Slow Chokehold

Looking at the casually slain demonic creatures, Yi Feng knew his strength had reached a terrifying level.

By his estimation, he was now among the top-tier Saints.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to rejoice.

With cultivation like this, how could he possibly die? Seriously, how?

But if he didn’t die, the system’s warning still echoed vividly in his mind.

In just over ninety years, a world-ending calamity would descend.

If he failed to achieve true immortality by then, he would face genuine mortal peril.

Thus, his overwhelming power now left him in an awkward predicament—stuck in the middle, unable to advance or retreat. Death seemed impossible, yet not dying wasn’t an option either.

After much deliberation, he concluded that preparing for both outcomes was the wisest course.

So, he would work on improving himself while simultaneously seeking death.

Contradictory as it sounded, he refused to face the calamity ninety years later with stagnant strength, still unable to die.

This two-pronged approach at least ensured that even if he failed to die in the next ninety years, his power would grow, better equipping him for the impending disaster.

And if he happened to die in the process? Even better.

From now on, whether it was demons or humans, he’d fight them all.

Win? Gain experience.

Lose? Die happily.

Withdrawing his blood-drenched sword under the terrified gazes of the demonic creatures, Yi Feng’s eyes flashed with realization, and a relieved smile spread across his face.

“Heh… I really am a genius!”

To the demons, however, that smile was the epitome of cruelty and horror.

A human youth with an expressionless face had single-handedly chased tens of thousands of demons to this point, leaving rivers of blood and mountains of corpses in his wake, never pausing, never showing a flicker of emotion.

Only after slaughtering every demon in sight did he finally smile—and even praised himself with satisfaction.

What kind of monstrous bloodlust was this?!

He was the real demon here.

A demon!

As the human continued advancing, one twisted demon trembled uncontrollably, its teeth chattering in fear as it involuntarily cried out in human speech:

“Waaah! Stay away from me!”

The wail snapped Yi Feng out of his thoughts.

Before he could even identify the creature, a massive figure in the distance spun its legs like a fan and vanished into the black mist.

The remaining demons scattered even faster, fleeing like startled birds and beasts.

“Thud! Thud! Thud!”

The ground shook with their retreat, leaving not a single shadow behind.

Yi Feng stood there, dumbfounded.

Glancing around, he realized he’d wandered far from his original location while lost in thought. The unfamiliar landscape was littered with corpses, and the surroundings were completely foreign.

He seemed to have strayed far beyond the outskirts of the black mist where the flying ship had been.

Damn it. Now he’d probably lose the other three.

Yi Feng stood in the wind, clutching his greatsword, utterly bewildered.

He’d only spaced out for what felt like a bathroom break, yet somehow managed to slaughter his way into getting lost.

Could you believe it…?

As their guide, he was supposed to lead the group, but before they’d even gotten far, he’d misplaced himself.

How embarrassing would this sound if word got out?

Yi Feng awkwardly scanned the area—not a single bird in sight.

The sky was nothing but endless black mist, with no trace of the flying ship.

Now he was really screwed.

How was he supposed to find those three?

No matter how frantically he searched, there was no sign of them.

Yi Feng grew increasingly anxious and exasperated, spinning in circles until he couldn’t tell north from south.

And then, as if things couldn’t get worse, his stomach betrayed him with a sudden, urgent cramp.

Just as he was about to relieve himself on the spot, he realized—he had no paper!

Truly, misfortune never comes alone.

Nature’s call waits for no one. Yi Feng had no choice but to stand rigidly, enduring the agony, his search for the others completely forgotten.

With disaster imminent, he hastily summoned Manman!

“Quick, quick, quick! Take me to the nearest place with paper and a toilet!”

The giant snail rolled its lifeless eyes. As soon as Yi Feng climbed onto its back, it transformed into a streak of light and vanished into the mist.

“Whoosh!”

In the blink of an eye, the streak left a trail across the sky.

When Yi Feng’s vision cleared, he found himself in a village—one with familiar houses and scenery!

Wait…

Wasn’t this Old Man Fu’s village?!

Yi Feng’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could voice his confusion, his urgent situation demanded immediate action. He dashed into a house, grabbed some paper, and rushed to the pit.

Only after settling in did he finally exhale in relief.

Though the crisis was resolved, his emotions were anything but calm.

Peering over the earthen wall, he saw Manman still lazily rolling its lifeless eyes, its antennae-like stalks slowly swiveling as it inched forward at a snail’s pace—literally.

But Yi Feng’s gaze now held a sharp, knowing glint.

He wasn’t a fool.

He’d always known Manman was fast—capable of traversing millions of miles in no time—but he’d never realized just how absurd its speed truly was.

Now, he’d witnessed it firsthand.

The black mist they’d just left? It had taken days to reach by flying ship with those three experts.

And those three were clearly far stronger than Fu Nantian, with a ship leagues more advanced. The distance was unimaginable.

Yet Manman had returned in an instant.

This damn snail had been pretending all along!

You call this a snail?! And its name is Manman (Slowly)?!

Hah.

Yi Feng glared coldly.

After finishing his business, he quietly approached, pants now secured.

Manman continued its sluggish crawl, maintaining its usual act.

But Yi Feng wasn’t fooled. He grabbed both antennae, locked the snail in a chokehold, and growled through gritted teeth:

“Talk!”

“What the hell are you? How are you this fast?”

“And why did you never tell me?”

Yet the snail remained as lethargic as ever, its lifeless eyes drooping, utterly unbothered by the interrogation. It didn’t even lift its eyelids, completely unfazed by Yi Feng’s aggression.

No matter how fiercely Yi Feng pressed, or how many times he yanked the antennae, the snail refused to react.

Truly, a dead snail fears no boiling water.

Defeated, Yi Feng released his grip.

Squatting beside it, he rested his chin on his hand and muttered bitterly:

“You damn thing. You’ve been lying to me all along.”

Manman responded with silence, blowing a few bubbles.

Yi Feng shot a glare at those lifeless eyes before turning away in frustration.

Who’d have thought this seemingly simple snail was actually a master of deception, fooling him for so long?

The more Yi Feng dwelled on it, the more unsettled he grew—and the more he began questioning everything else.

“If I’ve underestimated this snail, and even myself… then maybe the other things the system gave me are also far more than they seem…”

The moment this thought crossed his mind, Yi Feng stiffened.

If Manman was this ridiculously powerful, with speed defying logic…

Then what about Lou Benwei?

The idea struck him like lightning, and his eyes widened in shock.

But after a brief pause, the spark in his gaze dimmed. He shook his head lightly, his expression calming.

He’d suspected as much before and had even tested it repeatedly.

But this guy really didn’t seem like the world’s number one enforcer. In fact, he was incredibly fragile—just a few punches and he’d fall apart, his head might even roll away.

So forget about fighting others; even taking a beating was a struggle for him.

How could that pile of loose bones possibly be the world’s top enforcer?

With some of his doubts dispelled, Yi Feng’s mood settled. Still, watching Manman’s exaggerated performance, he couldn’t shake off a lingering resentment and gradually felt the urge to test things further.

"Hmm, next time I see that bastard, I’ll have to try again."

What if?

What if Lou Benwei was also just a great actor? Wouldn’t that mean another embarrassing misunderstanding?

As the master, he couldn’t tolerate such a thing happening again.

With his worries easing, the pressing "shit crisis" was also resolved.

Yi Feng let out a small sigh of relief. Though he was a bit annoyed at being tricked by Manman, the guy was undeniably fast—which wasn’t a bad thing!

From now on, going anywhere would be as easy as saying the word.

Thinking this, Yi Feng gradually calmed down, feeling a faint sense of turning misfortune into fortune. He wasn’t in a hurry to return to the black mist anymore.

After all, it’d only take a blink of an eye anyway.

His future as a guide would now come with the perk of slacking off—riding Manman back for a midnight snack or sneaking in some leisure time. How perfect would that be?

Especially after days of traveling and surviving on stockpiled rations, his mouth had practically lost all taste from the blandness.

The more he thought about it, the more pleased he became. Like a wage worker stumbling upon newfound hope, Yi Feng returned to Old Man Fu’s courtyard kitchen and personally whipped up a couple of dishes.

After a hearty meal and a few drinks, he mounted Manman and leisurely headed back.

"Whoosh!"

A streak of light flashed out of the village, too quick for ordinary eyes to catch.

Not far away, Wei Donghai and his brother, due to their weaker cultivation, could no longer endure the terrifying Dao resonance in the corridor and had retreated first.

As soon as they stepped out of the Ancient Corridor, they hurried toward Yi Feng’s residence.

They had left in such a rush earlier that they hadn’t had time to present their offerings.

So now, upon returning, they didn’t waste a second—even knowing Yi Feng wasn’t home, they wanted to deliver their tribute to his courtyard immediately.

But just as they approached, they caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette vanishing like a phantom before their eyes.

A fierce gust of wind blew past, leaving Wei Donghai utterly bewildered…