The sheer number of coincidences stacked up like this. Had I not cultivated the methods from that ancient book, facing this Mountain of Blades today would have only left me as a pile of shredded meat.

But now, with those techniques at my command, I could propel myself further, perhaps even leap directly onto the ten-meter-high platform. Still, for the sake of caution, I needed to first gauge exactly how high I could jump.

So, I backed up a few steps, dropped all the heavy items I was carrying, and attempted to jump as high as I could. A person's maximum vertical leap is usually just over a meter, achievable only by professional volleyball or basketball players.

I used to play basketball; my jumping ability wasn't bad, topping out at about seventy centimeters. Now, facing the challenge of a ten-meter ascent, I felt a distinct wave of nervousness.

I performed a few light jumps in place to loosen up, then took a long, deep breath, bending my knees. Swinging my arms, squatting low, generating force—I leaped upward with everything I had.

At the apex of the jump, I focused my mind, pushing myself higher. Immediately, I felt as if my backside had been kicked; I shot upward.

That sensation was exhilarating; the rapid climb made my skin feel like it was being stretched taut, like riding a free-fall amusement ride. As I caught my breath, I glanced down.

The fluorescent markers on the ground had shrunk to mere specks. By estimation, I had jumped seven or eight meters, but still short of the ten-meter mark.

Next, I felt the emptiness beneath my feet, and the descent began. This plummet was even more intense than the ascent; my heart hammered against my ribs.

I knew that covering seven or eight meters would take less than a second before I slammed into the ground. Thus, I activated my deceleration force preemptively.

I discovered that each time I channeled my mental power, there was an approximate three-second interval, which perfectly accommodated one upward jump and one downward landing. So, just as I engaged the buffering force, it neutralized the downward momentum, preventing serious injury.

However, unaccustomed to such violent movement, I stumbled forward several steps before finally collapsing onto the ground. Standing up, I brushed the dust off my clothes and chuckled.

While I was incredibly excited about possessing such an ability—I was practically half Spider-Man now—this experiment clearly showed me the vast gap separating me from the ten-meter wall. I frowned, contemplating, murmuring to myself, "I wonder if practicing this kind of jump will actually increase the height?" With that thought, I rested for a few seconds and jumped again.

This time, I poured all my exertion into the leap, resulting in a far more powerful launch. I couldn't clearly see the distant Mountain of Blades, so I didn't know my exact height, but I sensed that the altitude I achieved had definitely increased.

This realization delighted me. Consequently, I spent a full half hour practicing in that spot until sweat drenched my entire body.

When tired, I consumed some dry rations, then meditated to restore my energy before continuing the practice. I couldn't say how long passed—perhaps just two or three hours—but after countless falls, I finally managed to control the ascent and descent with ease, and my jumping height far surpassed ten meters.

Filled with confidence, I returned to the base of the Mountain of Blades, looked up, and prepared to make the attempt. However, to be absolutely sure, I meditated for a few minutes, stretching my limbs.

Then, I bundled my bow and arrows together and tossed them onto the platform above before preparing to jump. I adopted a deep squatting posture and then sprang upward.

A whoosh of wind rushed past my ears, and I could already see the bow, arrows, and the scattered remnants of human skeletons on the platform, making my scalp prickle. Landing as lightly as a leaf, I let out a small sigh of relief.

Looking around, I noticed that the number of bones up here was significantly fewer than on the ground, meaning very few who reached this level survived the climb. By extension, the next level up must have even fewer remains.

In fact, I mused, anyone who manages to climb to this platform must already be some kind of martial arts master, certainly not an ordinary person. As I pondered this, a pile of bones nearby suddenly shifted.

I immediately snatched up the bow and saber from the ground, eyeing the location warily. Was there something still alive on this platform?

Had someone who climbed up survived? Or perhaps it was a phantom guardian of this level?

I watched as the mound of bones was slowly pushed upward; fragments constantly tumbled away as something large seemed to have been disturbed. At that precise moment, a pair of eerie, gleaming green eyes lit up from beneath the bone pile, accompanied by a low, warning growl.

Before I could properly discern what it was, it sprang forward on all fours, launching itself at me. Its charge was ferocious.

I saw one of its claws carve an arc through the air at incredible speed, clearly aiming to rip me in half at the waist. But I was no longer the man I once was.

Channeling the energy within my mind, I propelled myself backward five or six meters, landing well outside the creature's attack radius. Focusing my vision, I saw it was a massive black dog.

I should have realized the connection between bones and dogs. That earlier black dog competing with rats for scraps must have been another faction within this hellscape.

And now I faced another, significantly larger than the previous one. Could this be the legendary Hellhound?

If so, it was likely an envoy or guardian assigned to this specific level of the underworld. Its primary duty would be to devour anyone who managed to reach this platform still alive.

This was the very nature of the hellish tortures: the Mountain of Blades was designed in multiple layers to ensure that every climber perished. As the guardian spirit of this level, this Hellhound must be formidable.

Furthermore, having feasted on bones for centuries, it was undoubtedly suffering indigestion and needed a fresh piece of meat like me to settle its stomach. Indeed, even though I had escaped its initial attack with great speed, the Hellhound lunged again instantly.

This time, I resolved not to dodge. I drew my saber and swung it towards the beast.

The blade connected with the dog's iron-hard claws, sparking brightly. The Hellhound possessed immense strength; the impact forced me to retreat several steps.

The dog was highly agile. Seeing my defense falter, it let out a howl and lunged once more.

A thought flashed through my mind. As it charged, I suddenly sprang upward.

This time, I held back, jumping only five or six meters high. Seeing the Hellhound miss beneath me, I held the saber high and brought it down towards its head.

I expected this strike to kill the beast, but as my blade descended, I suddenly spotted another dog face growing on the back of its head. I had heard tales of the three-headed Hellhound, but never imagined such a bizarre configuration.

Having an extra face would have been manageable; I could chop them both off. The real problem was that this creature could breathe fire.

As I fell back down, the mouth on that secondary face suddenly gaped open, unleashing a pillar of flame directed straight at me. The heat instantly made the fine hairs on my face sizzle audibly.

But since I had lost control of my descent, I could only plummet directly toward the inferno. I felt myself about to become roasted pork, but at that critical moment, the protective green mist around me began to coalesce with incredible speed.

This substance could temporarily shield me from the flames. Driven by desperation, I swung the saber toward the Hellhound's main head regardless.

Unexpectedly, due to the interference of the flames, my strike went slightly askew. It only carved a deep gash across the spine behind the dog’s neck.

My body bounced off the creature's back and I tumbled back to the ground. Before I could even get up, I heard the Hellhound let out a piercing scream, followed by the sound of its body thrashing violently.

As soon as I looked up, it charged toward me like a maddened bull. Caught off guard, I raised my saber to block, only to hear a crack as the blade snapped—it had been broken by the Hellhound's impact.

I was hit solidly and sent flying backward. Although this blow didn't knock me unconscious, I felt my body drifting away from the platform’s edge.

Glancing back, I saw nothing but blades beneath me. To avoid falling onto the angled slope covered in razor edges, I scrabbled wildly, finally grasping the rim of the platform.

With one hand gripping the edge, I pulled hard, hauling my body onto the platform's perimeter. But before I could catch my breath, I heard the furious panting of the Hellhound in front of me, accompanied by the rapid sound of its charge.

This time, the Hellhound sprinted forward with its head lowered, exposing the second face growing on its skull. That face opened its mouth wide, spitting a jet of flame toward me, who was still prone on the platform.

Panic seized me; I knew there was no escape this time. But in the emergency, a sudden idea struck me: I pointed a finger at one of the Hellhound's legs.

My mental energy pulled sharply on that leg, causing it to slip, and the creature’s entire body tilted sideways. Since it was already close to the platform’s edge, it tumbled straight over the slope of blades.

I watched as its body rolled through the blades in a single pass, instantly lacerated with countless wounds, its guts and viscera spilling out. As it fell the ten meters, the Hellhound was reduced to a mess of mangled flesh.

I lay flat on the platform, gasping for air until I finally recovered. I rolled onto my back.

Just then, I saw a beam of flashlight sweep across the platform on the wall of the level above. Was someone up there?

I froze, finding the thought almost unbelievable, and scrambled to my feet.