Gray Mist, Blood Monkey?

The stables and barracks before him were no longer there; row after row of camp buildings had vanished, replaced only by clusters of gray mist.

Chen Mo's heart tensed. He reached back and felt the haystack—still there.

Even if his Mortal Transformation had taken far longer than he'd estimated, there was no way a fog this thick could have rolled in without any warning signs.

Everything within sight was blotted out. Aside from the gray-white mist and the haystack behind him, he could see nothing—not even the stable that should have been right next to the haystack.

And even if fog were possible, he'd never heard of any mist that was gray.

Chen Mo waved a hand in front of his face. Some of the mist shifted with his movement, but most of it remained utterly still.

He didn't call out to anyone. In the camp, leaving quarters at night or shouting loudly were serious crimes.

If caught, he'd get at least eighty strokes of the rod. Without someone greasing palms to plead for leniency, that was basically a death sentence.

One hand resting on the haystack, Chen Mo reached out with the other toward where the stable should have been.

But all he touched was gray mist—nothing else.

Chen Mo took two deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. He pinched himself hard, and a sharp, unmistakable pain shot straight to his brain.

He couldn't figure out what was happening. It wasn't like his Mortal Transformation could have driven him insane!

He swallowed, then tore a few stalks of hay from the stack behind him and quickly twisted them together.

Before long, a thin grass rope over two zhang long was in his hands. Crude, but usable.

He had no idea what this gray mist was—whether it was just an immense fog hiding everything, or if something else had happened.

If not for the haystack still being there, he might have suspected he'd crossed into another world.

After all, if crossing worlds could happen once, it could damn well happen twice.

Tying one end of the rope to the haystack and gripping the other tightly, he cautiously stepped forward.

If he'd missed the stable earlier because the distance was too short, now he was far enough. As long as the stable still existed, he'd hit it.

But even when the haystack disappeared from sight and the rope pulled taut, everything he could reach was still empty void.

Up, down, left, right, in every direction—nothing but gray mist.

Even the ground was just mist. Chen Mo could stand on it, but when he tried to touch the dirt, he found nothing.

The surface he walked on in the gray mist was flat, smooth, and solid—like steel forged a thousand times.

Unwilling to give up, Chen Mo circled the entire haystack. Still, he touched nothing.

Aside from himself and the haystack, the whole camp seemed to have been swallowed and drowned by the gray mist, leaving nothing behind.

Of course, there was another possibility: the camp was still there, and he and the haystack had entered the gray mist world.

Either way, it made no difference to his current situation.

He had to find a way out of here, or soon he'd be considering eating dry grass to survive.

"Wuhah!" A sudden screech shattered the silence of the gray mist world.

The sound seemed to come from some kind of animal—shrill and hoarse, like two rough sheets of iron scraping slowly together. It set his teeth on edge.

Chen Mo followed the sound. A creature no more than three chi tall came into view—short, thin, with sharp fangs and a humanoid shape.

No matter how he looked at it, it was very much like a monkey.

With one difference: it had no fur.

Its skin looked as if it had been ripped off while it was still alive. Red, bloody muscle was exposed directly to the air. Just one glance made his scalp crawl.

"Hohr!" The Blood Monkey let out a piercing shriek, its pale eyeballs rolling in their sockets.

Chen Mo slowly slid his feet backward. This Blood Monkey was too eerie and terrifying. Unless necessary, he wanted nothing to do with it.

But the creature twisted its head, staring straight at Chen Mo, and the next moment lunged at him.

The Blood Monkey moved fast—like a bloody gust of wind, carrying a stench of rot and decay.

Chen Mo hurriedly raised his fists to block. To his shock, the Blood Monkey had incredible strength. Even after his Mortal Transformation, he could barely hold his own.

"Wuaah!" The Blood Monkey screeched again after its failed strike, leaping far back.

Chen Mo frowned, looking at his trembling arms.

This Blood Monkey's whole body was as hard as refined iron. Though his strength was close to its, he was still just flesh and blood.

If this kept up, after a few more exchanges, he'd end up dead at this beast's hands.

The Blood Monkey was clever. It seemed to sense Chen Mo's weakness, baring its teeth in a threatening grin as it circled him.

Chen Mo felt a surge of regret. Since arriving at the camp, life had been hard, but at least it was stable.

After getting used to that stability, he'd never thought to carry a weapon on him.

If he had a blade now, he could at least put up a fight against this beast.

But with just his bare hands, taking on a Blood Monkey with flesh like copper and bones like iron was far too difficult.

Truth be told, he couldn't really be blamed. The situation he was in now, the scene before him—it was beyond what anyone could have expected.

He'd never imagined or considered that something like this could suddenly happen.

If he managed to survive this ordeal by some stroke of luck, Chen Mo resolved that from now on, even when sleeping, he would keep a dagger tucked against his chest.

"Wah-ha!" The Blood Monkey let out another shrill, miserable cry, its spine arching at an eerily unnatural angle before it suddenly sprang forward, lunging at Chen Mo's lower body.

Chen Mo didn't dodge. He kicked out with full force, the impact numbing his left leg, but it was just enough to halt the Blood Monkey's advance.

The Blood Monkey, however, wrapped both arms tightly around his thigh, opening its gaping, blood-drenched maw to bite down.

Without a moment's hesitation, Chen Mo dropped to his knees, pinning the Blood Monkey beneath him, his knees pressing hard against the beast's chest and abdomen.

"Ha!" The Blood Monkey roared in defiance, a foul stench of rot mixed with bloody, rancid wind blasting straight into Chen Mo's face.

It struggled fiercely, thrashing and clawing, but Chen Mo ignored everything else. One hand clamped the monkey's head down, while the other fist hammered relentlessly at its neck.

The Blood Monkey's body felt as if it were forged from solid iron. After just seven or eight punches, Chen Mo's knuckles were already raw and bleeding.

Still, he gritted his teeth and kept pounding away at the Blood Monkey. In this situation, one of them had to die.

Chen Mo didn't want to die, so he had to send this beast to its grave.

He lost count of how many punches he threw. His arm went numb, and the Blood Monkey finally stopped struggling, its body going limp and lifeless.

Chen Mo gasped for air, collapsing to sit on the ground, staring at the now-still Blood Monkey.

To his surprise, the corpse began to dissolve and disintegrate. In an instant, it vanished like a wisp of smoke.

All that remained in its place was a rough, fist-sized crimson stone, its surface scarred with ridges and grooves—a Bloodstone.