Ethan looked out through the hull of the shuttle.
Blue sky, white clouds, and sunlight.
Below him lay a continuous range of mountains.
Dark green forests covered every mountain within sight, the trees tall and dense, their canopies layered one over the other.
Deep, bottomless canyons cut between the mountains, with winding rivers barely visible at their floors.
The World-Breach Shuttle began its descent.
The runes on the hull gradually dimmed. The descent wasn't fast, but it was steady.
Ethan steered the shuttle toward the nearest mountain peak.
The vessel passed through layers of clouds and thin mist, and the mountain's silhouette grew clearer.
It was a moderately high peak, its slopes blanketed in thick vegetation.
Halfway up the mountain, there was a relatively flat area surrounded by dense trees, making it difficult to spot from the air.
The World-Breach Shuttle landed steadily on that open patch of ground.
Ethan jumped out of the cabin and beckoned with his right hand.
The shuttle quickly shrank, returning to the size of his palm.
Ethan took a moment to sense his surroundings. He discovered that the energy particles in this world were quite different from the Wizard World. Wood-element particles were the majority, while the activity of other elemental particles was relatively poor.
If an apprentice of another element had come here, they might have been genuinely affected.
They would have needed at least several hours to adjust to the frequency of energy particle activity in Amons World.
Fortunately, Ethan was already primary in the wood attribute. He didn't need much adjustment at all in Amons World; he felt perfectly adapted.
He then turned and dashed down the mountain.
The landing had made quite a commotion. Amons natives would definitely come to investigate.
He needed to run.
Fifty kilometers wasn't enough; he needed to cover at least two hundred.
Ethan crossed seven mountains, traversed thirteen canyons, and passed through two dense forests.
Finally, he came to a stop.
Before him was an open valley. In the center of the valley, dozens of wooden houses were scattered about. The houses were built from dark brown logs, their roofs covered with thick thatch. Smoke rose from several rooftops, drifting over the valley.
A village.
Ethan pulled a palm-sized silver mirror from his storage ring.
The mirror reflected an unfamiliar face.
Pale green skin, long pointed ears extending diagonally upward from the sides of his head, amber eyes, a thin face, and high cheekbones.
This was the appearance altered by his concealment Wizardry Tool.
"Mm, I look like a native."
Ethan put away the mirror and began walking toward the village.
His pace was neither fast nor slow, his stride bold and open.
Two thoughts were circling in his mind.
Should he gather information first and then kill, or kill first and then ask for information?
"Tsk, what a dilemma."
When he was about two hundred meters from the village entrance, a head popped out of the wooden watchtower on the left slope.
It was an Amons man with pale green skin, long pointed ears extending diagonally upward, and amber eyes shimmering in the sunlight. He held a crude hunting bow wrapped in dark brown vines.
"Stay back!" The hunting bow was raised, the arrow pointed at Ethan. "Who are you? Which tribe?"
Ethan stopped in his tracks.
"The Morsel Tribe."
The sentry's brow furrowed. He turned his head and shouted something down the tower in a dialect Ethan didn't understand. An aged voice replied from below in the same tongue.
The sentry turned back, his amber eyes scanning Ethan from head to toe.
"Morsel Tribe? Never heard of it. Get lost immediately."
Ethan looked up, his amber eyes glinting in the sunlight.
"Tsk, such a bad attitude. Fine. I was going to let you live a bit longer, but forget it. I'll help you find release."
The sentry blinked. "What?"
Ethan raised his right hand.
Three emerald-green leaves shot out from his palm.
The sentry instinctively tried to step back, but before his foot could even lift, the first leaf pierced his left eye, the second his right, and the third slit his throat.
The amber eyeballs burst in their sockets as pale green fluid gushed out.
Pale green blood sprayed from the wound in his throat, splashing against the wooden railing of the tower.
The sentry's body toppled backward. The hunting bow slipped from his fingers, bounced once on the tower floor, fell through a gap in the railing, and hit the rocky ground below.
【Life Energy +22, Current Life Energy: 6897.】
"Twenty-two points," Ethan raised an eyebrow. "A single sentry gives this much? Then..."
The commotion in the village interrupted Ethan's train of thought.
The aged voice beneath the tower turned into a scream.
The doors of the wooden houses were pushed open one after another.
Amons rushed out—men, women, the elderly, and half-grown children.
Some gripped hunting bows, some carried wooden spears, and others were empty-handed.
They saw the twitching corpse atop the tower and the pale green bloodstains on the railing.
Screams, roars, and wails erupted throughout the valley.
An Amons strongman, over three meters tall, burst out from the wooden house in the center of the village.
His bare upper body was covered in blue-black patterns, and he carried a wooden-handled battle-axe as thick as a man's arm.
His amber eyes bulged, and his mouth hung wide, revealing teeth stained dark green by some plant juice.
"Outsider!" his voice boomed, making the thatch on the roofs tremble. "Kill him!"
Dozens of Amons men charged toward the village entrance simultaneously.
Ethan raised his right hand.
Thousand Leaf Daggers.
Ethan raised his right hand.
Emerald-green leaves shot out from his palm.
The strongman with the blue-black tattoos was in the lead. Three leaves pierced his throat, his left eye, and his right eye simultaneously.
His body continued to charge forward, the momentum carrying his three-meter frame two more steps before he crashed to the ground.
The battle-axe flew from his hand and slammed into the wall of a wooden house, carving a half-meter-long crack.
The first row of charging Amons men all fell.
Before the second row could react, the next wave of leaf daggers arrived.
Then the third wave.
And the fourth.
Pale green blood flowed freely across the gravel at the village entrance, merging into small streams that trickled toward the lower ground.
An Amons woman clutching a child rushed out of a wooden house, running toward the forest behind the village.
A leaf pierced the back of her neck and emerged from her throat.
Her body pitched forward, and the child in her arms tumbled to the ground, letting out a sharp, wailing cry.
Another leaf followed.
The wailing stopped abruptly.
An old man knelt in the center of the village, his hands raised to the sky as he chanted a prayer Ethan couldn't understand. His amber eyes were filled with terror, and tears streaked his pale green face.
A leaf passed through the center of his brow.
The old man collapsed while still in a kneeling position, his forehead hitting the gravel. Pale green blood welled from the small hole in his forehead, spreading through the cracks in the stones.
A half-grown Amons youth crawled out from a haystack on the side of the village, clutching a sickle used for harvesting grain.
He saw the corpses littering the ground, saw his kin still twitching, and saw the outsider standing at the village entrance, his right hand still glowing with a pale green light.
The youth's hand trembled as he gripped the sickle.
Ethan's finger twitched.
A leaf pierced the youth's left temple and exited through the right.
The youth's body froze in place. The sickle slipped from his hand, its tip sinking into the dirt by his feet.
His body toppled sideways onto the haystack, pale green blood oozing from the wounds in his temples and soaking into the straw beneath him.
Rate on N.U.
