Chapter Thirty-One: The Snow Demon, Gravely Wounded

The icy wasteland was a paradise for snow demons; within it, their speed was unmatched. The prompt appeared in Fang Tang’s vision as he opened a passage. He adjusted his explosive bow and pistol, then stepped inside.

The moment he entered the black mist, a bone-chilling cold enveloped him, as if he’d been dropped into the Arctic. Worse still, he wore only a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, completely unequipped for the cold. He knew he had to act quickly.

Upon entering Cave 70, a world of white greeted his eyes. Thick snow carpeted the ground, reaching above his ankles and crunching with every step. The sound of his footsteps on the snow startled the two snowmen sitting at an icy table nearby.

To be precise, they were white monkeys, their forms shrouded by heavy snow.

“These are the snow demons?” Fang Tang felt a surge of curiosity at the sight of the two white monkeys. It was his first time encountering a creature previously confined to the pages of fiction.

Curiosity aside, snow demons were deadly. Fang Tang quickly raised his pistol and took aim.

Bang!

The gunshot split the silence, flames bursting from the muzzle. The targeted snow demon let out a piercing shriek, dropped to all fours, and narrowly dodged the bullet. Yet the flames licking the bullet grazed its fur—melting it instantly into droplets that dripped to the ground.

The eyes of both snow demons turned blood-red. In the blink of an eye, they shot toward Fang Tang with uncanny speed.

There was no time to marvel at their strangeness. Fang Tang steadied his aim and squeezed the trigger once more.

Bang!

The bullet howled toward its mark. In a flash, just as Fang Tang thought he would strike the snow demon, the creature slid abruptly half a meter to the side, as if a car on the highway had suddenly been swept from the left lane into the center by a violent crosswind—an eerily unnatural motion.

Fang Tang’s expression turned grave. Two missed shots told him all he needed to know about their strength. No wonder these creatures once had levels.

The snow demons were astonishingly fast—covering more than ten meters in less than a second and halting not far from him. Both stopped abruptly, their four crimson eyes fixed on him, and four hands plunged into the snow.

“Jump forward!” flashed the prompt.

Summoning every ounce of strength, Fang Tang leapt forward with all his might.

A split second later, the ground where he’d been standing caved in. He landed at the very edge of the collapse, exhaling in relief. Glancing at the snow demons two meters away, he let a cold smile curl his lips.

Now you’ll see what it means when the bullet is faster than your legs beyond seven steps, and even faster and deadlier within seven.

Bang, bang, bang!

Three rapid shots sealed off the snow demon’s retreat to the left. The effect was immediate—one bullet struck home, searing flames exploding upon impact. The snow demon let out a wretched scream as a gaping hole tore through its chest, torrents of liquefied water cascading from its body.

“Is this a snow demon or a water demon? There’s so much water,” Fang Tang couldn’t help but mutter to himself, shifting his aim to the right.

But as he did, he saw the snow demon already clutching two snowballs.

For a moment, Fang Tang was dumbfounded. Making snowballs? Did he look like he was here for a snowball fight?

The next instant disabused him of the notion. The snowballs whistled through the air straight at him. At a distance of just over two meters, he had no time to react.

A snowball slammed into his chest with a sickening crack, and he was sent flying backward, his body skidding along the wall.

“Ugh!” Blood spurted from his mouth, staining the snow at his feet scarlet.

Pain seared through his chest, and rage surged within him. Since when did snowballs pack such a punch? Was there a rock inside?

But there was no time to catch his breath. Another snowball hurtled toward his head. Knowing he was in dire straits, Fang Tang gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain in his chest, and dropped to the snowy ground.

Thud!

The snowball missed, smashing into the wall behind him with a dull thud.

Fang Tang didn’t hesitate. The pain sharpened his senses, heightening his reflexes. Seeing two more snowballs rapidly forming in the snow demon’s hands, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

He raised his pistol, hands trembling, and unleashed his remaining bullets.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Four shots in quick succession, once again sealing off the snow demon’s escape.

One bullet found its mark, blasting away half the snow demon’s body and sending a fan of molten water spraying across the ground.

Fang Tang struggled to his feet, clutching his chest, and staggered over to the fallen snow demon. He drew his explosive bow; at this close range, he did not even need to pull it to full draw—just charge the arrow.

Whoosh!

The electric net burst forth, engulfing the snow demon and the snow beneath it, melting them into a pool of liquid in an instant.

“Hiss—” A tearing pain radiated from his chest, making Fang Tang grimace as icy air snaked through his teeth and into his gut.

After a moment’s pause to steady himself, Fang Tang picked up his decomposition hammer and approached the corpse of the first snow demon. He wanted to see if a creature made almost entirely of water could still yield a bead.

Bang, bang.

He gazed at the bead glowing a deep, purplish red in the water, falling silent.

“So, even without blood, a bead forms. That means my theory was right—the beads aren’t made by the cave creatures, but rather, they’re what make the cave creatures.”

“But then, why can’t earth dogs, scorpions, or man-eating flowers produce beads? Are they simply too weak? Or are they special cases?”

A string of questions circled in Fang Tang’s mind, making him forget the pain—if only for a moment.

But pain soon dragged him back to reality.

“This injury is serious. I won’t be able to do any work for a while—who knows when I’ll recover?”

“It’s a pity about the other snow demon—completely melted into water, so I can’t decompose it for a bead.”

With a sigh, Fang Tang picked up the bead from the ground and strode to the icy table where blueprints were laid out.

The blueprint depicted a gun brimming with futuristic flair—clearly a weapon meant to be wielded with both hands.

But there was no time to dwell on it. The cold and pain were making his head swim. Fang Tang took the blueprint and walked to the wall. He carved open a passage and hurried into Cave 71.

Emerging from the frigid cave, Fang Tang collapsed to the ground, lips bloodless and hair glittering with ice crystals. He set up his tent, lay down on the camp bed, and used the bandages Xie Ling had given him before.

Even without medicine, these blueprint-made bandages had healing properties. He just didn’t know how effective they would be.

Not that it mattered; the dizziness in his head was growing stronger and stronger.

With a dull thud, Fang Tang fell onto the bed and lost consciousness.