The Adventures of Hill (A Masterpiece by the Book Enthusiast Kong Ruoshui)

Hill had been down on his luck lately. It seemed as though every powerhouse on the continent was searching for him. Once a formidable ninth-rank magical beast, he was now reduced to a pitiful fugitive, scurrying about like a stray dog. Damn it! Not long ago, he had counted himself among the continent's elite; but ever since Powell had gone to the underworld, those eleventh-rank magical beasts who had long lurked in the shadows began to emerge, bluffing and swaggering. As a result, Hill had plummeted from a near-powerhouse to a minor character of the lowest tier. This abnormal drop in status left Hill profoundly dejected.

Some time ago, the notorious magical beast trafficker Hill had committed an act that shocked the continent: a case of human trafficking in which the victims were none other than the illustrious Grand Duke of Caesar and His Holiness, Saint Florentino, together with his little magical beast, Mephit. To be honest, even Hill himself felt that selling Florentino was the most glorious deal he had ever pulled off. Unfortunately, during the transaction with the buyer, an accident occurred, forever altering the blissful future Hill had envisioned—Florentino was rescued.

Afterwards, the ever-cautious Hill sensed that trouble was brewing. He scurried about, gathering information on Florentino, only to discover that Florentino had singlehandedly annihilated hundreds of thousands of troops from the Empire of Reis. Later, he’d even forged a brotherhood with the Beast Emperor, Wutz. The news left Hill cold with dread—Wutz was king of all magical beasts below the tenth rank, the highest authority Hill would never dare defy. Realizing the enormity of his blunder, Hill wasted no time: he resolved to change his identity and flee to distant lands.

The north was no longer safe. Returning to his lair to collect his belongings, he packed four hundred green crystal cards, representing years of hard-earned savings—forty-nine million gold coins—into his space ring. Twenty-four ninth-rank magic cores and sixty-three eighth-rank cores—valuable and stable assets, worth at least two hundred million—were also stashed away. Eleven weapons, thirty-three suits of armor, valued at thirty-four million gold coins, followed. Twenty-eight vials of ninth-level Holy Sacrament's Blessing—the best lifesaving elixir, priceless in its rarity, worth eighty million—were carefully stored as well. Three piles of assorted gold coins—Hill's cautious nature compelled him to count them even in haste: a total of 25,364, all added to the ring. Nine milky-white stones, perfectly round and smooth, each the size of an adult’s eye, appeared to contain some unfathomable power. Though their value was unknown and their purpose mysterious, Hill stored them away just the same.

Thus, Hill, who had always dreamed of becoming the world’s greatest merchant, set his northern mansion ablaze. As the flames consumed the ancestral home maintained by his family for three generations, his heart ached so bitterly that tears streamed from him like a fountain. From now on, he would live in obscurity, swallowing his pride and enduring humiliation. Why had it come to this? All because of Florentino...

At the mere thought of Florentino, Hill shuddered. At such a critical moment, safety was paramount. Better to save his own skin than risk all. The most dangerous place is the safest, some said, but Hill dismissed that as nonsense. He resolved to flee as far as possible—to the other end of the continent, to the distant south, or perhaps to buy a ship and seek refuge on a small island in the endless sea, living quietly for three to five thousand years until Florentino had long forgotten him. Then, perhaps, he could sneak back. The sea was Powell the Sea King's domain; perhaps it would be safe there... Ah, why did he have to run at all? All because of Florentino.

The pessimistic Hill hated that charlatan to the core.

Exposed to the elements, sleeping by day and traveling by night, Hill pressed on. After crossing the Sunset Mountains, he grew disoriented. Ahead lay Mist Lake, a thousand-mile expanse perpetually shrouded in fog. On the western fringe of the lake was the terrifying Great Swamp, its air thick with poisonous miasma, a place shunned by all living creatures. After much deliberation, Hill decided to hide in the swamp for a while. But as soon as he entered Mist Lake, he lost his way. What now? He couldn’t call for help—Florentino’s spies were everywhere, and any rescuer might well be acquainted with that damned priest.

Frustrated, Hill stumbled through the lake’s foggy expanse, sometimes wading deep, sometimes shallow. As a ninth-rank magical beast, he could walk atop the water as if it were solid ground. Suddenly, voices drifted through the mist ahead. Startled, Hill pricked up his ears. From afar, he heard a woman say, “Darling, after running so far, we must have shaken off that wretch by now.” Peering through the haze, Hill saw a ragged band of water spiders fleeing in his direction—the speaker was a female spider.

The male spider in the lead glanced about warily. His rank was too low to perceive Hill in the fog. He waved his arms and shouted hoarsely behind him, “I will never let this go, not ever! I’ll find my cousin, and I’ll grind them into mincemeat, mix them with concrete for three days, and then use them as bricks to build a wall—leaving only their mouths exposed!” The female spider asked in wonder, “Why leave their mouths?”

The male spider shook his fists, raging, “Because I’ll feed them eighth-level Holy Sacrament’s Blessing, so they’ll live forever—never dying, but never knowing peace. That’s what happens to those who cross me!” The female gazed at him with adoration. “Darling, you’re utterly despicable. I adore you!”

Hill’s hair stood on end at this exchange. Luckily, he saw that the highest-ranking member of this water spider clan was only at the eighth rank, the two leading spiders. Hill stepped forward, blocking their path. “Heavens above, what do I see? Is it the guidance of the gods or the hand of fate? I, a humble traveler, have encountered the great and mysterious water spider clan!”

The sudden appearance of a man from the mist startled the spiders, making them all retreat a few steps. The male spider, pointing at Hill in panic, shrieked, “What do you want with us? We already gave you Marilyn—why must you hound us to the ends of the earth?” The female spider frantically battered the male’s head with her claws, leaving him bloodied. “Darling, calm down! This one isn’t after us.” The male, wiping away the blood, looked confused. “Ah? Not here to kill us?”

The female whispered in his ear, “No, but this guy isn’t simple. He’s strong.”

The male spider steadied himself and gave Hill an appraising look. “You… Let me tell you, I have powerful friends! Do you know who my cousin is? The name alone would scare you to death.”

“Oh, in that case, perhaps you’d better not say.”

“Then tell me, who are you?”

“I am but a lost traveler. O mighty water spider clan, would you be willing to escort me out of this mist? In return, I will pay a handsome reward.”

The female spider eyed Hill, whispering in her husband’s ear, “Darling, this one’s definitely loaded. Marilyn’s been taken from us anyway—why not…?” The male spider coughed quietly, “Understood.” Raising his head, he said, “You’ve come to the right people. Mist Lake, for a thousand miles around, is our domain. Here’s the deal—pay us, say, five hundred gold coins, and we’ll get you out.”

Hill grinned. “Very well, a fair price.”

The male spider, seeing Hill agree so readily, regretted not asking for more. This fellow really was loaded—he should have asked for six hundred coins!

Just as Hill was about to follow the water spider clan away, a sinister killing intent suddenly swept through the mist. A dark elf with a cold expression, and a swordsman radiating murderous energy, emerged from the fog.

The dark elf sneered, “Anyone connected to Florentino must die. I’m sorry, but your next stop is the underworld.”