This time, the Uruk-hai lashed two or three black demon vines around everyone, binding them tightly, and then trudged back, preferring to exhaust themselves rather than allow the two any opportunity to delay their progress on the road.

The Uruk-hai leader’s expression had turned grim; he strode ahead, clearly sensing a great threat lurking within the deep valley—a threat so profound that even the Orcs, who had long occupied this land under the leadership of a powerful wizard like Saruman, were utterly helpless against it, paralyzed by fear to the point of abject terror.

Fang Senyan and the other man had previously bolted, running several kilometers into the pine forest. Despite the immense strength of the two Uruk-hai carrying them, the pace was inevitably slowed. By the time they reached the edge of the woods, the two beasts were gasping for breath, sweat pouring down them, their stench nearly making Fang Senyan and his companion retch.

But at that moment, the Uruk-hai leader suddenly let out a piercing shriek, a sound riddled with pure terror and dread! This leader had always projected an image of ferocity and arrogance, as if life and death were trivial matters to him. No one could fathom what he had seen to elicit such a miserable cry!

Simultaneously, Fang Senyan and his companion’s minds began to cloud over, slipping into a half-waking, half-dreaming state, utterly oblivious to whatever was happening outside.

In the haze, Fang Senyan seemed to return to the old Four Bridges Town, yet he could find no one. Everywhere were violent, vicious thugs in garish shirts. He strained, trying to carve a path of blood, constantly searching for familiar faces, but all strength had vanished from his body.

During his search, Fang Senyan felt his heart grow heavier and more distressed; he desperately needed water. After finally locating a jar and pouring a cup, he took a long drink, only to be horrified to find the liquid was blazing fire! A venomous snake suddenly coiled around his neck, poised to strike his throat!

Fang Senyan’s hands flailed madly, trying to tear the serpent away, but for some unknown reason, his arms would not rise! His throat rattled with dry, choking sounds, and the snake seemed to play with him—flicking its red tongue out but never biting down! Just as Fang Senyan began to think the snake wouldn't strike, the crimson viper opened its maw and lunged!

Startled awake by this shock, Fang Senyan let out a cry and forced his eyes open.

Then he saw the inky black sky speckled with pinpricks of starlight.

It was a night of full stars.

No moon.

Where was the blood and fire? Where was the dilapidated, dying Four Bridges Town?

It seemed everything prior had been either a dream or an intense hallucination. He couldn't fathom why it had felt so terribly real!

Fang Senyan struggled violently, realizing he was still bound tight, but a wave of sheer elation flooded his heart: “Holy hell, I’m not blind!”

Although his vision was still blurry, it was a world apart from the previous total darkness. Once his senses cleared, he realized his entire body was stiff with cold, and his lips were coated in dried vomit.

Fang Senyan turned his head, and an involuntary spasm wracked his body. If he hadn't been tied so securely, he would have leaped up: The Uruk-hai leader's distorted, rigid face was inches away. This creature, deserving only the name 'beast,' wore a bizarre smile, frozen stiff on the snow. His hands were clamped tightly around his own throat, his thick fingers deeply embedded in the flesh, the growth in his neck ruptured, his complexion a gruesome blue-purple. It looked as if he had strangled himself to death! Even in death, his massive form exuded an overwhelming pressure.

A wave of retroactive fear washed over Fang Senyan: If he hadn't been bound so tightly, he might have choked himself to death during that incredibly vivid illusion of the snake tightening its grip.

After a long while, violent choking sounds erupted nearby. Jiao Shi, also bound, awoke. Lying beside him were the corpses of two other Uruk-hai, intertwined in a death embrace—“...of course, not from spent essence…” It was clear they had fought fiercely before death, resulting in mutual destruction.

The two men exchanged glances, filled with the relief of survivors. They were utterly bewildered by what had transpired, but survival itself was a profound blessing.

After catching his breath, Fang Senyan tried again to snap the vine ropes. Although he still possessed considerable strength, the bonds were impossibly tight; there was no way he could break free through brute force again.

As Jiao Shi’s black light-sword consumed considerable Universal Points with each activation, they preferred not to use it unless necessary. Helpless, they resorted to rubbing the thick vines against nearby stones with their hands behind their backs. After much effort, they managed to fray the tightly bound ropes enough to escape.

Once free, Fang Senyan checked on the Elf girl. Her condition seemed worse; she was completely comatose. Fortunately, her clothing was intact, showing no signs of violation. Jiao Shi took the opportunity to search the three dead Uruk-hai. The spoils, however, were devastating… The bamboo canteens at the Uruk-hai waists held their beverage. Jiao Shi took a sip and immediately vomited; the drink was heavily diluted with blood, giving off a foul, fishy stench.

Perhaps this liquid was as delightful to the Uruk-hai as yogurt, but for Fang Senyan and Jiao Shi, even though their bodies were digitized, an A-level difficulty world allowed no room for complacency; snow blindness was a perfect example. Drinking this "beverage" without instantly succumbing to poisoning and unconsciousness would have been a miracle.

Water was manageable—they could simply scoop snow into their mouths, and there was a lake ahead if needed. The embarrassing part was the Uruk-hai food: dried raw meat, on which body hair and strands of coarse hair were clearly visible. Neither Jiao Shi nor Fang Senyan could stomach such fare; they resolved to eat it only as an absolute last resort.

The two conferred. They had two options: turn back toward the location of the avalanche, or venture deeper into the pine forest and cross the lake to continue forward. After a brief, civil debate, they chose to cross the lake and advance. Turning back meant facing a landscape of ice and snow, where they would either freeze to death or starve, compounded by the significant risk of encountering pursuing Uruk-hai again. For two men unfamiliar with high-altitude, frigid climates, it was virtually a death sentence. Continuing forward, while still facing the maddening, lethal mystery, offered a longer potential lifespan.

Guided by the faint starlight, Fang Senyan carried the Elf girl while Jiao Shi scouted ahead. After walking for a long time, they finally returned to the lakeside. Even at night, the pine forest was unnervingly silent. The further they walked, the more numb their feelings became, as if something unseen was fixedly watching them from the concealed darkness.

Reaching the lake, both men were utterly exhausted, primarily due to lack of food, rendering them too weak to swim. They rested near the lake under some pine trees.

After sitting for a while, the thirst became unbearable. With a decisive movement, Fang Senyan climbed down and approached the shore. He took a tiny mouthful of the frigid lake water, warmed it briefly in his mouth, and swallowed. This process took nearly half an hour, alleviating the thirst but leaving him shivering uncontrollably. He quickly gathered pine branches and needles, built a bonfire, and huddled close to the flames until he regained some warmth.

Just then, a soft plop sound echoed from the lake. The two men tensed, holding their positions near the fire, their peripheral vision instantly darting toward the water on their left, where a black shadow moved with incredible speed beneath the surface. Though there was no moon, the starlight was brilliant, casting a shimmering, silver glow across the tranquil water. It seemed, ironically, that a fish was delivering itself as dinner because they were hungry.

Fang Senyan quickly realized the fish was agitated because of the bonfire.

Most moths and small insects in this world exhibit phototaxis, flying into the light even if it means turning to smoke without hesitation. Certain fish were the same. Having grown up on the sea, Fang Senyan had caught thousands, if not tens of thousands, of fish in his life and understood the method of fishing by light perfectly.

Thus, although Jiao Shi was excited, when it came to the art of fishing, Fang Senyan was the undisputed expert. He made a silencing gesture, quietly lowered himself onto the ground carpeted with dead needles and twigs, and began to crawl soundlessly toward the water’s edge. At this point, the disturbance in the lake grew more intense, as if an invisible rod were churning the silver expanse. It suggested the fish within was immensely eager and excited.

The bonfire roared, occasionally punctuated by the soft crack of burning twigs. Apart from the constant lapping water sounds, the surroundings fell into absolute quiet. Fang Senyan lay prone by the water, his breathing controlled to be extremely light and slow, resembling a stone carving.

The fire, receiving no fresh fuel, gradually began to die down, its embers glowing a deep, dark red in the oppressive blackness, fluctuating with the slightest breeze. Just then, the water surface broke with a sudden splash. The cunning fish could wait no longer and leaped out of the starlit water, surging toward the fire!

Fang Senyan lunged forward instantly! The lake water was bitterly cold. The moment his body contacted the water, Fang Senyan felt as if he had plunged into an ice cavern during the deepest winter; even his expelled breath seemed to instantly crystallize, and his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, clicking together with a sharp, distinct rhythm.