The forest seemed to thrum with anticipation as Tao and Jian moved closer to the marked location. The air grew thicker, charged with a faint, unnatural energy that set Tao’s nerves on edge. The map had been guiding them toward what seemed like a clearing, but the dense canopy made it impossible to see ahead. As they rounded a massive tree, the scene before them froze them in their tracks.

Two huge spiders lay sprawled across the ground, their big bodies pierced through with deep, precise sword wounds. Their sleek black carapaces shimmered faintly in the dim light, their legs curled inward in death. Tao felt a shiver run down his spine as he took in the size of them, each one easily twice the height of a man.

“Illusion Spinning Spiders,” Jian whispered, his voice tinged with awe.

Tao’s brow furrowed. “High order Spirit Beasts.”

“They can trap prey in illusions,” Jian added, stepping closer cautiously. “But they’re already dead. Someone else killed them.”

Tao nodded, his gaze shifting to the wounds. The strikes were clean and deliberate, the work of a skilled swordsman. “This has to be the Ironwood Tower Sect. Only a core disciple at the peak of Qi Condensation could handle something like this.”

Jian crouched beside one of the spiders, his hand brushing against its segmented abdomen. “If the cores are intact, this is a fortune.”

The thought sent a thrill through Tao. High order Spirit Beast cores were rare treasures, packed with concentrated Qi that could aid cultivation or be sold for an exorbitant price. Tao quickly joined Jian, their movements swift as they began harvesting the beasts.

The first core came free with a soft, glowing pulse, its green light swirling faintly in Tao’s palm. He passed it to Jian, who carefully wrapped it in a piece of cloth before stowing it in his satchel. The second core was slightly larger, its light a deeper shade of green, and Jian handed it to Tao with a grin.

“Save them for later,” Jian said, glancing around. “We don’t want to attract attention by using them now.”

Tao slipped the core into the storage ring, feeling the faint hum of energy as it joined the other items they had collected. They worked quickly, stripping the spiders of their venom sacs and a few sections of their carapaces, which could be used for crafting armour or weapons.

“This confirms it,” Jian said as they finished. “The Ironwood Tower Sect is here, and whatever they’re after must be important.”

They pressed on, the tension between them mounting as the forest grew eerily silent. It wasn’t long before they stumbled upon the next grim discovery.

Two more figures hung suspended in thick, silken webs strung between the trees. Their bodies were limp, their robes bearing the same black and red trim. Tao’s stomach twisted as he approached cautiously, the faint smell of blood mingling with the acrid scent of spider venom.

“They didn’t make it,” Jian said grimly, his eyes scanning the area.

Tao nodded, his gaze lingering on the webs. The disciples had been ensnared completely, their possessions still visible through the translucent strands. He hesitated, then spoke. “We should check them. If they were core disciples, they might have something useful.”

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Jian frowned but didn’t argue. Together, they worked to free the bodies from the webs, their hands careful not to disturb the sticky strands more than necessary.

The first disciple carried a standard sword, its craftsmanship decent but unremarkable compared to the blade they had found earlier. The second held a spear with faint etchings along the shaft, its head gleaming with a dull sheen of Qi infused metal.

“They’re not as important as the first one we found,” Jian said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Their equipment’s lower quality.”

Tao picked up the sword, testing its weight. It was slightly better than his own, and he could feel a faint resonance of Qi within the blade. Jian handed him the spear as well, gesturing toward the storage ring.

“Keep everything in the ring for now,” Jian said. “We’ll split it all fairly once we’re out of here.”

Tao nodded, slipping the items into the ring alongside the spider cores and venom sacs. The faint hum of the storage ring’s energy was a constant reminder of their growing spoils, but it also weighed heavily on Tao’s mind. The Wilds had a way of turning fortune into misfortune in the blink of an eye.

As they continued, the forest began to change. The air grew heavier, the trees thinning slightly to reveal glimpses of crumbling stone structures ahead. Tao’s heart quickened as they approached, the outline of ancient ruins becoming clearer with each step.

The ruins were vast, their broken columns and faded carvings half swallowed by the encroaching forest. In the centre stood a lone tree, its bark smooth and silver, its branches heavy with luminous fruits that glowed faintly in the dim light.

Tao and Jian stopped; their eyes fixed on the tree. The fruits were mesmerizing, their light pulsing softly as though alive.

“They’re extraordinary,” Jian murmured, stepping closer. “The Qi they’re radiating… it’s incredible.”

Tao nodded, his mind racing. If the fruits contained even a fraction of the energy they seemed to, they could be invaluable for their cultivation. But the ruins felt charged with something ancient and watchful, and he hesitated.

Jian’s voice broke his thoughts. “Look at this.”

Tao followed his gaze to a series of carvings on one of the crumbling walls. The images depicted figures harvesting the fruits with careful, deliberate movements, their hands forming precise seals. Beneath the carvings, a faint inscription explained the process in a language Tao could just barely decipher.

“It’s a technique,” Tao said, tracing the symbols with his fingers. “To harvest the fruits without damaging them.”

They practiced the motions carefully, mimicking the seals shown in the carvings. It was harder than they expected. Their hands trembled with each attempt, and the fruits, as if sensing their inexperience, seemed to resist their touch. Every time they thought they had the technique right, the fruit would slip from their grasp, or its light would flare too brightly, warning them away.

Frustration mounted, but they didn’t give up. They adjusted their movements, slowing their breathing, and focused on the rhythm of the seals. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of failed attempts, Tao’s hand closed around a fruit. Its light flared briefly before dimming, its energy settling into his palm. He held it with trembling fingers, his heart racing.

He passed it to Jian, who looked at it in awe before returning it to Tao, signalling for him to store it in the storage ring.

They continued their efforts, but the fruits seemed to grow even more elusive, as if the tree itself was testing them. In the end, after countless failed attempts, they managed to secure only one more fruit, its radiant glow barely a flicker in the growing darkness.

The energy radiating from the fruits was intoxicating, but Tao couldn’t shake the feeling that this success had come at a steep cost. This mission might yield more than they had ever imagined, but the price of each fruit felt far heavier than anticipated.

Just as they were beginning to relax, a shadow fell over them. Tao froze, his blood running cold as an enormous shape descended from above.