Preparing to Flee

Just as an ice cone was about to pierce him, at the critical moment, reacting instinctively to the danger, the demon dodged to the side, expertly evading the ice cone.

The ice cone struck the ground, making a few "thud" sounds.

The demon didn't attack Han Zhiqi. Instead, it crouched on the ground, brought the blood-stained soil in its hand to its nose, and a look of joy appeared on its face.

Unable to suppress its craving for human blood, the demon quickly stuffed the soil into its mouth. After chewing a few times, it realized the taste was wrong and immediately spat it out.

It then gnawed on the soil in its hand a few more times, but it was still not right. Finally, after spitting out all the soil from its mouth, it raised its head and looked at Han Zhiqi with chilling eyes. It seemed to realize that this wonderful taste came from the prey before it.

Han Zhiqi had originally intended to use his own blood to distract the demon and create an opportunity to attack. However, he had inadvertently made things worse, further igniting its craving for blood.

The demon stared intently at Han Zhiqi and began to slowly approach him.

Han Zhiqi glanced back at the path up the mountain and thought to himself, Why hasn't the Trainer made a move yet?

How long does he intend to test me?

Does he really have to wait until my life is hanging by a thread before he acts?

In that brief moment of distraction, the demon suddenly stomped forcefully on the ground and leaped up again. Stimulated by the scent of blood, its speed and power were even more ferocious than before, leaving a deep crater in the ground where it had pushed off.

With no other choice, Han Zhiqi had to continue to engage it. His chest, struck by the demon, ached faintly, and his breathing was somewhat affected.

He had been hoping for the Trainer to intervene in time, which would have saved him from this desperate struggle. But the man's continued absence left him confused.

Was his performance not satisfactory enough?

Since the Trainer was unwilling to help, he had to re-evaluate his current situation.

Initially, there were two paths available: first, to flee, and second, to fight.

After some analysis, he chose the second option.

Of course, there were two scenarios for fighting: one was to avoid combat.

This involved dodging, counter-attacking passively, and stalling for time, with the goal of waiting for the Trainer to act.

The other scenario was to actively engage in battle.

Considering his physical condition, Han Zhiqi chose the first scenario: avoiding combat and stalling for time.

But the Trainer still hadn't made a move, and he began to worry if the demon's appearance wasn't a test at all.

After all, no one had told him there were demons in the mountains before he came; everything was just his speculation.

What if this demon had appeared here by chance? If he continued with the first scenario, stalling for time and waiting for the Trainer's rescue, he might end up exhausting himself and becoming the demon's meal before the Trainer ever arrived.

Therefore, from this moment on, he had to abandon all illusions and prepare for the worst.

No tests, no Trainer, and no expectation of rescue. There was no other way but to fight for his life.

The demon darted into the nearby bushes, using the cover of the grass to move swiftly. Occasionally, a rustling sound would come from a clump of grass, only to disappear quickly.

Han Zhiqi gripped his wooden staff, nervously watching the surrounding bushes. Any slight disturbance would make him turn his head to look.

Suddenly, the demon burst out from the bushes behind Han Zhiqi, lunging directly at his back.

Han Zhiqi turned, but it was too late to dodge. He was knocked to the ground by the demon.

The demon roared, opening its gaping maw to bite at his throat.

Han Zhiqi held his wooden staff horizontally across his chest, blocking the demon's hands and mouth, desperately preventing it from getting closer. He then kicked it in the stomach.

Taking advantage of its pain and momentary wail, he used both hands to flip it onto the ground and scrambled to his feet.

"Shattering Timed Rain."

Han Zhiqi swung his wooden staff, launching several ice cones at the demon.

The demon hastily dodged to the side, evading the ice cones. It then leaped and weaved rapidly, quickly closing the distance between itself and Han Zhiqi.

Han Zhiqi retreated while swinging his staff, the surrounding cold air gradually fading as his stamina waned.

The demon seemed to notice this and accelerated its attack, constantly using rapid movements to wear down Han Zhiqi's spirit and stamina. It would occasionally launch surprise attacks when he wasn't paying attention.

After a fierce exchange, both sides had sustained injuries, but compared to the demon, Han Zhiqi appeared much more disheveled.

His body was covered in dirt from rolling on the ground. His chest was a bloody mess, the bandages torn by the demon's claws, and blood was now congealing with the mud.

Already weakened, his face was now deathly pale and covered in sweat. On top of the severe chest wound, every breath sent a searing pain through his lungs.

Besides a few obvious scratches, there were countless other minor injuries.

The demon wasn't faring much better. Its body was covered in frozen wounds, and there was a gaping hole in its waist from the wooden staff, also covered in ice, which looked somewhat gruesome.

Although both sides were in dire straits, there was one crucial difference Han Zhiqi couldn't overcome: the demon didn't feel fatigue and possessed unlimited stamina. If this continued, the demon would surely win.

Both sides clearly realized this reality, which was why the demon had shifted from active offense to harassment, continuously draining Han Zhiqi's stamina.

Suddenly, Han Zhiqi accidentally stepped on a pebble, his foot slipped, and he fell backward.

How could the demon let such a golden opportunity pass? With a few swift movements, it instantly appeared directly above Han Zhiqi, its mouth wide open, aiming for his windpipe.

Han Zhiqi looked back, staring directly at the demon. A cold smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He took a deep breath and shouted, "Swift Ice Thorn."

He gripped a broken piece of wooden staff in his right hand. The staff emanated a chilling aura, encased in ice, resembling a sharp spear thrust directly into the demon's throat.

"Swift Ice Thorn" was a move Han Zhiqi had come up with on the spot. When he dueled Aoi Kanzaki at the Butterfly Mansion, he had paid attention after seeing her use a move called "Stinging Rain Ripple."

This technique isn't difficult to learn; the key is to use your waist's power to twist and concentrate your entire body's strength onto the tip of the blade for a rapid thrust.

His earlier slip was a feint he deliberately showed the demon, aiming to lure it into attacking first.

He was confident that, in mid-air, even a demon couldn't move its body nimbly.

Just as he expected, the creature took the bait.

The wooden staff was driven fiercely into the demon's throat, piercing it completely.

The demon let out a shrill scream and began to twist its body frantically.

Han Zhiqi's back slammed heavily onto the ground. He put all his strength into swinging the staff, trying to shake off the demon clinging to it.

However, at the moment of piercing, the staff and the demon's neck froze together. As the demon was flung away, the staff also flew out of his hand.

The demon crashed into a large tree and tumbled into a bush.

Before long, rustling sounds came from the bush. The demon stumbled backward out of the foliage, its hands gripping the staff in its neck, desperately trying to pull it out. Strange gurgling noises, like bubbling spring water, came from its mouth.

Han Zhiqi struggled to get up from the ground, gagging a few times. The impact had left his stomach churning, and his head throbbed as if being pricked by needles.

He knew this wasn't the time to rest; his current stamina was only enough for one more attack.

Therefore, he had to launch his final assault before the demon could pull out the staff, at least incapacitating it for a short time to buy himself time to escape.