The bluish-green light reflected off the stone ceiling of the cave, making it look as though it was studded with colorful gemstones.
However, Liang Qu didn’t notice the deadly danger hidden within those shimmering lights.
It was too well concealed, too swift.
The attacker blended seamlessly with the surroundings, striking with the speed of lightning.
Liang Qu could only catch a glimpse of a blurry shadow out of the corner of his eye.
Suddenly, he felt a weight on his shoulder, and another shadow shot out, colliding with the incoming attacker and sending it flying.
When Liang Qu regained his senses, he realized that the small creature that had been perched on his shoulder was gone, leaving only six tiny footprints behind.
He hadn’t reacted in time, but the creature had.
It had leapt into action, intercepting the attacker.
The attacker, now on the ground, struggled to escape, its armored body clattering against the stone floor like metal.
The small creature, quick and agile, pounced on the shadowy figure, using its powerful claws to pin it down.
The attacker writhed, trying to bite back, but the creature’s strength was overwhelming.
With a firm grip, it forced the attacker to stretch out, rendering it helpless.
Once the attacker was subdued, the small creature scuttled over to Liang Qu, holding its claws high as if presenting a treasure to a deity.
Liang Qu, still shaken, wiped the cold sweat from his brow.
The sudden ambush had truly caught him off guard.
The dangers lurking underwater were unpredictable.
Liang Qu motioned for the creature to bring the attacker closer to the glowing vines.
As he crouched down, he saw that the shadowy figure was a massive centipede.
Its translucent, gem-like exoskeleton shimmered with a blue hue, blending with the rippling water.
The creature exuded an aura of danger.
A water centipede!
Liang Qu’s heart raced.
He recognized this creature.
It was a highly venomous centipede that lived in water.
Even a small one, just three inches long, could kill an ordinary person with a single bite.
This one was six inches long, larger than the span of his hand from thumb to forefinger.
Even as a martial artist, Liang Qu knew that a bite from this creature would be no small matter.
“Good job, little one!” Liang Qu reached out and patted the creature’s back, careful to avoid the centipede.
Encouraged, the small creature raised the centipede even higher.
“Can I command this water centipede?” Liang Qu wondered aloud.
With his recent increase in strength and a newfound mental capacity to command aquatic beasts, Liang Qu considered the possibilities.
For fishing, his current companions—the immovable one and the fat catfish—were more than enough.
What he needed now was to enhance his combat capabilities.
However, Liang Qu’s mental strength was limited.
He could only command one more creature, and it couldn’t be something as large as the three-and-a-half-meter-long immovable one he currently had.
It had to be something smaller, like the two-meter-long Grand Marsh Crocodile he had once controlled.
Commanding a spirit beast was out of the question—it would overwhelm his mind and leave him a babbling fool.
Another large fish would be redundant.
A venomous water insect, on the other hand, was the perfect choice.
Venom.
It was the most effective way for the weak to overcome the strong.
This six-inch-long water centipede could deliver a deadly bite to even a seasoned martial artist, provided it could breach their defenses.
Its small size made it easy to conceal and carry around, unlike the more conspicuous creatures Liang Qu currently commanded.
Liang Qu searched the area and found a sharp stone shard.
He tried to cut his finger, but the stone merely chipped, leaving only a shallow scratch.
“Ugh, after tempering my skin, even ordinary stones are useless,” Liang Qu muttered to himself.
He’d have to ask Senior Brother Lu to get him a proper dagger.
With some effort, Liang Qu managed to squeeze a few drops of blood from the shallow cut and smeared it on his fingers.
He then instructed the small creature to pin the centipede flat on the ground.
The centipede’s narrow back made it difficult to work with, so Liang Qu stacked three fingers together and drew a narrow water glyph on its back.
The Marsh Cauldron glowed, and the blood-red glyph momentarily outshone the cave’s shimmering lights, slowly seeping into the centipede’s body.
The centipede convulsed, curling into a tight ball, its legs folding in until it resembled a smooth, round blue bead.
It rolled down a slight incline in the cave floor.
A sharp, but bearable, pain shot through Liang Qu’s mind.
He crouched down, clutching his head, and waited for the sensation to pass.
When it subsided, he felt his mental link nearly full.
There was just a sliver of space left, enough to command a small fish, but it was practically useless.
“What’s going on? Commanding a water centipede takes up as much mental space as a crocodile?” Liang Qu wondered.
He communicated with the Marsh Cauldron.
[Heavenly Water Centipede successfully commanded.
Can evolve.]
“Heavenly Water Centipede? Not just a water centipede?” Liang Qu was puzzled.
The Marsh Cauldron usually displayed the common names of creatures, like the Grand Marsh Crocodile.
Why was this one different?
As if responding to his confusion, the Marsh Cauldron glowed again.
[Heavenly Water Centipede: A water centipede nourished by Water Ganoderma and the flesh and blood of martial artists.
Can consume 1,000 points of Water Essence to evolve into a Great-Winged Heavenly Water Centipede.]
“What?! 1,000 points of Water Essence!” Liang Qu exclaimed.
That was even more than what was needed for the small creature’s evolution.
Since the small creature was already a spirit beast, did that mean the Heavenly Water Centipede was also a spirit beast, perhaps even stronger? Liang Qu was thrilled.
He had stumbled upon another small spirit beast by accident.
No wonder it required so much mental strength despite its small size.
But the mention of “martial artist flesh and blood” in the description confused him.
He knew about Water Ganoderma—he had seen the remains of smaller ones nearby, likely eaten by the centipede.
But the martial artist part was unclear.
Liang Qu pinched the blue bead between his fingers, and it instantly unfolded, transforming back into the six-inch-long centipede.
Its blue exoskeleton gleamed like metal, and its many legs moved with precision.
The centipede raised its front half, its mandibles looking fierce and imposing.
Upon closer inspection, the areas where the small creature had pinned it showed no damage—its shell was as hard as iron.
“You’re quite impressive. I’ll call you Ah Wei,” Liang Qu said.
The centipede’s legs quivered as it turned in a circle on Liang Qu’s palm.
“Where’s the human-shaped thing you ate?” Liang Qu asked through their mental link.
Ah Wei, now intelligent enough to understand, rotated its upper body and pointed toward a narrow crack in the cave wall.
The crack was so small that Liang Qu had to turn sideways to squeeze through.
Inside, the walls were covered in moss.
Learning from past experiences, Liang Qu sent the small creature and Ah Wei in first to scout the area.
Once they confirmed it was safe, he attempted to follow.
He sucked in his stomach and, using the slippery moss to his advantage, slid through the crack with ease.
The immovable one, however, stood outside the crack, unable to fit no matter how it tried.
It was too wide, and turning sideways didn’t help.
The fat catfish floated on the water’s surface, unable to even climb onto the platform, staring longingly at the stone.
Inside the crack, the passage was narrow at first but soon opened up into a small space of about two to three square meters.
Glowing vines illuminated the area, and beneath them sat a moss-covered skeleton.
The skeleton was seated in a meditative pose, its head hanging low.
Its teeth were broken, and half of its jawbone was missing, giving it a sinister, grinning appearance.
(End of Chapter)