Chapter Fifty-Five: The Nirvana Chimera and Wordsworth

Chapter Fifty-Five: The Nirvana of the Fei Beast and Wordsworth

With a hint from the Dream Fox, Xia Zheng first set out to gather Fuming Grass. This herb grew in extremely remote places, hidden underwater beneath layers of ice—completely out of reach for ordinary means. Fortunately, with the Dream Fox’s help, he managed to dig up over a dozen stalks after much effort, which was already a rare feat.

“No wonder that wealthy patron is willing to offer a million for the three ingredients—this is no easy task. I used to think it’d be simple, but now I see it’s among the most difficult of B-level missions,” Xia Zheng muttered as he crawled shivering from beneath the ice. The Dream Fox swiftly wrapped him in a thick pelt, soon warming him through.

Seeing the curiosity on his face, she explained, “This is woven from the fur shed by my fox clan—an excellent charm against the cold.”

“Oh, thank you.” Though it felt a little odd, the effect was undeniable.

With the Fuming Grass collected, only the Jueming Snow Fox and the Fei Beast remained.

According to the Dream Fox, the Fei Beast was about to undergo another rebirth—its Nirvana—which was likely to happen within the next few days. This also happened to be the prime time to hunt the Jueming Snow Fox.

The Dream Fox brewed a cup of fragrant, sweet fruit tea for Xia Zheng. After drinking it, he felt warmth flood his body and his strength return. Indeed, life was easier with a woman looking after him.

With the Dream Fox in tow, he set off again, searching places where she remembered the Fei Beast often appeared.

Three days later, they descended from the sky and began their search. Xia Zheng swept an expanse of snow away with his mental power, revealing withered and dead plants below—parched earth, perfectly matching the Fei Beast’s presence.

“Master, I’m eighty percent certain the Fei Beast passed through here not more than six hours ago,” the Dream Fox said, sniffing a handful of dried grass. Her nose seemed exceptionally keen, particularly regarding the Fei Beast.

Xia Zheng nodded, asked for the direction, then hoisted the Dream Fox onto his back and unfurled his spirit wings, soaring after it. When he felt his mental energy flagging, he immediately swallowed an energy fruit, his reserves quickly restored, allowing him to fly at full speed without worry.

By now, the snowstorm had ceased for several days, and the melting snow revealed more of the scarred earth beneath—a telltale effect of the Fei Beast’s aura. Grass withered in its path, water dried up; wherever it went, it was as though plague had swept through. The beast itself was not poisonous, but carried an aura of pestilence. Yet, as the Dream Fox explained, today’s Fei Beast, though formidable, was nothing compared to the ancient breed. It had been artificially altered, and while its immortality made it dangerous, it now rarely strayed beyond the northernmost frontier, rendering it little threat to humans.

They pursued the trail for another day. This time, the signs were even clearer: a swath of land stretching a hundred miles was marred like scars, radiating death and menace.

Xia Zheng took a detoxification pill, while the Dream Fox, accustomed to the mystical fruits and herbs of her homeland, was also immune. Neither feared the Fei Beast’s poison.

Moo!

A piercing bellow, like that of a bull, echoed from afar. The Dream Fox’s face changed. “The Fei Beast is about to undergo Nirvana. Master, be cautious. At this moment, its destructive power will be at its peak. We must not disturb it.”

Xia Zheng nodded and immediately landed with the Dream Fox, seeking a concealed spot to hide. He wasn’t about to be foolish—since the Fei Beast was destined to die and revive, all he needed to do was collect some of its unique materials and take a few photos to complete the task. Why not?

But as they watched, a sudden beam of light blazed from the distance, thunder rolling behind it. A man’s laughter rang out: “Heaven favors me! After trailing you for so many years, I finally catch you at the end of your life. Let me ease your pain and claim you as my prey!”

The voice was familiar. Xia Zheng’s mind flashed to a man’s face. With his formidable memory, he never forgot a voice, and quickly matched it to the one who had ambushed him before—it was a perfect fit.

“It’s him?” Xia Zheng said, surprised. The Dream Fox asked for details, and after his explanation, she sneered, “That fool dares attack while the Fei Beast undergoes Nirvana.”

“Come, let’s see for ourselves. He is an enemy—I swore I would not rest until one of us is dead.” With that, Xia Zheng charged ahead, the Dream Fox transforming and following at equal speed.

A few kilometers away, in a massive sinkhole, the Fei Beast—colossal as a hill—howled in agony, knowing it was about to face life and death anew. At its feet, a pure-white, delicate Snow Fox gazed up at it with tearful eyes, whimpering in sorrow, loath to part.

But it knew the Fei Beast would revive in three days, as it always had. The Fei Beast looked down at its only companion, the Snow Fox, and ceased its wailing. It understood its fate—having a friend by its side in the face of death was enough.

Just as it closed its eyes and lay down, thunder crashed, and a human’s laughter rang in its ears, driving it to rage. It might not understand human language, but it knew ill intent when it sensed it. The man’s purpose was clear.

An aura surged from the Fei Beast, its body rising proudly as it leapt from the pit to the ground. Waves of death radiated in all directions, the land turning black and dead. If before the earth seemed merely desolate, now it was a domain of death itself.

Hovering above was Wordsworth Walker. Since being startled by Xia Zheng’s awakening spiritual sense, he had fled north to his stronghold—few ability users dared venture into the far northern mountains.

These years, besides ambushing fellow ability hunters and amassing treasures, his other pursuit was the Fei Beast. Not because of the Professional League’s bounty, but because the beast could enhance a venomous art he had begun cultivating—one that required toxic ingredients. If he obtained the Fei Beast’s materials, he might break through to A-rank, even S-rank, making him a top-tier ability hunter. At S-rank, even the league would have to tolerate him, and would not dare issue a public warrant. S-rank ability users were the Federation’s assets—the military would protect them, for humans had too few high-level ability users compared to the Blood Clan. Unless one was utterly depraved, even notorious S-rank criminals were usually exiled to Evernight City to serve as battle slaves, rarely killed outright.

Wordsworth had tracked the Fei Beast for years, attacking several times to no avail—almost dying himself, if not for his unique abilities in flight and stealth.

From his years of pursuit, he’d discovered a shocking truth: the Fei Beast was dying, its time almost up.

So, he had doggedly followed, and now, at the edge of the Federation’s northernmost frontier—a place untouched for decades—he finally found the beast in its final throes. He felt no fear; with his strength, even if he failed, he was confident he could escape.

The Fei Beast quickly locked onto the human above, recognizing its old nemesis—this man had ambushed it before, and now, new and old grudges surged together in its dying fury.

Wordsworth felt a surge of mortal danger fix on him, his eyes flashing as he dodged sideways, feet kicking up a gust.

A beam of black light swept past his former position, filling the air with the stench of decay.

“Close call, you brute,” Wordsworth steadied himself, circling the Fei Beast. His flight depended on his rare “Windwalker Boots,” which absorbed his ability energy to keep him aloft—though only up to a hundred meters, and not very fast. Even so, it was far beyond most ability users. Flight skills, gear, and artifacts were exceedingly rare, fetching sky-high prices.

The Fei Beast unleashed ray after ray of deathly darkness, but Wordsworth evaded each attack—though the beast’s speed increased, and he began to feel the strain.

“Water Bomb!” he cried, conjuring a sphere of water and hurling it at the beast, but it vanished before reaching its target.

“Damn, I forgot it counters water-based attacks.” Wordsworth cursed. His main strength was water-elemental abilities, but the Fei Beast was his bane, leaving him nearly frantic.

Abandoning water skills, he switched to a technique he had recently learned. Toxic yellow-green fumes coiled around him, his face twisting with malice—a power he’d acquired from years of killing rivals and looting treasures: the “Venomous Flame Art,” a blend of fire and poison from ancient times. Mastered, it was said to make one invincible, even against most S-rank powerhouses.

“Let’s see if you can counter fire!” Wordsworth pressed his palms together, conjuring twin streams of poisonous flame that merged into a roaring toxic dragon, surging toward the Fei Beast.

The beast showed no fear, only madness in its eyes. Raising a forelimb, it struck the earth, its body swelling to mountain-like proportions, diminishing even the toxic dragon’s brilliance.

Moo!

With a furious roar, the Fei Beast charged headlong into the venomous dragon, the ground quaking as a B+ rank human ability user and a B-rank blood beast clashed before the hidden Xia Zheng and Dream Fox.