Putting the plan into action

Lu Heng went back into the house and closed the door.

The herd of beasts outside was still lying on the edge of the wasteland, but he didn't look at them again.

This matter cannot be completed in one day. It's too hasty to start right after agreeing. Animals may not understand such intricacies, human relationships, or remember who owes whom—but Lu Heng himself can't accept it.

It's not good to just help someone who asks for your help without hesitation.

He was clueless about social niceties, but he still had a sense of pride. This pride wasn't for those beasts to see; it was for himself.

Let it air dry for a day.

Let them stay there, hungry and patient, to memorize their location and clearly distinguish the boundary between man and forest. When he goes out again tomorrow, it won't be a transaction, it will be the rules.

He also had things to do that day, so it wasn't a bad day. Star Lotus picked a green one, and the plant needed to recover; he himself was also feeling a bit drained, so he had to make up for it. He managed to do both without neglecting either.

There was movement outside a few times during the night, but it stopped as soon as the wind blew. He didn't go out.

After daybreak, he went into the Astrology Room.

The stone platform was cold. I sat cross-legged, closed my eyes, and focused my mental energy.

I haven't moved all day.

The energy from all sides converged towards the center, pressing into his body layer by layer. He adjusted it slowly, without rushing or being greedy. This kind of work cannot be rushed; if you rush it, it will dissipate.

The dark red blob at my feet remained pressed against the ground. Yesterday, when I placed a Lotus Seed on it, it ate its fill and became well-behaved, no longer causing trouble.

In the latter half, it started moving on its own.

The dark red surface gradually rose, thinned, softened, and climbed up the edge of the stone platform, covering the ankles, calves, and back, finally clinging to the shoulders and neck. The whole process was silent, only a slight coolness, followed by sinking.

Blood Armor.

It was a layer thicker than before, with tighter edges and a more secure fit. It covered my body, protecting me while simultaneously absorbing energy—not much, but very evenly.

Lu Heng ignored it. He just sat there, from the light to the darkness.

The light in the room receded inch by inch, the shadow of the stone platform lengthened, and finally the entire room sank into gray. The Blood Armor rose and fell slowly on his body, the rhythm gradually matching his breathing.

Another day has passed.

The next morning, he pushed open the door and went out.

The morning mist hadn't completely dissipated, and the wasteland stretched out in a white expanse. He stood at the doorway, silent.

Several of them had already spotted him.

The nearest deer raised its head, its neck tensed, but it didn't run away. Then the second, the third, and so on, stood up one after another and looked in his direction. Wild boars poked their heads out of the ground, wolves rose from the grass, the older ones moving first, the younger ones squeezing out after them.

Not one of them cried out.

The expectation was straightforward—not to curry favor, but simply to await a result. They didn't understand what helping meant, but they knew that the person who said "I'll do it" yesterday hadn't come out all night. Now that they were out, something should have been left behind.

The Wolf King walked at the front. The new wound had scabbed over, and its left hind leg dragged slightly as it walked, but it stood very steadily. It stopped about seven or eight steps away from Lu Heng, looked up at him, and its tail drooped.

Lu Heng looked at them, examining each one individually. The old ones were there, and the young ones were there too; only a few were missing. The few that had been huddled in the outermost circle yesterday and were injured were still able to stand today.

He took two steps forward, stood at the boundary between the wasteland and the hard soil, squatted down, and placed his right hand on the ground.

The mental energy sank downwards and connected with the upwards.

--put.

The dark red mass at my feet trembled suddenly.

It wasn't the fluctuations of yesterday; it was an explosion. The entire ground felt as if something had pushed it from below, and the dark red color instantly spread outwards, clinging to the soil, the grass roots, and the cracks in the stones, spreading outwards in concentric circles.

Mycelium have emerged.

So fine as to be invisible, yet perceptible— Lu Heng's spiritual energy was filled with that dense, all-encompassing tactile sensation. One strand pressed against another, layer upon layer, weaving incredibly fast and fiercely dense.

The first to die were those at the feet.

The insects in the soil didn't even move; their bodies shriveled, their shells still intact, but the insides were empty. Next were the ones on the back of the grass blades; those entangled in the silk froze instantly, their color fading rapidly until they became a dried-out skin.

The scope is beginning to expand.

One lap, two laps, three laps.

There was one that tried to escape. A black worm, about the length of a thumb, crawled out of the soil and desperately tried to dart towards the area without silk threads. It had barely darted half a foot when it crashed headfirst into that patch of dark red and stopped on the spot. Its body deflated inch by inch until only its shell remained.

When the Mycelium spread to the pile of decaying leaves at the entrance of the forest, the situation changed.

Something awakened beneath the decaying leaves.

First came a series of dense rustling sounds, like someone had grabbed a handful of dry sand and scattered it on the ground. Then the soil swelled up, and a dozen grayish-white insects simultaneously emerged from the surface, their carapaces open, spraying a little murky liquid in the direction from which the Mycelium was spreading.

The liquid fell onto the Mycelium, producing a very faint wisp of white vapor.

The small patch of hair that was sprayed paused for a moment, its color lightened slightly, as if it had been scalded.

But that's all.

More silk threads pressed up, layer upon layer, burying the whitish area completely. The grayish-white insects continued to spray, one after another. By the third round, their bodies had begun to stiffen, and their carapaces could no longer close.

On the other side, several creatures with hard shells tried to burrow in, attempting to pass underneath. The shells were very hard, and they did break two or three threads—a little dark red seeped from the broken ends, which were then entangled and tightly bound by the surrounding threads, dragging them into the soil.

There was no second blow.

The pile of decaying leaves quickly quieted down. The bulging soil collapsed back down, and the open carapaces couldn't close, revealing the dried flesh inside. The murky liquid seeped into the soil, leaving not even a trace.

Unfortunately, it was completely useless.

The Mycelium continue to push forward.

It grew longer and longer, spreading denser and denser, stretching from the edge of the wasteland all the way to the entrance of the forest, climbing up along the tree roots for a while, then turning back, weaving the entire outer ring of the ground into an invisible net.

Lu Heng squatted there, his hand never lifting.

He could sense the direction of each thread, and he could also sense what was being absorbed—small, fragmented, with little nourishment, but numerous. Enough to allow the net to take root inch by inch, into the soil, into the cracks in the rocks, into the very bones of this land.

Looking at how this area is unfolded,

Silver Tier peak—it had reached that position before. Now its realm is only Bronze, and its strength is reduced to a mere shell, but its attack method remains unchanged: first lay out a net, then tighten it, then devour it bite by bite; it doesn't chase, doesn't snatch, and doesn't waste a single ounce of energy, turning the entire land into its own mouth.

It's slow now because it doesn't have the strength to go fast.

The methods are old, the quantity is new, but there's a huge difference in between.

But it knows the way.

When the sun rose, the fog dissipated.

There was nothing unusual about the wasteland. The soil was still the same soil, the grass was still the same grass, and the texture of the grass underfoot hadn't changed.

The Blood Armor still covered Lu Heng's body, a thin layer clinging tightly to his skin, tightening slightly with his movements.

The herd of beasts stood still, neither dispersing nor approaching.