, and looked through the fence toward the distant meadow.

There, numerous indigenous tribes had gathered.

But Xiunan had lost interest; most of their rune masters had perished in that battle ten days ago. The Guardian's sword blast and final explosion had wiped out at least four-fifths.

Those tribes no longer had rune masters.

Xiunan had investigated their altars, but no matter how he performed blood sacrifices, the sacred bones would never appear again.

Perhaps it was related to the collapse of the main ruins...

During these ten days, he couldn’t be bothered to hunt down the surviving, hiding rune masters. He spent his days painstakingly repairing runes in the cabin, occasionally hunting or fishing, or simply basking in the sun as he was now.

One cannot always be wound tight—eventually, the thread snaps or curls into a ball.

And so, the days passed, and fifty soon came and went. Today was the last day of Bone Island’s soul hunt.

“We should go... White Wood...”

Xiunan quietly approached the rack, took his white shirt, and draped it over his shoulders. He glanced at the cabin he had built with his own hands, gently closed the door.

He turned and walked away, snapping his fingers.

A graceful figure soared from the courtyard, merging with his back in a flash.

A white fish bone dropped from midair.

Half an hour later, a solitary figure stood atop a black cliff. The damp sea breeze swept his hair back, the woods behind rustling like rainfall.

Xiunan glanced at the countdown—five minutes remained.

He had long since completed all the tasks.

Survive fifty days; today was the fiftieth.

Evade the pursuit of the Senran tribe—most of their rune masters perished in that battle.

Survive the assassin Tie Yang’s hunt—Tie Yang was dead, his corpse crushed into pulp.

All that remained was to wait for the ship.

Then board it, and the mission would end.

Waves crashed against the cliffs, shattering into white foam.

In the distance, a tall cruise ship sailed along its route, passengers on deck seemingly admiring the scenery.

It would reach the closest point to the island in four minutes.

Xiunan stood silently, waiting.

Two minutes later, Dead-Eyed Vulture grew from his body, its claws gripping his shoulders as it soared skyward.

Beating its wings, it swiftly drew near the ship.

On the deck, a young man glanced at the sky. “Hey, do you see someone flying over there?”

His friend turned, bewildered. “Where? Are you seasick and hallucinating?”

“Huh?” The youth looked back, but the sky was clear blue—no one flying, not even a hovering seabird.

“Did I really see wrong? Impossible, I’m not seasick…”

He shook his head, gripping the railing.

“You’re not seasick? Then come have a drink with me!” His friend clapped him on the shoulder.

“All right…” The two walked back side by side, but were stopped by a handsome uncle approaching.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, do you know where the restroom is?”