Chapter Thirty-Four: Charcoal-Grilled Earth Beetle

"Hey, I told you to go first—why are your legs shaking?" Shaya barked, glaring heartlessly.

The unfortunate Lady of the Goblins darted her eyes around, staring at the charred wild chicken already roasted to a crisp atop the marsh. She thought, if I really follow your orders and walk forward, I’ll end up just like that chicken.

But faced with Shaya’s menacing expression, Ox didn’t dare to shake her head or utter a single word of refusal.

Driven to the brink, Ox suddenly had a stroke of inspiration. She grunted twice, rolled her eyes with exaggerated force, her whole body convulsed, and with a thump, she collapsed rigidly onto the ground, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched tight—she actually feigned unconsciousness.

Shaya walked over and kicked Ox twice in annoyance. Ox, terrified to wake, endured the blows with gritted teeth, even when Shaya’s foot landed on her injured leg. Remarkably, the goblin bore the pain without so much as a whimper.

What a joke—getting kicked is painful, but at least you survive. If you really lead the charge, you won’t even have a chance to feel pain again!

Seeing the goblin stubbornly unconscious, Shaya was helpless. He muttered, "Damn it, always fainting at the critical moment."

He hitched up his trousers, tightened his belt, and stared at the death passage ahead. The air still carried the tang of scorched meat, wisps of black smoke rising from the ground. Squinting, Shaya pondered for a moment, then raised his hand toward the pitiful wretch: "Hey, if you want to get through here, there’s only one way—rush across at top speed in a single breath. Whether you can dodge the flames that shoot up from underground depends on your luck. But your legs are injured, so you probably won’t run fast enough…"

The pitiful wretch felt a surge of warmth—this brute does care about me after all.

Shaya continued, "…I’ll throw you across first. The forest on the far side is safe, about two hundred meters away. If I use all my strength, I should be able to toss you over."

She shrieked instantly, "No way!"

She glared at Shaya in fury. "Are you stupid? Even if you have great strength and throw me across, with that much force, I’d be dead from the landing before I ever reach the other side!"

Shaya frowned, considering, and realized she had a point. He changed his mind: "Then… I'll try rushing across first. If I make it, I’ll weave a rope from bark in the forest and throw it over to pull you across."

With that, Shaya retreated a dozen steps, did a few squats to loosen up his legs. He took a deep breath, then suddenly roared, eyes wide, feet digging into the earth.

With a boom, the ground beneath him erupted, dirt flying everywhere. In a cloud of dust, Shaya shot forward like an arrow! His form blurred with lightning speed, bounding to the edge of the marsh. As soon as his foot touched solid ground, he leapt high!

He jumped astonishingly far—seven or eight meters in a single bound! The pitiful wretch watched in awe, stunned by the brute’s monstrous strength.

Shaya soared through the air, flipping seven or eight times, each rotation carrying him farther. His body traced a graceful arc, plunging deep into the marsh—over ten meters—before his momentum finally waned.

Bang!

Even his immense strength had its limits. As Shaya descended, he slammed into the ground, shattering the hardened earth with a thunderous crash. He landed about thirty meters into the marsh.

The pitiful wretch was about to cry out when she saw Shaya’s landing had cracked the earth. With a roar, a jet of flame burst upward from below. Shaya screamed in agony, tumbling and crawling desperately forward, rolling seventeen or eighteen times across the ground. Everywhere he rolled, new pillars of fire erupted.

No matter how fast he rolled, flames engulfed him, his body charred black like a coal pulled from the furnace.

Shaya howled, ignoring the flames licking his body, sprinting forward in a frenzy. His speed was astonishing—a blur of dust and fire, a smoky figure racing ahead, faster than galloping horses, trailing a string of flames from his rear.

Fortunately, the marsh spanned only two hundred meters. Shaya’s leap covered more than thirty; the remaining distance was devoured in moments by his wild dash. He finally reached the edge, collapsing at the forest border, desperately rolling to smother the flames.

When he finally stopped, his face was unrecognizable, blackened as coal. His leather robe was reduced to tattered, scorched scraps, and the filthy undergarments beneath were burned through, exposing charred, stinking flesh.

This method could only be used by a creature with inhuman muscle power; an ordinary person would never have that speed. A moment’s hesitation and they’d be consumed by the flames.

The pitiful wretch stared, mouth agape—caught between laughter and shock. She was amused to see the brute suffer at last, but astounded by his freakish strength and speed.

Ada, meanwhile, stood calmly, touching his nose. Watching Shaya charge through the fire, his eyes flashed with a strange light. He must not have expected such a brute method to work.

As Shaya staggered to his feet, wincing in pain and waving to his companions, Ada turned, his gaze flickering between the pitiful wretch and the goblin. He sighed, "Well, it’s our turn to cross."

He approached the pitiful wretch. "The goblin doesn’t speak human language. I’ll have to take you across."

Ada’s eyes held a mocking glint. "I can see you’re not like that coarse fellow—you must be of noble birth. Then… you must know how to dance, yes? Let’s hope your steps are practiced."

With that, he pressed a hand to her shoulder, seized her hand, and said coldly, "Waltz Nocturne, Fourth Movement, Sixth Sequence—go!"

Before she could react, Ada’s powerful arm propelled her forward, sweeping her along with his steps.

Ada’s strength was formidable. The pitiful wretch felt like a puppet, heart pounding in terror. Ada’s icy voice rang in her ear: "Focus. If you don’t want to die, dance with me!"

"Left three! Right two! Turn, left foot half-step! Stop! Turn again, right retreat one, good! Don’t move, I turn! Follow me, back! Back again! Stop! Two steps forward…"

They danced across the flaming marsh, bodies weaving left and right, striding through as if performing a ballet.

In a single breath, they crossed over a hundred steps. Flames shot up all around, but each jet missed them by two or three paces—never touching them.

Amidst the flames, the pair slipped through the gaps like ghosts, their steps steady and measured. Ada’s expression was calm, but the pitiful wretch was pale as death, the roar of fire in her ears, her mind repeating a single thought:

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die here! Oh gods, I haven’t even tasted love yet…

Prayers and curses tangled in her mind as suddenly she felt solid ground underfoot. Ada swiftly released her, pushing her aside. "You can open your eyes now," he said coldly.

She opened her eyes and the world spun. Relief flooded her—she’d survived the deadly two-hundred-meter flaming marsh!

She checked herself—she hadn’t even lost a single hair!

"You?!" she stared at Ada in disbelief.

Ada replied icily, "I’m here to find the dragon. I’ve already mapped this flaming marsh in detail—there are one hundred sixty-four fire vents here. I know every vent’s location and the interval between each eruption. I’ve memorized it all. I could walk through blindfolded and never miss a step."

Shaya overheard and roared in anger, lunging to grab Ada by the throat. "Bastard! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!"

"You didn’t ask—you just ran ahead yourself," Ada answered, face unchanged, utterly unapologetic.

"……"

Now Shaya’s face was covered in soot, looking like a professional boiler stoker. He wanted nothing more than to strangle Ada, but remembering the man’s mysterious depth and familiarity with the area—and that he might still be useful—he grudgingly let go, glaring fiercely. "From now on, you lead the way!"

Now, only the goblin Lady Ox remained on the far side of the marsh. Shaya shouted, "Ox! Wait, I’ll throw a rope over. Grab it, tie it to a tree, then climb across…"

He hadn’t finished when his shout startled Ox from her feigned death. The goblin leapt to her feet, looked eagerly at Shaya, then glanced at the flaming expanse between them. Her beady eyes darted—then she burst into laughter.

"Oak! Oak! Freedom! Freedom!"

With that, the goblin, face alight with excitement, turned and fled.

Shaya’s face fell as he watched the goblin wriggle away, furious. "Damn it, my ropes! You ate my food, drank my water, now you want to run!"

A berserk barbarian is terrifying. Shaya suddenly bent down, picked up a rock, weighed it in his hand, then flung it at the distant goblin.

Ox had already run a dozen steps when the rock soared through the air, striking her square on the back of the head. The unlucky goblin Lady finally met her fate—collapsing backward, this time truly unconscious.

"Humph!" Shaya dusted off his hands, declaring proudly, "Let’s keep moving. That traitor won’t wake for two or three hours. We’ll deal with her when we return—if she hasn’t been carried off by some hyena by then."