Chapter 259: The Crimson Clan

A dry branch snapped in two beneath Wang Yu’s boot, the sound crisp and sudden amidst the stillness of the forest floor. The thick canopy of the Sorensen Mountains filtered the sunlight, casting this part of the forest in a shadowy gloom.

Wang Yu tapped lightly on the space between his right brow and eye as he turned his head, scanning the dense forest they had just entered. The tapping seemed superfluous, but in truth, it served a precise purpose: calibrating the Perfect Fractal spell cast upon his right eye.

“There’s nothing particularly unusual here,” he murmured. “I’ve circled the foothills. The spell hasn’t sensed anything out of the ordinary. The vegetation is different from that in the Forest of Origin, but that’s normal. We’ll need to venture deeper.”

A translucent magical lens hovered before Wang Yu’s right eye, its intricate mechanism clicking and shifting as if it were a real, tangible device. It responded to his subtle taps, adjusting its settings and functions accordingly.

Lines of information scrolled across his vision. Whenever Wang Yu focused his attention on an object, his mental energy transmitted that intent to the lens.

The lens projected magical energy outward, analyzed what it encountered, and returned detailed feedback in the form of text.

[Scarlet Birch. 73 years old. Healthy. Minor insect damage and root aging observed. Estimated remaining lifespan: 217 years. Non-magical plant. …]

As Wang Yu’s gaze lingered on a thriving birch tree, the spell immediately supplied its report.

His tapping served to fine-tune the lens’s “magnification”—the greater the zoom, the more data it returned. But too much information could clutter the view. The key was to balance detail and clarity.

“Impressive. Lady Avia’s spell is truly remarkable. I’ve never seen such a comprehensive and intuitive support-type spell,” Sif marveled.

She was perched atop a nearby tree and likewise using Avia’s Perfect Fractal. The scrolling data and overlaying information felt both alien and exhilarating to her.

Time, wind speed, temperature—all that and more was arrayed along the periphery of her vision. When she focused on a particular object, its relevant data hovered before her in translucent detail.

At first, like Wang Yu, she had been overwhelmed by a flood of trivial data. But after learning how to fine-tune the lens’s settings, she was quickly awed by its analytical prowess.

Tasks that would normally demand intuition and experience were now automatically interpreted, with conclusions presented in a neat summary.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sif spotted what looked like animal tracks. With a flicker of attention, the lens identified their origin: species, age, and when the creature had passed. It all surfaced with nothing more than a mental directive.

Even more useful for a combatant, though, was the spell’s uncanny aptitude for reconnaissance.

Drawing an arrow, Sif nocked it onto her longbow and aimed toward a dense thicket ahead. Her lens outlined a form within, glowing red, a warning of danger. Hidden there was a venomous magical serpent.

The unenchanted arrow shot forth with nary a whisper and pinned the serpent mid-strike, killing it instantly. As the creature died, the red outline in her vision vanished.

“How’s the mana drain?” Wang Yu asked as he approached, bending down to retrieve the dead serpent. “Avia, I didn’t realize this spell of yours could even be shared with others.”

He pressed a finger to the snake’s skull, letting the Chariot’s power squeeze the creature’s venom sacs. A thin stream of emerald toxin dripped into a small vial he carried—an addition to his growing poison arsenal.

“As long as I don’t keep it zoomed in all the way,” Avia’s voice replied in his ear, “its mana cost stays at around half my natural recovery rate. It’s totally sustainable. The real limitation is distance. The spell still relies on my knowledge base.”

Avia herself remained unseen. She was cloaked beneath a modified version of the Advanced Invisibility spell that allowed her to move with them in silence.

“So theoretically,” Wang Yu mused, “you could hook this spell into an external database?”

“Exactly,” she confirmed. “At its core, this spell is a processor linked to a scanner. The analysis it performs is entirely dependent on the reference data it has access to. And that library isn’t bound to me alone.”

“Damn,” Wang Yu muttered. “That’s… incredible.”

From his unique perspective as a transmigrator, Perfect Fractal was a terrifyingly scalable spell. The more knowledge it absorbed, the more it could dissect and explain. It would only become more powerful with time.

“Perfect” wasn’t a matter of arrogance—given enough time and data, the spell might truly live up to its name.

“Watch out,” came Sif’s voice, cautious and alert. “I see masked figures moving this way—some dark elves, and… humans? They seem to be knights-in-training. Not too strong. I can’t tell if they’re friendly yet.”

The senses of elven rangers were always sharp in a forest. The trees had spoken to Sif, conveying echoes of movement far beyond normal hearing.

She tapped her brow again. The lens zoomed like a pair of binoculars, pulling distant shapes into sharp relief.

Several figures moved through the brush several hundred meters ahead. They wore exaggerated masks painted with garish expressions. They were bare-chested, robed from the waist down, and steadily closing in.

“Do they know we’re here, or is it a coincidence?” Sif whispered, already stringing another arrow.

She thought for a moment, then answered her own question. “No coincidence. Their path is too direct, and they keep moving straight toward us. I don’t recognize them either. Corruption, maybe…? These weren’t among the Sorensen natives I knew.”

“Let’s not start anything unless we have to,” Wang Yu said. “You two stay hidden. I’ll go make contact.”

He stepped forward openly, emerging from the underbrush and allowing the masked figures to glimpse him in full.

They paused, seemingly surprised by his appearance, then advanced in a loose semicircle. There were about a dozen of them, armed with crude but functional spears and knives.

“I mean no harm,” Wang Yu said calmly, hands raised. “Are you residents of the Sorensen Mountains? If possible, I’d like to ask a few questions.”

Wang Yu was trying to appear as unarmed and harmless as possible so that the natives would lower their guard. After all, if it came to a fight, he could do almost as well with his bare fists.

He spoke in the common tongue. The masked figures clearly understood him; they halted, wary but attentive. One of them stepped forward bearing a staff-like object.

“You are a trespasser, outsider,” came the reply—a coarse, rasping voice. “You have entered the lands of the Crimson Clan. This is a grave offense. You must be punished.”

Wang Yu frowned. So much for peaceful intent.

“I was unaware this land belonged to your clan,” he said. “I apologize. I have no desire to fight. I’ll leave at once.”

But the masked leader shook his head.”Leaving won’t spare you. The ancestral spirits have spoken—three outsiders entered our domain. According to tradition, half must be sacrificed to the spirits. That means two.”

The man tapped his staff against the ground. “I only see one. Have the other two fled? Or are you hiding them? If you wish to live, surrender them. Your life may be spared.”

“So,” Wang Yu said flatly, “either I give up my companions, or I die here?”

He was expressionless. These fools clearly had no understanding of his capabilities. He had no interest in conflict—but if they forced his hand, he was hardly going to show mercy.

“Correct. Choose.”

Another tap. The others began to encircle him.

“What a revolting custom…” Wang Yu thought to himself.

He didn’t move. He didn’t need to. A transformation was already starting to take place. The air around them shimmered. Unseen and silent, the Chariot’s power stirred. Toxins began to seep into the forest air, cloaking the space in an invisible veil of death.

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