Chapter Eight: The Sea of Profound Ice (Part Two) [Unveiled]

After soaking in the wine pool for several days, Kuangchi, who had never cared for alcohol before, had somehow become a true drunkard, never without a drink in hand. Not only was this unexpected for Kuangchi himself, but even Qian Duo had not foreseen it. Anna had bickered with Kuangchi countless times over the past few days about the gourd-shaped, half-meter-tall wine jug he now held at all hours, cradled to his chest.

Leaning against the edge of the pool, Kuangchi picked up the blood-red jug of mysterious origin and age—something Qian Duo had unearthed from his family’s storeroom. After taking a hefty swig, he finally addressed Qian Duo, who stood nearby. “How are the preparations coming along?”

Qian Duo replied, “My men have found a family in town with a treasured harpoon, but they are unwilling to sell. I’m doing my best to persuade them. I think in a few more days we’ll have an answer.”

Kuangchi nodded, took another drink, and asked, “How much longer until that fine wine you bought for me from Siyuan City arrives here in Sihang City?”

“About thirty to fifty days,” Qian Duo answered.

Kuangchi frowned, puzzled. “Didn’t you say Siyuan City wasn’t far from here? Why so long?”

Qian Duo laughed. “I know you prefer strong spirits, so I asked the distillery to make a special batch just for you. It takes more time, but this way you can enjoy a few more days soaking here.”

Hearing this, Kuangchi found it reasonable enough. He had not only come to love the drink these days, but also the wine bath. Every time after soaking, he could feel an indescribable comfort radiate through his muscles. Especially over these days, Kuangchi found his physique had shrunk a size compared to before the ant blood bath, and he had grown nearly one and a half centimeters taller—a significant breakthrough for someone who measured his height, waist, and weight at least once a day.

The only thing that dissatisfied him was that his weight had increased by ten kilograms under standard gravity, now a staggering two hundred and two kilograms.

Stretching his relaxed body in the fiery red wine, Kuangchi grinned with pleasure. “Has the auction date for the ant crystal been set?” he asked.

Qian Duo shook his head, glancing toward the ant crystal set into the pool’s edge, a look of pained regret in his eyes. “Some families from other cities wish to participate in the auction. We must wait until their schedules are confirmed before we can set the date.”

Kuangchi nodded and joked, “Then you’d better keep a close eye on that ant crystal. Don’t let anyone steal it.”

Qian Duo’s expression turned serious. “I am being extremely vigilant,” he assured.

Kuangchi smiled, said nothing further, and took another swig from his gourd.

Not long after Qian Duo left, Anna burst in, her presence fiery and unrestrained as she sat beside the pool without the least hesitation. She glared at Kuangchi and demanded, “Kuangchi, is it true you’re heading to the Weakwater Pool on the surface to hunt Frostscale Fish?”

Kuangchi froze. Lately, to avoid Anna’s growing authority as a stern housekeeper, neither he nor Qian Duo had discussed the matter in front of her. He had also repeatedly instructed Old Tuo not to let Anna catch wind of it. Yet somehow, she had found out.

Putting on a smile, Kuangchi said, “What’s the matter? I just want to have a look at the Weakwater Pool.”

Anna snorted in anger. “Don’t try to fool me. I just asked my grandfather. He said hunting Frostscale Fish in the Weakwater Pool is extremely dangerous—even he wouldn’t dare attempt it. The word in the city is that you’re promising this hunt to recruit the city’s unaffiliated experts into your clan.”

Only now did Kuangchi realize Anna had gotten hold of reliable information. He chuckled awkwardly. “It’s true, but I mainly just want to see it for myself.”

Anna didn’t press the issue, but her face was full of worry. “Kuangchi, my grandfather says it’s very dangerous to hunt Frostscale Fish at the Weakwater Pool. Can’t you reconsider? He says you’re too eager to expand your clan in Sihang City and on this Forgotten Star, without fully understanding the situation. That’s dangerous. He also says he can’t urge you too much, but he hopes you’ll be patient—a territory will be allotted to your clan soon enough.”

Kuangchi smiled, surprised. “Did your grandfather really say that?”

Anna nodded. “He also said you might be misunderstanding him lately. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help you get territory, but there simply isn’t any spare land for new families at the moment. He’s been lobbying other clans to carve out an area for you.”

Hearing this, Kuangchi laughed. He had indeed harbored resentment against Old Tuo, feeling the old man sided with the other clans to suppress him as an outsider.

He raised his gourd and took another long drink, then said cheerfully, “No matter what, I have to go to the Weakwater Pool. If I don’t, what will others think? As for my safety, don’t worry, Anna—I’m confident nothing will happen to me.”

A few days later, ignoring Anna’s objections, Kuangchi hefted the newly purchased two-meter-long harpoon—crafted entirely from an unknown black metal and weighing three hundred kilograms under standard gravity—and retraced the mountain tunnel he and Old Tuo had once traveled, returning to the surface.

The howling wind and the fresh air—free of the acrid tang of sulfur—filled Kuangchi’s senses. He drew a deep breath and took a hearty swig from his gourd.

After so long underground, he realized just how invigorating surface air and sunlight could be.

Xiaohua’s flower head poked out from Kuangchi’s neck. After soaking in the wine pool for days with Kuangchi, Xiaohua’s body now bore a faint reddish hue, as if wrapped in a layer of shimmering red light.

The ant blood baths had not been in vain. Having absorbed much of the strange energy, Xiaohua’s toughness had increased by nearly twenty percent, and it even seemed a bit smarter.

Scanning the surroundings, Xiaohua spoke up: “Master, my friend Xiaohei wants to try catching a beast to see if absorbing the beast’s energy can toughen its body, just as ant blood did for me.”

Kuangchi nodded and, reaching behind his ear, detached the now motionless Golden Shark. He examined and squeezed it, finding its hide even tougher than it had been days before.

The ant blood truly was the best way to enhance the body and muscles—far more effective than any gene drugs manufactured by biologists. What’s more, it worked on all life, not just specific species, and didn’t carry the same risks of genetic modification.

So far, the only risk Kuangchi sensed was the fear that he might mutate—perhaps sprout white fur all over, like the mutants on Forgotten Star, or worse, that his descendants might suffer the same fate.

He turned to Xiaohua. “Are you sure Xiaohei won’t freeze on this planet? Its surface is all liquid.”

Xiaohua assured him, “Don’t worry, Master. Xiaohei’s fluids are impervious to cold and heat—even magma won’t affect them. That liquid is part of Xiaohei’s body. As long as Xiaohei lives, its fluids contain its energy, and nothing external can change them.”

The corrosive energy of Xiaohei’s surface liquids was truly terrifying, and its appetite even more so. It seemed insatiable. When the first nearly ten-meter-high beast was ensnared by Xiaohei’s tendrils, its limbs dissolving as they vanished into Xiaohei’s now eight-meter-wide maw, Xiaohei became addicted and refused to let any prey escape.

One by one, every creature encountered on the way to the Weakwater Pool was devoured by Xiaohei’s bottomless mouth.

On this planet, only the planetary-class apex monsters—those capable of flight and energy attacks—were left alone by the trio of Kuangchi, Xiaohua, and Xiaohei. All others fell victim to their onslaught.

This success was only possible because Forgotten Star was so vast and its creatures so solitary; the strongest beasts claimed territories stretching tens or hundreds of kilometers. In such a wide expanse, even the greatest disturbances went unnoticed by other monsters. Besides, the intelligence of these native beasts was low, and they kept to themselves, caring little for human affairs. As long as one didn’t attack them, they showed no interest in human flesh.

Taking his atomic watch from his pocket, Kuangchi checked the time. It was the thirty-first day since he’d left Sihang City, and at last, he had discovered, among the cloud-wreathed peaks that pierced the sky, a milky-white pool—constantly swirling as if in a boiling frenzy.

Gazing down at the bottomless Weakwater Pool, Kuangchi began to wonder if the natives simply could not distinguish between pools, lakes, and seas, or understand their differences—hence calling such a boundless ocean a “pool.”

Finally, he had found the Weakwater Pool. He breathed a long sigh of relief.

Before leaving Sihang City, Kuangchi had asked Old Tuo how to find the Weakwater Pool and where it was located. Old Tuo had simply said, “Just go where it feels coldest—you’ll find it easily.”

What Old Tuo had forgotten was that Kuangchi was not a native. Instead of braving the cold with his body as they did, he used his true energy and the energy shields from merging with his divine beast companion to keep the chill at bay. Thus, on the surface, Kuangchi could not feel any change in external temperature at all.