Monte’s originally complete consciousness body had ultimately only provided half a black page—he couldn’t even communicate anymore.

Saul, worried about his body in the outside world, didn’t hesitate any longer and exited the mental realm immediately.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Little Algae carrying him, sprinting madly across the rooftops of the settlement.

Beside him was Herman, whose upper body was the only part still mobile. One arm was holding Saul’s legs, and the other gripped a tendril of Little Algae, moving together with them.

Dozens of meters behind them, that massive Second-Rank termite was rapidly closing in.

In its mouth, it was still chewing on one of Monte’s hands.

“What’s going on? It’s still not working?”

Saul immediately accelerated his flight, shooting forward even faster with Little Algae’s propulsion.

Herman shouted anxiously from the side, “It had already reacted at the beginning, but after the termite ate Monte’s body, the magic fluctuations on its body became stronger again, and there were even signs of promotion!”

Saul glanced back at the termite, whose carapace was now sharper and more menacing. He could tell it was already entering the final breakthrough stage.

If it devoured him too, it might really succeed in evolving!

“How much candle left?” Saul asked quickly.

“Just the last stub now. It doesn’t seem very interested in the candle anymore. The chunk we tossed out earlier only made it hesitate briefly—it didn’t go for it.”

“We’re a much tastier lure now.”

“Give me the last candle,” Saul said, holding out his hand.

Without hesitation, Herman handed over the final stub of candle, barely two centimeters long.

Saul clutched the candle in his palm for a moment, then raised his hand and flung it toward the termite’s mouth.

Faced with such an easy snack, the termite didn’t hesitate this time. It opened its jaws and swallowed it—along with Monte’s arm.

Seizing the moment, Saul accelerated again, rushing straight toward his final destination—the Pandeting.

At a glance, he saw the collapsed Pandeting and the exposed basement beneath it. Without missing a beat, he stuffed Herman back into the diary and dove down headfirst.

In the basement lay several narrow-necked bottles, some toppled, each filled with a pale yellow liquid.

By now, the termite had caught up once again.

Saul jumped into the basement and grabbed one of the bottles.

As soon as he opened it, an extremely pungent smell hit his nose.

It was like a mix of mint, menthol balm, and mustard.

The burning sting seared his nasal passages—his brain felt like it had been set ablaze.

He immediately held his breath and even formed a skin-tight mage’s barrier over his body.

Then, concentrating, he conjured a drop of his own magic-infused liquid into the bottle and corked it again.

Behind him, the termite dropped from above, lunging at him.

Saul flung the bottle at the termite mid-roll and triggered the explosion mid-air.

A nauseating stench filled the basement instantly. But instead of continuing its attack, the termite suddenly grew interested in the contents of the bottle. It paused, lowered its head, and began sucking at the spilled liquid on the floor.

Still wrapped in his protective barrier, Saul seized the opportunity and leapt up in a few quick bounds, returning to the shattered upper rooftop of the Pandeting.

Just then, a voice sounded behind him.

“Took a bit longer than I expected.” Kismet had appeared from who-knows-where, sauntering up beside Saul and also gazing down at the feasting termite below.

“This termite acid is what worker termites normally mix with food to feed the queen. Though this one isn’t a queen yet, once it needs to reproduce, it can transition into one at any time. Tsk, it’s close to evolving now. A Third-Rank humpback termite—once it becomes a queen, it’ll be a genuine Bichye.”

Saul didn’t respond to Kismet, his eyes still fixed intently on the feeding termite.

Kismet turned toward him, puzzled. “My dear master little brother, why aren’t you running yet? Shouldn’t you be cracking the barrier formation now? Or are you planning to serve yourself up as the next course for Bichye?”

Saul, however, remained calm. “There’s no need to run anymore.”

Kismet’s smile carried a hint of suspicion. He glanced down again at the termite below and gradually noticed something strange.

The termite had already licked clean the liquid spilled on the ground, but it hadn’t resumed its chase.

It lay sprawled on the ground, its entire body twisting in unnatural ways.

The hard carapace was growing thicker and larger.

However, the newly formed carapace clashed with the old one—either pressing directly against it or sliding through the gaps into its flesh, turning from a protective shell into piercing bone spurs that harmed its body!

The termite’s body was growing rapidly, but the growth was utterly warped.

Its limbs bent inward, while its head twisted upward. Its massive body compressed itself into a knot, producing a constant, grating “krrrk krrrk krrrk” sound.

Soon, even its internal organs were being squeezed out by the abnormal growth of carapace and limbs. With a loud splatter, its swollen abdomen burst open, oozing black-and-white fluids across the ground.

Saul’s face remained indifferent, but inwardly, he let out a deep sigh of relief.

Then, glancing sideways at the stunned Kismet, he said, “Once I confirmed it was interested in the candle made with termite acid, I laced a stronger termite acid solution with a little something… and offered it a treat.”

Saul looked down again, calmly watching the death of a Second Rank demonic creature.

“This humpback termite wasn’t born naturally. I noticed it doesn’t even have a stable mental form.”

Which was why the diary warned Saul—it couldn’t be dragged into the mental realm and destroyed.

It would be like trying to lift tofu with a thread—impossible.

Just like that boy who had feigned death and fled, this thing had also been forcibly accelerated.

Even if it did ascend to Third Rank, it would soon collapse.

Because in the Borderland, where pollution was everywhere, it simply wouldn’t survive.

Who knew if that Monte knew this?

At that moment, the termite’s already swollen and deformed head suddenly exploded. Shards of its shell scattered across the ground, and within it, barely any soft tissue remained.

Clearly, the rapid growth had drained all of its inner nutrients.

Though its six legs still twitched slightly, Saul could already see it—this humpback termite, once full of potential to ascend to Third Rank…

Was well and truly dead!

Without hesitation, Saul summoned Black Blade. With a few sharp slices, he cleanly severed the only intact and stable part—the termite wings—and stored them in his container.

At this point, the look of shock in Kismet’s eyes had turned into admiration.

He stared at Saul without blinking, slapped his forehead, and exclaimed with a laugh, “You’re by far my favorite master so far! Please allow me to offer you a song~”

“Can I pick the song myself?” Saul turned and smiled.

“Of course! Though I don’t know many.”

Saul approached him. Just as Kismet waited expectantly—

Suddenly, Saul threw a punch!

Boom!

“Ugh!”

Kismet took a solid blow to the face from Saul’s fist, charged with dark-element force!

The skin at the corner of his mouth split open, and blood trickled down his chin, staining his robe.

“Your cry of pain sounded pretty nice.”

With that, Saul turned and leapt into the basement.

Kismet gently touched the left side of his face, which had started to swell. He could’ve easily healed the wound—or even dodged that punch entirely.

But he knew… when you really pissed someone off, sometimes you just had to let them vent.

From behind his back, Kismet drew his harp. With his other hand, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and carefully smeared it across the strings.

With the accompaniment of his own blood, he began to play.

(End of Chapter)

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