Chapter 0090: The Enchanted Forest

Jungle! There was a jungle beneath the earth!

The moment he first laid eyes on the lush, verdant expanse before him, Grimm's entire expression froze in shock.

Only after casting several spells to verify its authenticity did Grimm confirm that what he saw was no illusion, but a genuine subterranean world.

Standing at the mouth of the cavern, gazing out at the boundless jungle within, Grimm caught a faint, twisted scent in the air. He stood on a threshold: behind him lay a dark, metallic sheen of hard rock, but a single step forward carried him into ankle-deep green grass, towering trees, and paths blocked by dense vines, rose branches, and berry-laden shrubs.

Now and then, through the sea of green, Grimm glimpsed the fleeting forms of small animals darting through the undergrowth. In the distant heart of the jungle, branches shook, apes howled, and tigers roared, painting a picture of riotous, thriving life.

Yet beneath this vigor lurked a strange, unsettling energy that made even Grimm’s heart tremble.

It took him only three seconds to realize that this must be the ruin of the ancient City of Bliss that Kabi had described. The cause of this fantastical transformation was clear: the massive outpouring of sorcerous energy and terrifying magical pollution unleashed when the Wizard’s Tower was destroyed.

Every Wizard’s Tower was built around an elemental pool to power its arcane apparatus. But when such a tower fell, its energies spilled forth, causing irreversible devastation to the surrounding environment. Here, the concentration of alien energies had grown so intense that it had catalyzed the emergence of a gigantic, mutated jungle.

Yes, this was a mutated jungle, not the primordial wilderness common on the surface.

Any plant or creature exposed to such potent energies would grow and mutate at a pace that defied the laws of life, becoming something wholly new and strange. So, while everything here appeared ordinary at first glance, it was only a façade.

This was already a paradise for monsters.

Grimm shrugged off his thick, stifling traveler’s cloak, wiped the sweat from his brow, took a draught from his waterskin, and then, astride his monstrous crocodile, cautiously entered the jungle.

From the very first step, he knew nothing around him could be trusted.

This seemingly beautiful, green haven was far more dangerous and treacherous than the dark tunnels he had just traversed. What kind of monsters lurked within, waiting for him, he could not guess. But now that he was here, regardless of what awaited, he would have to face it.

It must be said: with three quasi-wizard-level rock python golems at his command, Grimm’s courage had grown tremendously.

Traveling through an untamed jungle was no easy feat.

Wild grasses and flowers, thickets of shrubs, rampant rose vines, sprawling tree branches—these grew in wild profusion, tangled together, filling every gap between the ancient trees. Without his magical crocodile, Grimm would have found it impossible to advance.

Now, relying on the beast’s massive strength and brute force, Grimm felt like a member of a demolition crew, smashing and trampling through the dense undergrowth, carving a broad path where none had existed.

Wildflowers, grass, and shrubs were crushed to pulp beneath the crocodile’s huge claws. Even towering ancient trees, if they blocked the way, were snapped and pulverized. In moments, tree trunks broke, vines snapped, and colorful leaves rained from the sky.

Yet behind these seemingly mundane scenes, countless bizarre events lay hidden.

Whenever the beast’s giant claws pressed into a patch of green, strange, faint sounds could be heard—halfway between an infant’s wail and the shriek of some unearthly monster, so disturbing one wished to cover one’s ears.

When the crocodile lifted its foot, Grimm saw, in a bowl-sized hollow left in the soil, a dozen or so tender green shoots. While all other vegetation had been crushed to mush, these alone survived. Not only did they survive, but they writhed like living things, curling their green tips into serrated shapes like rows of teeth, wrapping tightly around the crocodile’s foot and gnawing with savage frenzy.

Under their near-maniacal assault, dirt crumbled away and the beast’s claws began to show signs of damage.

Ahead, some towering trees were actually uprooting themselves, inch by inch, fleeing the path of the advancing crocodile. Yet always there were reckless mutant plants that dared to attack.

Some resembled sunflowers, but at the tip of their slender stalks, the spread yellow petals framed a woman’s face. Their method of attack was simple: from the tiny mouths in those faces, they spat viscous, fetid, corrosive venom.

Many of the vines dangling overhead also began to twist wildly, their ends splitting into gaping maws lined with rows of needle-like teeth. Should any creature pass too close, a single lunge would be enough to tear its head clean off.

A look of disgust crossed Grimm’s youthful face.

This jungle was like a giant beast in disguise; the moment the crocodile entered, it triggered every lurking danger within. Without sufficient strength, any intruder would be lucky to leave even a shred of bone behind.

Imagine: without the crocodile to carry him, those mutant shoots hidden among the grasses would slice open a traveler’s foot, burrow inside, and feast on their warm flesh. Those walking ancient trees must be the legendary tree demons—once entangled in their roots, ordinary beings would be devoured to the last scrap of flesh.

As for those terrifying plants and camouflaged serpents, they were mere parasites living off the tree demons. While not individually formidable, their numbers alone made them a deadly nuisance.

Grimm raised his head, pointed a finger, and a vine dangling from a nearby tree, inching toward him, burst into flames. Amidst the inferno, the vine writhed and twisted, its gaping, leafy mouth emitting a hideous screech.

But struggle as it might, it could not escape destruction. The flames quickly consumed it, reducing it to drifting ashes.

Perhaps sensing the intruder’s formidable power, a susurrus of whispers rose from deep within the jungle, and countless mutant plants began to flee from the crocodile’s path.

Having cowed these heedless, magical plants, the crocodile continued its heavy-footed march deeper into the forest.

After advancing some distance, Grimm glanced back—the path they had trodden was already sealed by another wave of bizarre plants, as if the jungle itself refused to let its prey escape, still hoping to devour his flesh.

The next assault came from monsters dwelling within the corrupted jungle.

Ordinary jungles teemed with wild beasts, and when such creatures absorbed stray elemental energies, they could evolve into fearsome magical beasts, gaining the ability to wield elemental powers. But monsters differed from magical beasts—they were not born of natural evolution, but were twisted into being by the world’s mutations and pollution.

Their species were manifold, their powers unfathomable. No wizard dared claim to know every kind. In every untouched, primordial forest, one might discover new monsters never seen before.

And they were often more terrifying and bizarre than magical beasts.

The first wave to burst from the depths of the jungle was a pack of mutated jackals.

Their bodies were dark red, as large as calves, most of their fur fallen away to reveal countless festering sores. Most disturbingly, each had two heads—grim, fearsome, with fanged jaws dripping green saliva and an eerie phosphorescence glowing in their maws.

They moved with powerful grace, their hulking frames rivaling lions or tigers. When they emerged in packs from the trees, their chilling howls echoed through the air.

A barrage of semi-transparent wind blades and crackling serpentine lightning instantly enveloped the crocodile’s massive form.

Some of the double-headed wolves bounded nimbly around the perimeter, hurling spells at the beast, while others charged in, slashing at its muddy carapace with dagger-like claws and snapping with razor fangs.

Grimm’s face paled.

In one salvo, the crocodile’s armor was already badly damaged. Without the earthen golem’s protection, Grimm himself would have been in mortal peril.

Each of these double-headed wolves was not especially powerful—at best, on par with an intermediate apprentice. But when a hundred such beasts moved as one, even the crocodile golem, with the might of an advanced apprentice, struggled to withstand the assault.

Gritting his teeth, Grimm tossed out an elemental core.

Where it struck the ground, a rock python even more fearsome than the crocodile erupted from the earth. Its massive body was entirely composed of stone, with an internal diameter of more than two meters. This behemoth surged into the wolf pack, and in moments, a storm of blood and carnage swept through the jungle.

The elemental attacks and physical blows of the double-headed wolves could batter the crocodile’s defenses, but they could neither harm nor pierce the rock python’s stony hide. Thus, the battle became a one-sided slaughter, and the wolf pack swiftly met its grisly fate.