Steadily Upgrading Everything!
Chapter 39: Tell your god I said hello.

Chapter 39: Tell your god I said hello.

The blonde girl smiled as John steadied himself.

Her blade shimmered in the dappled light breaking through the forest canopy, its edge seeming to hum with bloodlust.

She lifted the sword and held it to her chest, tilting her head with eerie calm.

"Don’t be afraid. When your soul leaves your body, God will embrace you."

Her voice was soft and melodic, like a mother whispering a lullaby.

"He sees all, even here... amidst filth like you. The Holy Flame of the Earth has guided my blade to you. You should feel honored."

John’s brow twitched.

"...You done preaching?"

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she raised her sword again and took a poised stance, her energy surging like a coiled viper.

Her eyes gleamed with divine conviction.

"You’re the first sinner marked for purification. Let this forest witness your judgment."

She vanished from sight, her movement instant, like a flicker of grey smoke.

John’s eyes sharpened.

"Slow Toad Breathing Skill, Activated."

His body twisted to the side just as her blade swept through the air, missing his neck by less than an inch.

"Too slow," he muttered under his breath.

He ducked low, rolled over a root, and dashed away just in time to avoid a second strike that split a tree trunk behind him clean in half.

The girl landed lightly on a rock, her expression shocked.

"That speed...!" she hissed. "God truly has blessed me with a worthy offering!"

She lunged forward again, her blade tracing arcs of silver light.

John met her assault with graceful footwork, his Spatial Awareness tracking each micro-motion.

Step left. Duck. Backroll. Twist. Flip over that stump.

Each of her strikes carved deep scars into the ground, but never touched his robes.

"You dance well for a heathen," she said with a grin.

"Thanks. I’ve had a few good teachers," John replied, casually sidestepping another slash.

But he wasn’t just dodging.

Between every feint and glide, he was drawing her deeper into his trap.

His breathing stayed steady, even as blood continued to trickle from his earlier wound.

His focus remained razor-sharp.

He struck once with his Twelve Circle Slashes, a horizontal cut that forced her back.

Then again, a vertical arc that made her jump.

And again, feinting left, then striking right.

But she wasn’t an amateur.

Her blade was fast, her footwork honed, and her defense maddeningly fluid.

Still... her confidence was growing.

And that would be her downfall.

John suddenly stopped moving, just for a heartbeat.

The girl didn’t hesitate.

She darted forward like lightning.

Her sword thrust for his heart.

That was the moment John had been waiting for.

His forehead pulsed.

A sharp glow flared to life.

"Soul Piercing Gaze."

A razor-thin beam of spirit energy erupted from his glabella, faster than the human eye could follow.

The girl barely had time to widen her eyes.

The beam struck her directly in the chest, burning through her robe, her ribs, her Qi barrier, and straight into her heart.

The sword in her hand dropped with a soft clink.

She gasped, stumbled backward, and clutched her chest.

Smoke rose from the fresh hole bored into her torso, the faint blue hue of her spirit core flickering and cracking inside.

Her eyes trembled as blood spilled from the corner of her mouth.

"Wh...What... is this...?"

John walked slowly toward her, his hand still faintly glowing.

"You talk too much," he said simply. "Tell your god I said hello."

Then, with a sigh, he watched her collapse to the forest floor, the light in her eyes fading.

As the blonde girl’s body went limp, John stood still for a moment, letting the adrenaline wash off him like a wave breaking against stone.

His breath came slowly, rhythmically, the residue of combat still crackling faintly through his limbs.

He crouched beside her and calmly removed the storage bag from her waist.

"Let’s see what you were carrying, priestess," he murmured, slipping it into his own robes.

He’d inspect it later, when there were fewer eyes, both human and beast.

Standing back up, he winced slightly.

The blade wound in his shoulder still burned.

Blood had dried in streaks across his back and arm, and every breath sent a twinge of pain through his ribs.

From his own storage pouch, John retrieved a small jade bottle.

He popped the cork and pulled out a round, golden-red Healing Pill, warm and pulsing slightly with medicinal Qi.

He swallowed it whole.

The effects began almost instantly, waves of numbing coolness spread from his shoulder down through his chest and spine.

The pain dulled, his muscles relaxed, and the torn flesh began knitting itself back together.

But he knew better than to keep moving with a half-healed wound.

So, with caution in his steps, John moved through the dense jungle until he found a shallow rock alcove nestled between two craggy slopes.

It was sheltered and shaded, partially hidden by dangling vines and thorny underbrush.

Perfect for a few hours of rest.

He sat cross-legged inside, leaned against the wall, and activated his Meditation Skill, letting the pill work in tandem with his internal Qi flow.

Hours passed in peaceful silence, broken only by the occasional chirp of insects and distant howls of beasts.

When he finally opened his eyes again, the wound was gone.

Only a faint scar remained, and even that was fading.

He flexed his shoulder.

"Still sore... but functional."

Standing up, he looked through the foliage surrounding the alcove.

The sky above was shifting to a dusk-orange hue, but there were no signs of immediate danger.

Still, the memory of the ambush made his jaw tighten.

"This place isn’t just filled with beasts and ghosts," he muttered. "Even the other participants want me dead."

He looked toward the jungle with a renewed resolve.

"I have to be cautious. Every shadow might be a sword."

With that grim thought in mind, he set off again.

His Spatial Awareness was fully activated now, sweeping thirty meters around him like an invisible radar.

Every movement, every twitch of grass, every snapped twig registered in his mind.

He moved swiftly but silently through the jungle, no longer seeking confrontation, but also no longer naive.

He needed allies.

Specifically, he needed to find Riara.

Not just because she was strong, or from a powerful clan.

But because he knew her.

Trusted her, at least more than the rest of these lunatics.

Her presence would turn this hellish survival trial into something... manageable.

As he pushed deeper into the wilds, his hand rested near his blade hilt, and his mind remained alert.

Twice he was attacked by Blood Refinement Realm spirit beasts, one was a wild boar with steel-like tusks, the other a snake with translucent scales and venomous breath.

He dealt with both swiftly.

His Twelve Circle Slashes cut clean through the boar’s thick hide.

A rapid burst of Soul Piercing Gaze vaporized the snake’s head before it could strike.

John harvested their spirit cores, still warm and pulsating with residual energy, and dropped them into his bag.

By the time the moon began to rise over the horizon, John had collected five cores, each glowing faintly through the cracks of his pouch.

But Riara was still nowhere to be found.

He crouched under a tree, scanning the surroundings.

"Where are you, Riara...?"

He exhaled slowly, the jungle rustling around him, hiding secrets in every leaf.

Night draped the jungle in layers of black and indigo, the thick canopy above blotting out even the faintest trace of moonlight.

The air grew colder and heavier, and the cries of distant spirit beasts echoed intermittently, painting a symphony of unease.

But John Coral didn’t stop.

He leapt over fallen logs and skirted thorny underbrush with practiced grace, his breath steady, his movements precise.

As a Spirit Seed Realm cultivator, sleep had become more of a luxury than a necessity.

His enhanced physique could go for days without rest, though exhaustion always lurked like a shadow at the edge of his mind.

Not that he could afford to sleep now, anyway.

He knew all too well what would happen the moment he dropped his guard.

In this cursed jungle, a moment of rest could end in a slit throat or a beast’s claw through his chest.

"Still no sign of her..." he murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper against the forest hum.

For hours, he’d searched for Riara.

But as the night deepened, reality set in, he had no idea where she was, or if she was even still alive.

The dense terrain, the isolation, and the absence of familiar energy signatures made it all but impossible to locate anyone.

Eventually, he slowed and came to a decision.

"I should give up on searching Riara," he said, pausing beneath the shadow of a twisted tree. "I don’t even know if I’m going in the right direction... My main focus should be to hunt as many beasts and ghost spirits as possible."

His voice sounded firmer this time, as though saying it aloud helped convince himself.

Taking a calming breath, John activated his spatial sense to its full twenty-meter radius, letting the rippling field of perception spread out around him like an invisible dome.

His eyes narrowed.

This time, he wasn’t moving blindly.

He was hunting.

His senses reached into the shadows, probing the trees, sniffing for the smallest signs of movement, the faintest fluctuations of Qi.

But instead of picking up a beast’s aura, or the flickering remnants of spirit energy...

He froze.

A strange pulse, cold, slow, unnatural, brushed across the edge of his perception.

A moment later, he saw him.

Standing silently among a clearing of gnarled roots and silver-leafed trees was a figure in violet robes.

John’s body came to a halt instinctively. His heart didn’t race, but his muscles coiled like a spring.

There was something... off about the man.

He wasn’t just standing still.

He was utterly motionless, as if he had been there for centuries.

No twitch, no blink, no rise and fall of breath.

The dim starlight revealed pale skin, and as the man slowly turned his head, John caught a glimpse of his eyes.

They glowed a deep, ominous purple. Not glowing with Qi or spiritual light, but... wrong.

They had no pupils, no irises, just endless violet, like an abyss masquerading as sight.

A chill ran down John’s spine.

Those eyes...

They didn’t feel human.

John instinctively tensed.

He didn’t move, didn’t reach for a weapon yet, but his entire being was now on edge. Every part of him screamed caution.

The violet-robed man tilted his head slightly to the side, curious, like a bird examining a shiny object.

A faint smile curled his lips, serene, yet completely disconnected from anything resembling normal behavior.

John held his breath.

This person... no, this thing... wasn’t right.

And yet, no killing intent radiated from him.

No fluctuation in spiritual pressure.

He felt like a void, like he simply existed without origin or destination.

Then...

He blinked.

Just once.

And in that instant, John’s spatial sense distorted.

A second passed, two, and the man hadn’t moved.

But somehow, he felt closer.

John’s grip on the hilt of his blade tightened.

"What are you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse, caught between awe and dread.

The violet-eyed figure finally spoke.

His voice was soft, gentle, too gentle.

Like a whisper wrapped in silk, echoing in a room without walls.

"You see... too much."

And then...

He smiled wider.

John’s heart clenched.

Something ancient looked back at him from behind those eyes.