The Rooted Spirit Tree’s roots filled the entire mountain like a living nervous system.
Under normal circumstances, nothing inside the mountain escaped its perception.
It tolerated small beasts digging near its roots—those creatures posed no threat.
But a Saint‑tier evolver tunneling straight toward its core?
It should have reacted instantly.
Yet Quentin Vilewind kept digging, deeper and deeper, and the tree remained silent.
Evan felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Either the tree was weakened…
Or it was preparing sothing far worse.
He decided not to follow Quentin any farther.
The madman still had a long way to go before reaching the trunk, and Evan preferred to stay alive long enough to think.
He retreated to the first chamber and checked his pockets.
His phone was sohow still intact.
No signal.
No ssages sent.
No livestreams loading.
After dozens of refresh attempts, a few livestream titles finally appeared—no video, no audio—but enough to confirm FangBro was still broadcasting sowhere above.
With nothing else to do, Evan pocketed the phone, pulled out two Strength‑Enhancing Pills, swallowed them, and began practicing Swan Dance in the cramped underground space.
No one could see him anyway.
A proper evolver used every spare mont to grow stronger.
By the ti he finished his sixth pill, his hips were numb, his legs trembling, and Quentin still hadn’t returned.
Worry gnawed at him.
He rested briefly, then crawled into the tunnel Quentin had dug.
The deeper he went, the thicker the roots beca—finger‑sized, then wrist‑thick, then as wide as his thigh.
The tunnel stretched endlessly, hypnotic in its monotony.
Finally, he saw Quentin again.
The madman was digging with manic enthusiasm, hands moving like twin drills.
Evan estimated the distance.
They had tunneled far—far enough that they should be nearing the main trunk.
He had barely ford the thought when Quentin struck the soil with both hands—
—and light seeped through the cracks.
A breakthrough.
Evan’s first instinct wasn’t curiosity.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
It was terror.
He scrambled backward, cursing himself for ever crawling in here.
What else could be on the other side except the Rooted Spirit Tree itself?
Quentin slapped aside the last layer of soil.
A flood of green light poured into the tunnel.
Then he jumped through.
A heartbeat later, the roots inside the tunnel twitched—then violently retracted.
Evan nearly got dragged out with them.
He flattened himself against the tunnel wall, letting the roots whip past him like living cables.
The sounds outside were deafening—cracks, snaps, thunderous impacts.
The earth shook violently.
Evan brushed dirt off his clothes, heart pounding.
He backed away, afraid the tunnel would collapse.
He didn’t get far.
A thunderous crash echoed behind him.
Soil and stone rained down.
He spun around and shone his phone’s light—
The tunnel had collapsed.
Completely.
He had been seconds away from being buried alive.
What Evan didn’t know was that the Rooted Spirit Tree had retracted all its roots throughout the mountain, not just the ones in this tunnel.
Its entire underground network was pulling back to defend itself.
The tremors were the mountain’s skeleton shifting.
With the way back sealed, Evan had only two choices:
Stay here and pray the next collapse didn’t crush him.
Or move forward and pray the Saint‑tier battle didn’t vaporize him.
Neither option was good.
But staying put was suicide.
He crawled toward the opening Quentin had created.
When he reached the end of the tunnel, he froze.
The sight before him was overwhelming.
A massive spherical chamber stretched out before him, woven entirely from thick, interlocking roots.
It was like standing inside a colossal nest.
And at the center—
A trunk thicker than a tower, rising like a pillar that held up the world.
The Rooted Spirit Tree’s core.
Evan had seen it in FangBro’s stream, but only from the outside.
Now he was beneath the mountain, staring at its true foundation.
The trunk glowed with brilliant green evolutionary light.
Countless roots lashed out in every direction, striking at Quentin with terrifying force.
Quentin dodged desperately, but there were too many roots.
He could only survive by shifting into shadow form—but every ti he did, the roots latched onto him with suction‑cup force, dragging him back into physical form.
He lasted seconds at a ti before being forced out and whipped again.
He scread, stumbled, got up, and pushed forward—drawn toward the trunk by so unseen obsession.
Evan stayed at the tunnel mouth, trembling but safe for the mont.
The tree didn’t care about him.
To it, he was no different from the small beasts that burrowed near its roots.
His gaze drifted downward.
Bones.
Hundreds of them.
Human skeletons.
Beast skeletons.
So still faintly glowing green.
Fourth‑tier beasts.
Wendy had told him: the Rooted Spirit Tree was carnivorous.
It devoured anything that ca near its core.
No wonder the Blackrock Mountains had never produced a fourth‑tier beast.
Any that evolved were eaten imdiately.
After consuming so many powerful creatures, it was no surprise the tree was on the verge of becoming a fifth‑tier Panlong Root.
Evan swallowed hard.
He was standing inside a monster’s stomach.
And Quentin was trying to reach its heart.
Reviews
All reviews (0)