Chapter Fifteen: The Cypress of Remembrance

The rain was torrential, and when it mingled with the cold mist of the jungle, tiny shards of ice were carried along, stinging sharply as they struck the skin. If she were adventuring alone, Catherine would certainly have woven a shelter to huddle under, avoiding the downpour. Now, however, all she could do was follow behind Ling Mo as he ran, and soon she was soaked through. The wind chilled her to the bone.

Noticing Catherine’s confusion and dissatisfaction, Ling Mo explained, “We’re now within the true bounds of the magical beast rainforest. In reality, nearly every night here, rain falls—only the intensity varies. You must get used to this environment, or you won’t survive.”

Catherine wiped rain from her face and pointed at her drenched clothes, clinging tightly to her body. “But wearing wet clothes like this is horribly uncomfortable, and won’t it lead to skin diseases?”

“That’s why you need waterproof clothing, like mine,” Ling Mo showed her the beast hide wrapped around him. Despite the heavy rain, every drop bounced off the hide, leaving it untouched. “I’ll make one for you later. For now, just follow me—if we’re late, we’ll miss a prime hunting spot!”

Catherine imagined herself wrapped in beast hide and shuddered inwardly. She fell silent, trailing Ling Mo deeper into the rainforest. The ground was flooded, some places submerged over half a meter, so they abandoned running on the ground and instead swung through the treetops, Tarzan-like. The magical beast rainforest was densely packed, tree crowns interlaced, offering plenty of support. Catherine, though, was unaccustomed to this novel method of travel; occasionally she misjudged her grip, wasting much energy. By now, hunger gnawed at her.

Recalling Ling Mo’s teachings, she pressed onward, eyes scanning for opportunity. The tangled vines hanging everywhere might conceal snakes, a potential meal if found.

Suddenly, she spotted an oddity—a vine dangling from a nearby cypress seemed peculiar. Focusing, she realized it was a green snake, hanging head-down. Catherine grinned inwardly; the snakes here were simple-minded, always relying on the same trick.

She paused, approached the ‘vine,’ and confidently reached out to grab it. Ling Mo, glancing back, caught sight of this and his expression shifted, as if he wished to warn her, but he swallowed his words.

Catherine seized the snake without suspense, its cold, muscular texture unmistakable. It was indeed a green snake. Yet, to her puzzlement, the snake didn’t react at all—no swift movements, just limp as if dead.

She lifted it for a closer look; its eyes still held the gleam of life, its tongue flicked in and out—it was alive. Catherine hesitated, then reasoned that as long as it was edible, it would suffice. She braced herself, intending to pull it down from the branch, but to her surprise, it wouldn’t budge!

She jerked her head upward and saw that the snake’s tail wasn’t coiled around the trunk. Rather, it had fused seamlessly with the vine, indistinguishable from the branch, as if the tree itself had “grown” a snake!

A chill surged from her feet to the crown of her head. Catherine flung the snake aside with a cry, desperate to leap away. Yet, at some point, the dangling vines and branches had gathered close, swaying in the wind, weaving a net that encircled her completely!

Upon closer inspection, each vine bore sharp thorns, their tips oozing a strange, viscous white fluid. Even under the relentless rain, the liquid clung stubbornly to the vines, unmoved by the water.

Catherine’s scalp tingled. She recalled her wilderness survival lessons: plants that secrete milky white sap are often highly poisonous. Many primitive tribes coat their weapons in such sap for hunting, the most infamous being “Blood-Curtain Poison.”

Flicking her dagger out, Catherine knew she could delay no longer. The net of vines was closing in, leaving her no room to maneuver. She drew a deep breath, chose a direction, and with a sweeping slash and a swift lunge, charged forward!

With a sickening sound, the vine was neatly severed—but what chilled Catherine was that, instead of sap, a torrent of crimson blood gushed from the cut! At the same instant, a piercing, anguished shriek echoed, like the wailing of ghosts.

The severed vines now surged even faster, forming dozens of sinister claws that reached for Catherine, striving to envelop her completely. Catherine pushed her physical limits, dodging when possible, and slashing with her dagger when escape was impossible, desperately fighting her way out from under the cypress’s bizarre shadow.

Witnessing this, the cypress trembled wildly. Besides those spectral claws, more vines stabbed directly at Catherine—only at close range did she see they were not vines at all, but green snakes growing straight from the branches! Their eyes burned red, jaws agape, flashing fangs as they lunged from every uncanny angle.

A cry escaped her. Pain flared in her shoulder; dodging snake heads had drained her focus, and one of the milky sap-covered branches grazed her. Instantly, a fiery pain radiated from her shoulder through her upper body, reddening her vision. Catherine realized she had been poisoned.

Having struck, the cypress seemed confident in its toxin, slowing its attacks, waiting for Catherine to weaken before moving further. It was clear it valued its snake-like branches, having already lost several to Catherine’s blade, so it now relied on its sinister claws to spar with her.

Beneath the howling wind and icy rain, a tree whipped its branches in an attempt to devour a person—a scene straight from tales of demons and monsters. Another thunderclap split the air, lightning illuminating everything. Catherine finally saw the true form of the cypress: unlike ordinary trees, its trunk twisted, two serpent shapes entwined and writhing upward. At its core was a withered face, eerily human, glaring at Catherine with a hideous, gibbering grin.

Staring at that grotesque visage, a strange idea suddenly struck Catherine. She had no time to hesitate; she acted at once, mustering every ounce of strength to hurl her dagger at the monstrous tree face.

The vines coiling toward her recoiled abruptly, scattered and sparse, trying to shield the tree face from the spinning blade. But the dagger was sharper than expected, slicing through five branches without pause and lodging precisely in the center of the tree face’s brow.

A bloodcurdling howl erupted. The face contorted with agony, blood spraying from the wound so far that some splattered Catherine—despite her being ten meters away!

Catherine collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath. That last attack had drained her utterly; she could barely move. She watched, shaken, as the cypress thrashed in madness, its branches lashing violently. She had never heard, let alone seen, such a monstrous man-eating tree.

The cypress raged for some time, its fury spent. In its hollow eye sockets, two crimson lights flared, burning with hatred as it glared at Catherine. Its massive trunk shuddered, the ground quaking for several meters around. To Catherine’s horror, the cypress suddenly tore its roots free, twisting them into seven or eight limbs, spider-like, and lumbered toward her!

What kind of monster was this?

Catherine was near breaking point, utterly powerless as the tree strode over, its clawed branches seizing her and lifting her high, bringing her toward a gaping, jagged maw glowing with eerie green light.

The next moment, she felt her body lighten—every vine binding her snapped apart, and she fell into a warm embrace. Looking upward, she saw her master Ling Mo’s resolute profile, his gaze fixed intently on the cypress before them. The tree halted, its crimson eyes wary, watching the man with profound apprehension.