Chapter 31: This is Your Hunt. 【Small Part Forum】
Chapter 31: This is Your Hunt. 【Small Part Forum】
Chapter 31: This Hunt Belongs to You. "The Forum’s Niche Corner"
Ah, divine war...? Really?
Wang Lin stared at this reply, for a moment gobsmacked, unsure of what to say.
A conflict that sounded so cosmic-tier—was this something he could get involved in?
Forced participation? Hell no!
Just then, a comment caught Wang Lin's attention. Behind the default anonymous avatar of the Thread OP was a special emblem—an open, yellowed notebook with frayed edges, accompanied by a quill.
No. 255:
...Him again? Didn’t He just devour the Tidal Prince in the [REDACTED] instance?
What an appetite. It’s like bringing the kids to an amusement park for a family feast.
Huh? Why is the instance name censored?
Wang Lin was about to reply and ask when he noticed the comment was instantly hidden by the system, replaced by a bright red warning.
[System Warning: This comment contains hazardous information. Please post in the appropriate tier-exclusive section.]
No. 256:
! It’s the almighty Recorder!
No. 257:
Damn it, I spaced out and didn’t even see what the heavyweight said... Why is the system so fast?! (crying)
No. 258:
Pat pat, but this is a form of protection, right? Forbidden knowledge burns, and the system prevents us from seeing things beyond our level.
No. 259:
I think I saw the heavyweight mention something about the Fate Domain’s appetite being impressive...?
No. 260:
Got it, divine beings buffet, right? Pouring one out for the Moth God...
(Well, never thought I’d mourn a High Being one day.)
No. 261:
Pour one out +1
No. 262:
OP—status check! If you’re sure Classmate E is genuinely friendly, I suggest you cling to that golden lifeline ASAP... Get his game plan, and try to be as transparent and compliant as possible.
No matter what, remember your ultimate goal—to make it out breathing.
***
Most of the following replies were just shitposting or pouring one out, so Wang Lin didn’t pay much attention.
He silently took the sincere advice from No. 262 to heart. Just as he was about to go downstairs to find Yi Fengchu, he heard a violent rattling at the window.
His heart skipped a beat as he immediately looked up—several moths were smeared against the pane, their pattern-warped ash-white wings spread wide, mimicking death-mask faces covering the entire window.
Their wings trembled slightly, making the faces appear even more lifelike, as if gurning grotesquely.
—What’s going on? Weren’t these moths only active late at night before?
Wang Lin froze. From a distance, he could hear the uproar downstairs in the living room—clearly, the others had noticed the strange phenomenon outside too.
Screams detonated one after another, shattering the facade of calm of Bee-Ant Village.
***
As Yi Fengchu descended the stairs, a telltale flicker of color caught his eye in the corner. He quickly grabbed the little flower snake, which had been hiding behind a red suitcase, playing dress-up as a festive tassel.
Once they were alone, Yi Fengchu lowered his voice. "Why are you here? Did you find something unusual?"
The little snake nodded: *‘Village chief... hurry... preparing next... He will eclose early.’*
Yi Fengchu tried to interpret this, guessing that the village chief was rushing to find the next "chief"—or perhaps someone to serve the Moth God in some capacity.
Who would’ve thought that the mere unseen presence of the false Narrator could frighten the Moth God so much...
Enough to make Him abruptly alter all plans, desperate to achieve His goal before this unexpected variable—the Narrator—could interfere.
With that in mind, Yi Fengchu turned to another question: "Ever since we arrived, we’ve been hearing about 'eclosion'..."
"What does it truly mean for the Moth God?"
Logically, since this was something the Moth God had relentlessly pursued by any means necessary, it must be beneficial to Him.
Just as snakes shed to grow, or wolves molt for seasons...
The fundamental purpose of these changes is survival.
But for a being like the Moth God, nearing divinity, the first possibility Yi Fengchu considered was that each eclosion strengthened Him, bringing Him closer to the position all High Beings crave—
The Divine Throne.
The little snake stared at Yi Fengchu’s thoughtful expression, its tail curling slightly as it offered a thin-voiced explanation:
*‘Eclosion... is His death... and an end... and a beginning...’*
"A beginning, huh..."
Yi Fengchu stroked the little snake’s head absentmindedly, murmuring, "At such a critical fulcrum of transformation—"
"Wouldn’t it also be His most unstable... and peak vulnerability?"
As a reward, Yi Fengchu went to the kitchen and found a chunk of raw chicken, chopstick-fed it to the snake.
After sending off the sated serpent, he looked down at his phone. "What do you think?"
"You’ve been radio silent since we arrived in Bee-Ant Village. Have you gotten used to playing dumbphone in front of your classmates?"
The phone’s screen lazily flickered to life: "What do you want me to say? You’ve already made up your mind, so my opinion doesn’t matter, does it?"
Yi Fengchu arched a brow at its couldn’t-care-less tone. "Aren’t you afraid I might misjudge the Moth God’s state and hurl you into the fire?"
"No need to be afraid, it's just a..."
The voice on the phone cut off mid-sentence, abruptly changing the subject: "In these matters, I’ve always trusted your guesses and instincts—sometimes, when your gut doesn't warn you, that in itself is an answer."
Just then, terrified screams erupted all around, as if a gust of fear and chaos had swept through the entire village in an instant.
Yi Fengchu looked outside. Beneath the oppressively dark sky, countless moths surged from the depths of the mountains, circling restlessly at low altitude like a swirling vortex woven from human faces.
Occasionally, moths fluttered against the windows, sending the students hiding indoors into bursts of screaming.
And outside? It was no better.
The villagers on the roads contorted their faces, their bloodshot eyes bulging, mouths stretched wide open—Yi Fengchu could almost see their red mouths and the dark depths of their throats.
Their tongues convulsed spasmodically as the villagers let out piercing wails.
From their gaping mouths, and even from the narrower, more concealed passages of their nostrils and ear canals, faint glimpses of white, squirming things could be seen.
Before long, those pale things crawled out, shaking as they unfolded their wrinkled wings, frantically emerging from the human bodies.
It was as if these people were nothing more than massive, living incubators, incubating offspring that did not belong to them—or even to humanity.
Yi Fengchu also spotted the village chief with one ear, staggering madly down the road, mindlessly ripping at his clothes, his fingers clawing wildly at his own flesh.
After a moment, he bent deeply at the waist, clutching his arms, as his back split open with a crack, causing his skin to split and hang limply like the furled wings of a moth—instantly reminding Yi Fengchu of the human-shaped figures carved into the cave walls, their bodies bisected by a central crack.
Dense swarms of moths burst forth from the chief’s back, like a blizzard of white ascending into the sky, or scraps of paper caught in a whirlwind.
Despite their faces twisted in agony, between their wails, they still managed to force out hysterical laughter.
In broken, gasping voices, they cried out in rapturous praise:
"—All things submit to the great Shedding Lord!"
In the face of this scene of doom, everything descended into chaos and terror.
Only Yi Fengchu remained calm by the window, silently witnessing it all.
After a long moment, the phone asked, "What are you thinking, seeing all this?"
"I’m thinking..."
His gaze fixed intently on the fluttering swarms of moths, large and small, Yi Fengchu unconsciously swallowed, his eyes burning with hunger—desire.
"I’m thinking, with so much barbecued meat fluttering right in front of me, yet not letting me take a single bite... what a tease."
Though the phone’s voice remained its usual emotionless AI tone, Yi Fengchu inexplicably felt as if it had chuckled softly:
"Now you're talking—this is your hunt."
"Do predators in the wild use rigorous formulas and logical proofs to calculate their hunting success rate? No, they rely on instinct and experience, hardwired into them."
"At times like this, you must trust every guess, instinct, and judgment of yours. Nobody—not even me—gets a say."
"Do whatever you want, no matter how reckless or dangerous. Fate will always flow in the right direction."
"..."
After a brief silence, Yi Fengchu, though somewhat encouraged, couldn’t help but grumble, "Could you stop narrating my actions and thoughts like some nature documentary? It’s weird."
Ignoring the phone’s exasperation, Yi Fengchu turned—only to run right into Wang Lin, who had come looking for him.
Before Wang Lin could even find his words, Yi Fengchu got right to business: "You’ve gained special abilities—what’s called an 'Ability.' I know."
"Huh?"
Still processing, before he could react, Yi Fengchu continued, "You wanna live?"
His tone was so firm, so commanding, leaving no room for hesitation, that Wang Lin instantly stiffened, reflexively snapping to attention and blurting, "Yes!"
"Good. Then do as I say."
Yi Fengchu’s expression softened slightly, his opinion of Wang Lin shifting from "some clueless nobody" to "a decently obedient pawn."
He barked an order: "You’ve got a loud voice and know the others well. Get everyone to quiet down, grab their most valuable belongings—we’re leaving now."
"But the fog in the mountains is so thick..." Wang Lin instinctively glanced outside, terrified of repeating the fate of those four students the night before, trapped in an endless loop.
"Don’t worry about that. When the time comes, those obstacles will vanish on their own."
After this brief explanation, Yi Fengchu locked eyes with him, his dark, fathomless gaze sending an involuntary shiver down Wang Lin’s spine.
Then, in a voice not loud but cutting through the noise of screams, Yi Fengchu repeated:
"—Hurry up. Don’t make me say it a third time."