A second life, An Eternal journey to Immortality

....

As Jiang Cheng kept running, one of the spider's sharp legs suddenly shot forward like a spear, piercing his right side, just below his ribs. A small hole was torn open in his flesh, and blood splattered onto the ground as pain surged through his body.

"Not good!" Jiang Cheng gasped, his heart tightening in shock.

He staggered to a halt, clutching his wound with his left hand to stem the bleeding. His breathing quickened, but he forced himself to stay calm. Raising his sword with his right hand, he assumed a defensive stance, his eyes locked onto the spider.

The beast's fangs clicked menacingly, and its many eyes gleamed with a cruel intelligence, as though savoring his pain.

Jiang Cheng's face twisted in a mix of pain and frustration.

"Damn it… this dog life of mine is really being pushed to the limit!"

The spider's eyes gleamed with a sinister light, its fangs clattering together, as if mocking Jiang Cheng's futile resistance.

Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth. The pain from his chest burned like fire, but what made his heart ache even more was the realization—

"Damn it… medical expenses again! Dog Author, are you trying to bankrupt me?!"

He tightened his grip on his sword, adopting a defensive stance, but his eyes flickered with calculation.

"I'm at my limit… but maybe… maybe if I act pitiful enough, the Dog Author's compassion might trigger some protagonist halo… right?"

He forced a cough, spitting a bit of blood for dramatic effect, and weakly raised his voice:

"Senior Spider… can we discuss this? We're all residents of this forest. Why must we fight to the death?"

The spider paused—half a second.

Then, without warning, it lunged forward, even faster than before. The air split with a sharp whistle as its leg cleaved toward Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng barely avoided the strike. His footing staggered for a breath, but he steadied himself. His face darkened, the last trace of lightness vanishing from his eyes.

The reality was clear. There was no room for words. Only death awaited the slower one.

"Since we must fight to the death… then so be it."

He reached into his pouch, took out a healing pill, and swallowed it. The bitter powder dissolved in his throat, and a faint warmth spread through his chest, slowing the blood loss. The pain dulled but didn't disappear.

He adjusted his grip on the sword. His fingers tightened. His face turned ruthless.

"You really think this young master is an easy target?"

His voice was low, stripped of all pretense. He locked eyes with the spider.

No tricks. No mercy.

The next move would decide life or death.

...

The ground trembled as the massive six-meter Angry Spider reared up, its eight crimson eyes glinting with primal fury. Its fangs, dripping with venom, sizzled upon contact with the soil, releasing a faint, corrosive mist that slithered through the air like a serpent's whisper. Each step it took left deep imprints in the earth, the weight of the beast making the ground seem ready to collapse.

Jiang Cheng stood still.

His right hand clenched around the hilt of his spirit sword. Veins along his forearm bulged slightly, but his face remained cold—expressionless, like still water reflecting a pale sky. Yet in his eyes, a dangerous glint surfaced, sharp and ruthless, like the edge of a blade.

There was no fear, no anger—only calculation.

The power of the Thunderclap Sword Art stirred faintly beneath his skin, but he did not unleash it recklessly. His gaze locked onto the spider's movements, analyzing every twitch of its limbs, every subtle shift in its posture.

The Angry Spider lunged forward, its speed far beyond what its hulking frame suggested. Each movement was like a coiled spring snapping free, every step covering five meters in an instant, its massive legs blurring as it zigzagged unpredictably to the left, right, up, and down. The beast became a shadow weaving through the air, each strike of its sharp limbs cutting down like a guillotine.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Jiang Cheng's sword met the spider's legs in a rapid, brutal exchange. In just a few breaths, they had already clashed dozens of times. The force of each collision sent shockwaves into the air, causing cracks to splinter through the ground beneath their feet. Every blow was enough to reduce an ordinary mortal into a blood mist.

His spirit sword, though strong, was beginning to show signs of wear. The blade cracked under the sheer power of the Thunderclap Sword Art, its vibrations trembling through Jiang Cheng's grip. But he didn't care. He continued attacking, ruthlessly, with every ounce of his being. Each strike, each clash, was driven by the knowledge that there was no turning back—he had to win.

The energy of the Thunderclap Sword Art burned through him, draining his strength with every swing, but Jiang Cheng ignored it. His mind was a cold machine, his body a weapon. He fought with a savagery that seemed inhuman, every movement designed to destroy. The sword's power threatened to shatter, but Jiang Cheng's focus never wavered. If his blade broke, so be it. The spider would die first.

his eyes narrowing to slits. A cold glint flickered within them, not only from focus but from a simmering, killing intent boiling in them. Frustration boiled in his chest, today's misfortune, the poisoned wound, the near brush with death. It all ignited something ruthless within him.

The spider's limbs whistled through the air like spears, but Jiang Cheng twisted and stepped between them with deadly efficiency, his strikes precise and relentless. The rhythm of their battle became a blur—blades and limbs colliding in a deadly dance, sparks flashing with each violent impact.

His long hair whipped wildly in the air, tangling and tossing with each twist of his body as he dodged and parried the beast's relentless strikes. His blood, mingled with the spider's venomous ichor, splattered in the air, painting the scene in a chaotic blend of crimson. Every strike that landed left bloody gashes across his body—his chest, his arms, his side—each wound a testament to the ferocity of the battle.

Yet, with every strike he took, Jiang Cheng's resolve only hardened. Each time his sword cut through the spider's limbs, severing another leg with brutal efficiency, the spider retaliated with even greater fury, forcing Jiang Cheng to take another blow in return. His body was becoming a battlefield itself—wounds opened, blood flowed—but his expression remained cold, detached, like a man who had already accepted the inevitable.

The forest trembled under the force of their battle, but neither side showed any sign of retreat. Blood splashed across the ground and air like a storm—Jiang Cheng's blood, the spider's blood—but it didn't matter. He fought with the ruthless precision of a machine, indifferent to the pain, indifferent to the bloodshed, only driven by one singular purpose: to end this beast's life.

After a few minutes of their relentless exchange, Jiang Cheng seized an opening. His sword, cracked and worn from the strain of the Thunderclap Sword Art, was poised to deliver a decisive blow. But as he brought it down, the blade shattered into countless pieces, scattering like shards of glass.

Snap!

The sudden break caught him off guard—just for an instant—but it was enough. The Angry Spider, though weakened and bleeding from severed limbs, seized the opportunity. With a fierce screech, it drove one of its remaining legs forward like a spear, piercing deep into Jiang Cheng's stomach.

Pfft!

Jiang Cheng's eyes widened for a brief moment. He felt the sharp, cold pain tear through his flesh. The sensation was raw—visceral—followed instantly by the burning spread of venom. His body stiffened as blood surged up his throat.

"Cough!"

A mouthful of fresh blood burst from his lips, splattering onto the ground. His long hair, wild and stained with both his and the spider's blood, stuck to his face. His breath came ragged, his chest heaving as the poison began eating away at his strength.

He couldn't move.

The poison was paralyzing him, his limbs growing heavy like iron chains shackled his body. Yet, even as the pain twisted through his insides, Jiang Cheng's face remained cold, his eyes still carrying that ruthless glint. There was no fear, no panic—just the cruel acceptance of reality.

He stared at the spider, which stood over him like a demon of death. It was breathing heavily, its body riddled with gaping wounds, ichor oozing from where its legs had been severed. The beast was on its last legs—both predator and prey had pushed each other to the brink.

But in this final clash, the outcome was clear.

Jiang Cheng was the one who had fallen.

His chest rose and fell with labored breaths as he looked at the spider. The corners of his mouth curled slightly—not into a smile, but something resembling mockery, or perhaps self-deprecation.

"It's a pity…" he muttered, his voice hoarse. His eyelids grew heavy. The world around him darkened.

Just as his consciousness began to slip, a sudden explosion erupted above the spider's head. A burst of spiritual energy illuminated the forest like a flash of lightning, followed by a piercing, desperate voice—a girl's cry.

" Brother Jiang —!"

The spider let out a final screech of agony before its massive body staggered, then collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Jiang Cheng's vision blurred completely into darkness, his last thought lingering on that voice as he fell into unconsciousness.

Liu Ying's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest. Her breathing was ragged, shallow, each inhale shaking as she knelt beside Jiang Cheng's unmoving body. Her small hands trembled uncontrollably as she touched him—his robes soaked with blood, his face pale like lifeless paper.

"brother Jiang … Jiang Brother!" Her voice cracked, breaking into sobs.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Her mind was screaming in panic, but she bit down on her lip until it bled, trying to focus. She fumbled with her spirit pouch, her fingers clumsy, nearly dropping it twice before she finally yanked it open.

Pills… healing pills… detoxification pills… everything!

Her delicate hands crushed the pills into powder—desperate, uncaring that she was wasting their value—her only thought was that Jiang Cheng needed them now. She pressed the bitter medicine into his mouth, her fingers trembling as she tilted his head up slightly, trying to help him swallow.

"Please… don't die… please…" Her voice was a whisper, choked with fear.

She wiped the blood from his lips with her sleeve, but more seeped out. Her stomach twisted—this wasn't enough. Her mind raced with dread. She had seen injured cultivators before… and some never woke up.

Her heart twisted painfully.

What if he doesn't wake up? What if I was too late?

The thought made her throat tighten so much she could barely breathe. Her tears dripped onto his bloodied chest.

Suddenly, voices echoed from the forest—low, cautious, approaching.

Her head snapped up, her teary eyes wide with fear.

Enemies?

She didn't know who they were, but she couldn't risk it. Her instincts screamed at her— run!

Her hands shook harder as she struggled to lift Jiang Cheng's limp body. He was taller than her, his weight pressing down on her small frame, but she gritted her teeth.

"Don't worry, Brother Jiang … I'll take you somewhere safe… You'll be okay…"

Her voice was trembling, but she forced her legs to move. She activated her teleportation technique Each teleportation tore through space in a blur, but her breathing grew heavier with every jump. Her small frame trembled under the weight of Jiang Cheng, his blood soaking into her robes. Her tears hadn't stopped, and each time she appeared in a new location, she darted panicked glances around, eyes wide and frantic, before vanishing again.

The spider's massive corpse, a treasure trove for any cultivator, lay abandoned. She didn't spare it a single glance.

Jiang Cheng's life was more important.

The instant they reappeared near the hidden cave they had scouted before, Liu Ying didn't stop. She carried him inside, half dragging him, her tears falling the entire time. Once inside, she laid him down carefully on the stone floor. Her hands hovered over his chest still rising and falling faintly.

He was still breathing.

She let out a shaky breath, her knees giving out beneath her as she slumped beside him. Her chest heaved, the shock and exhaustion hitting her all at once.

Her fingers gently brushed his blood-matted hair away from his face. Her heart ached seeing him like this—so strong, so cold and fearless… yet now so vulnerable.

She bit her lip again, hard enough to draw more blood, trying to stifle her sobs.

"Please… just wake up…"

Her voice was soft, desperate.

She curled her small body close beside him, watching his every breath like her life depended on it.

Waiting.