Chapter 419: The Road to Hell

After sailing underwater for about six or seven days, Old Wang woke up to find the scenery outside the crystal window had shifted from the ocean depths to the surface.

Are we arriving?

Old Wang had long grown tired of staying aboard. He walked onto the deck and saw Winnie and the others already there. Surprisingly, de Broglie and Momosang had also emerged from their seclusion and were standing at the bow, gazing ahead.

"Captain Wang Feng, that's Darkmoon Isle ahead," Momosang pointed toward the hazy white mist in the distance.

The ship's speed had noticeably slowed. The fog over the sea was terrifyingly thick, making it impossible to see beyond ten meters. Four massive soul crystal beams pierced the white mist like sharp swords, sweeping back and forth to detect any hidden reefs ahead.

After moving slowly for about ten minutes, the ship gave a slight jolt, as if bumping against a softly cushioned shore. The Puppet crew swiftly threw down the anchor to secure it to the ground, then nimbly jumped down one by one. After some quick work, they firmly anchored the Bone Vessel to the shore.

The fog here was slightly thinner than at sea, but it still severely limited visibility. Winnie and the others had already packed their belongings and were staring into the mist-covered shore. "Let's go, let's go," Winnie said. "Let’s wrap this up and bail. By the way, you guys are responsible for sending us back after the match, right? Don’t pull some crap like ditching us if we lose..."

She was about to jump off when a shadowy figure cut her off like a specter.

"Regardless of the outcome, the Bone Vessel will return you to where it picked you up," Momosang appeared before her, his black cloak shrouding his sinister, ugly mug in darkness. "However, you won’t be disembarking. Only Wang Feng will go ashore."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Winnie was stunned, and the rest of the Old Wang Squad also looked at Momosang in confusion.

"Nothing much. The Island Lord simply wishes to meet Wang Feng," Momosang offered no further explanation, speaking indifferently.

"The hell...?" Winnie's face darkened. This is even scummier than Sakuman! At least Sakuman had a five-on-five match in the Thunder Path. What was Darkmoon Isle trying to pull? Ganging up five-on-one?

"Isn’t the challenge supposed to be a six-person event? Darkmoon Isle can’t just unilaterally change the rules like this, can it?" Kela frowned.

"Exactly! There’s no such rule. I protest!" Winnie immediately added.

But Momosang said nothing more, simply gazing calmly at Wang Feng.

"Sure," Old Wang chuckled. He had long expected Darkmoon Isle to play by their own rules—he just wasn’t sure how they intended to do it.

Strangely, this arrangement put Old Wang more at ease. If the entire Old Wang Squad had been summoned ashore, he’d have been more wary of the possibility of them being silenced permanently.

As for the influence of the Li family or Rose’s Thunder faction, honestly, it counted for squat on Darkmoon Isle.

"Just wait for me here," Old Wang said as he stepped off the ship. "It shouldn’t take too long."

Momosang and de Broglie accompanied Wang Feng as they disappeared into the thick mist onshore, leaving the other five members of the Old Wang Squad left gaping on the shore.

After the trio had been gone for a while, Mapeier quietly extended a strand of spider silk into the depths of the mist... but it quickly retracted.

Exploration was impossible. Mapeier felt as though the silk had entered a maze, constantly running into walls left and right with no sense of direction. The dense fog not only obscured vision but also seemed to block the transmission of soul power. One lousy thread wasn’t gonna cut it.

Nearby, Winnie was intently controlling something. She had just unleashed a soul card. As a Spirit Beastmaster, she naturally commanded more than one Spirit Beast. Aside from her main combat beasts, smaller creatures often proved quite practical.

She had released a small Spirit Beast resembling a wrinkly mutt, dressed in green clothes and wearing a green sun hat—a rather eye-catching ensemble. Under Winnie’s control, it dashed into the mist at lightning speed, like a green blur.

Winnie kept her eyes closed, her expression focused, as if mentally linked to the beast, sensing everything it saw. But she didn’t last much longer than Mapeier. About half a minute after Mapeier retracted her silk, Winnie suddenly opened her eyes, sucking in a breath and snarled, "Damn it!"

"What happened?"

"There’s a monster!" Winnie’s face paled slightly, but she refused to elaborate on what she’d seen. "Green Hat nearly bought it. Luckily, it escaped back into the soul card in time... He’s no powerhouse, but it’s way faster than any of us. If even it barely got away..."

They all traded looks.

Faced with an impenetrable mist, a maze even Mapeier’s silk couldn’t navigate, and a monster that nearly killed Winnie’s fastest Spirit Beast... How the hell were they supposed to follow? They’d be dead before they took two steps.

"So... we just wait?" Fartsea swallowed hard, rubbing his shoulders. He couldn’t shake the eerie feeling from the mist. If given the choice, he’d rather fight an enemy right here than step into that fog.

"We can only wait here." Winnie looked displeased yet helpless. This was Dark Demon Island, not the Li family's private garden. But after her frustration, her eyes began to dart around mischievously. "How about we take this chance to study that Bone Ship? Hmph, making me this annoyed—when we head back, let's just hijack the Bone Ship! Might as well go all the way and eliminate everyone else on board too! Hmph, just a little poison, and even that ghost-level puppet will be out cold. No one’s better at this than me!"

The moment she said this, as if by coincidence, the ghost-level puppet on the deck turned its hollow yet terrifying gaze toward her.

"Just kidding... Aren’t these puppets supposed to be mindless?" Winnie flinched, lowering her voice, but she didn’t dare bring up hijacking the Bone Ship again.

…………

Leaving Old Wang's Squad by the shore, Old Wang and the others inside the mist encountered an entirely different scene.

As they entered the mist, Momosang took three steps left and seven steps right, seemingly following a specific pattern. After about four or five minutes of walking, Old Wang suddenly found his vision clearing.

The surrounding mist had completely dissipated, and he could even clearly see the distant figures of Winnie and the others muttering on the beach—though they clearly couldn’t see him. This was an enormous barrier, complete with top-tier illusion magic, far beyond what a few simple rune arrays could achieve. Incredible!

The island appeared deceptively tranquil. Ahead, dense trees rustled with the sound of birdsong, a stark contrast to the hellish image Old Wang had imagined of Dark Demon Island. If the mist was an illusion, was this serene facade another layer of deception?

With a thought—

A flash of gold flickered in his eyes. With the two Heavenly Soul Pearls and his recent training, Old Wang could now seamlessly activate the Insect God Eye without detection.

With the Insect God Eye active, the scene before him transformed.

The path was real, the trees were real, and the birdsong was real—but under the Insect God Eye’s observation, their true nature was starkly different.

The pristine cobblestone path now appeared as a treacherous, muddy trail. The lush greenery had withered into gaunt, barren trees with parched, yellowed trunks. The once-cheerful birdsong had warped into eerie croaks and unsettling noises.

But this was only the surface. When the Insect God Eye’s perception peaked, Old Wang sensed the entire island as a massive lid—beneath it, a terrifying vortex of dark crimson swirled, bottomlessly deep and radiating a dread-inducing dark energy, like a slumbering volcano: calm on the surface, seething beneath.

And in the distance, deep within the island, a pure, blazing force of holy light shot into the sky, anchoring the lid-like island and suppressing the dark vortex below, preventing it from stirring.

Like a heavenly pillar quelling the sea... What exactly was sealed beneath?

Old Wang narrowed his eyes, growing increasingly intrigued by Dark Demon Island’s mysteries.

Momosang and de Broglie showed no intention of accompanying him further. After guiding him through the mist, they stopped at the edge of what appeared to be a dignified, wide path.

"The rest of the journey is yours to walk alone," Momosang said tonelessly. "Follow this path straight ahead."

Old Wang nodded. In for a penny, he might as well proceed. The holy light suppressing the evil at the island’s center felt pure and balanced, settling his spirit and stoking his curiosity about this legendary, enigmatic place.

Without another word, he turned and strode down the path.

Behind him, Momosang and de Broglie watched until Old Wang had disappeared into the distance. Finally free to speak, de Broglie perked up excitedly. "Senior Brother, do you think he’ll survive?"

Momosang glanced at him but remained silent. Just as it seemed the conversation would end there, de Broglie, not waiting for an answer, continued muttering to himself, "Tsk, I doubt it! Who knows what the Island Lord is thinking? The guy looks clever and quick, but what a shame... Oh, Senior Brother Momosang!"

Momosang gave him a deep look before finally deciding to put an end to it. He let out a dismissive grunt.

That single response was all de Broglie needed to unleash a flood of chatter, his enthusiasm undimmed. "This path—even we, the people of Dark Demon Island, must follow the designated route, or it’s certain death. How’s an outsider supposed to survive?"

"..."

"If he goes straight, he’ll have to pass seven trials. I heard he took the Thunder Road at Sakuman before. Heh! Our path here is far more dangerous than that Thunder Road... Huh? Senior Brother? Senior Brother! Wait for me! I always get the path wrong! Fine, fine, I’ll be quiet, okay? Or... just one last sentence?"

…………

Before the Insect God Eye, visual illusions were almost meaningless.

Old Wang walked along the dilapidated path and past the bare trees, feeling the sky grow increasingly dark.

Fog began to rise ahead, but this time it was not an illusory mist; it was a real, thick fog that grew denser, soon making it difficult to see anything.

The air here was astonishingly humid, and puddles started to appear on the ground. Strange, bone-chilling sounds drifted from the bare forests on either side, sounding like the lures of ghosts or demons, or perhaps just some unknown monstrous beasts.

If anyone else were in such dense fog where visibility was nearly zero, even the slightest influence from those eerie sounds from the woods would likely cause them to lose their sense of direction. But who was Old Wang... The Insect God Eye was of little use now, so he simply closed his eyes and walked straight ahead. The ghostly sounds seemed to have no effect on him, not even causing the slightest deviation in his steps.

After walking for what felt like an eternity—half an hour, an hour?—he suddenly heard the sound of rushing water, accompanied by a pungent, fishy wind.

Old Wang opened his eyes and looked around, only to find that he had unknowingly left the forest of bare trees and arrived at a riverbank.

It hardly seemed right to call it a river; it more resembled a river of blood! The opposite bank was estimated to be over a kilometer away, and the water in the river was not ordinary water but crimson blood! It flowed and churned, and ghostly howls and wolfish cries echoed continuously from the surface of the blood river. Occasionally, one could see bony arms reaching out from the blood, or a half-rotted, terrified human head trying to escape the crimson waters. But soon, more bony hands would emerge from the blood, grabbing and pulling those who tried to escape back into the depths of the river...

The source of this blood river was nowhere in sight, but downstream, it seemed to lead to a cave. About a hundred meters away, there was a sudden drop, like a waterfall, where endless streams of blood carried withered bones and wailing souls down into the darkness, their final destination unknown.

Tsk, tsk, it seems they were right not to follow. This place is truly unsuitable for children.

On the other side of the blood river, a faint light could be seen, as if guiding Wang Feng.

It seems I need to cross this blood river.

Old Wang searched the area, but the riverbank was empty except for the scattered stones on the ground.

He pondered for a moment, then picked up a stone and threw it forcefully into the blood river. The stone drew a beautiful arc through the air and splashed into the water about a hundred meters away, but nothing unusual happened.

Is it because I didn't throw it far enough?

Old Wang picked up a larger stone and tried again, thinking that if there was still no reaction, he would summon the Ice Bees to fly across.

He weighed the stone in his hand, about to throw it, when a chilling song drifted across the river: "Throw a stone, ask the way... Throw a stone, ask the way..."

Old Wang squinted his eyes and saw a boatman rowing a narrow dugout canoe toward him, swaying gently.

The boatman wore a black conical hat and a Dark Demon Island cloak, holding a long pole. At the bow of the dugout, a flickering lantern burned steadily, giving him the air of a ferryman, though the song was far from pleasant, sounding mechanical, as if his throat were clogged with phlegm. Old Wang felt anxious just listening to it.

The boatman stopped about a meter from the shore. The black conical hat and shadowy cloak had a special soul-repelling effect; even with the Insect God Eye activated, Old Wang couldn't see his face, only sensing that his voice sounded peculiar: "This is the boat to hell. Do you want to board?"

Old Wang smiled: "Does it cost money?"

"It doesn't cost money," the ferryman's voice remained stiff: "It costs a life."

"Should have said so earlier!" Old Wang, far from being frightened, jumped onto the boat cheerfully: "As long as it's free!"

The ferryman seemed a bit surprised. Under the shadow of the black cloak, a pair of strange green eyes blinked: "Then sit down properly."

Splash...

The long bamboo pole in the ferryman's hand was quite mysterious, adorned with glowing green patterns, clearly a fine soul weapon. He continuously poked it into the riverbed to navigate, and wherever the green pole touched, countless ghosts in the blood river shrank back in fear.

Around them, the bloody water churned, and skeletons kept crawling out, struggling and wailing, only to be dragged back by countless withered hands.

The rickety boat moved slowly, while Old Wang watched with delight. A soul ferry? Through seas of blood and mountains of corpses, how many living people had actually seen hell? He had! Too bad he couldn't take a screenshot; otherwise, this scene, with its raw quality, could be directly thrown into *Yujiutian*, making many girls who love watching horror movies at night climax instantly. But...

Wait!

Old Wang noticed that the direction seemed off. Instead of heading to the opposite bank, the boat was following the current downstream. Initially, he thought it was due to the swift current, but gradually, it didn't seem right.

"Aren't we going to the other side?" he asked.

The ferryman gave a ghastly smile: "Those who cross the river with their lives don't take that path."

"Then which path do we take?" Old Wang wasn't really nervous. If Dark Demon Island truly wanted his life, they wouldn’t go through all this trouble. To put it bluntly, this was just a game.

The ferryman didn’t answer. Instead, he retracted the bamboo pole, letting the dugout canoe rush swiftly downstream with the current, then pointed toward the river’s abrupt drop-off.

By then, there was no need to point. The rushing current propelled the canoe forward, and Old Wang barely had time to lean forward for a look before the boat surged past the edge and launched into the air, followed by—

"Holy crap, this is insane!" Old Wang wasn’t afraid of much, but he had a fear of heights, and his stomach lurched.

And the next second—

BOOM! Old Wang, the ferryman, and the dugout canoe plunged straight into a dark crimson whirlpool.