Chapter 3 Mist

"This is Spirit Energy."

Although he had never heard the term in his past life, with the memories of this life, Ian could be certain that the extraordinary scene he had just witnessed was the special ability known as 'Spirit Energy' in this new world.

Ian closed his eyes, and his mind was no longer filled with hazy darkness but rather sprinkled with glimmers of light like stars, drifting and overflowing, like snow in the north wind.

Feeling this unheard of, unseen, and wonderful power that did not exist in his homeland of the past, he smiled from the heart, "Truly peculiar."

He followed his instincts, adjusting with his will, condensing and projecting the sparkling light into his eyes.

Accompanied by dizziness that felt like overthinking for three days and two nights while continuously checking a thesis for plagiarism, Ian opened his eyes and curiously surveyed his surroundings.

As before, under the dim luminescence reflected in his eyes, everything in his sight was enveloped in a haze of colors, varying in shade and depth.

However, compared to the first time, Ian could no longer see the dark aura on himself.

But the dark red haze on his younger brother was still bright.

On the sleeping child's body, the invisible mist would gather and occasionally solidify into the illusion of a dagger.

Ian recognized that dagger.

The edge of the obsidian blade had a layer of dark red hue, exuding a bloody and ancient sensation, coupled with the strange totemic patterns on the handle, it added an eerie and mysterious atmosphere.

The Redwood Natives on Baison Coast used to frequently utilize Obsidian Daggers before the Imperial Immigrants arrived with iron tools.

They sliced their prey's skin and flesh with the stone blades, gutted them, and chose the most tender parts to offer to their totems or the various Mountain Masters and Sea Gods.

With this knowledge, Ian could be sure that the mist he saw was indeed a kind of premonition-based Spirit Energy, correlated with the cultural omens of good and bad fortune from his old home, signaling the imminent misfortunes that the two brothers were about to encounter, even clearly revealing the weapon that would be involved in their calamity.

As for not being able to see the dark aura on himself the second time,

Ian believed that it was due to the reason that 'one should not heal oneself nor cast one's own fortunes.'

Previously, he had seen the dark aura on the original young Ian, but now that he had recovered his Innate Wisdom, it made no sense that he would still be killed by that uncle, so naturally, there would be no color mist surrounding him.

"The red-black color represents a sign of great misfortune, blue is unclear, but my instincts tell me it's harmless, though it must have its peculiarities."

He glanced at the bowl on the cabinet, and immediately closed his eyes, his slender body shaking.

If he hadn't been leaning against the door, he might have indeed fainted.

"Using it feels like a marathon for the brain, and it consumes a lot of physical energy."

After finishing the sensing, Ian, besides feeling extremely tired, also felt waves of nauseating dizziness; he suppressed the bouts of sleepiness that welled up in his heart and analyzed the effects and consumption of this unknown ability, "It's like lacking sugar after overthinking."

"This Spirit Energy might indeed originate from something spiritual and soulful, but it still relies on the physical brain and even the body to operate."

"Hard to understand... intriguing."

Although his body was in crisis, Ian's expression was excited; he lowered his head, gazing at his hands with bright eyes, "What's the principle? Never mind, too soon to think about that."

"Is the effect concretizing the malice of others toward me and my brother, or is it a kind of instinctive extrapolation? Or is it... hmm..."

As soon as his brain started to work, the pain that surged made the boy dizzy, causing him to sit down on the floor against the door, halting his excessive thinking.

The pain was uncomfortable, but it indeed allowed Ian to detect the crisis in advance.

"Not bad... Although there's no direct combat power, it can gather a lot of information to help me break the game."

After sitting for a good while and regaining his strength, Ian turned around and looked at the door behind him.

The boy's gaze was deep: "The blood sacrifice is a done deal. Judging by the color and density of the mist, the original me might have died earlier than my brother, which means that cheap uncle is planning to get rid of me soon and for all."

By corroborating his speculations through Spirit Energy, Ian felt less urgent and anxious than before.

On the contrary, he nodded seriously, his young face looking very adorable, "If that's the case, then there's only one choice left."

"Find a way to kill that scumbag."

With the cutest face, he uttered the most vicious and ruthless words.

An eight-year-old child going against a tall and robust adult, even if that adult had a disability, seemed almost ludicrous.

But if it were a malevolent child with a mature mind plotting against an adult unaware of this...

Then the story could take many turns.

Not to mention, ordinary children wouldn't even recognize everything in their home, let alone know how to use some items as traps. And in any case, the human body is fragile; sometimes, a mere fall can be lethal.

Ian didn't lack opportunities.

Of course, even though it made sense, Ian didn't have much confidence when he made this decision; it was mostly a gamble.

But a threatening lunatic should be dealt with as early as possible; who knew when his uncle would next appear, possibly bringing a few Natives with him?

This was a strange world, and though he had lived for eight years, his understanding of it was still very superficial.

He had to give it his all.

One was a certain death, another was a possible failure that could still lead to death, so why not give it a try!

—When should he kill that piece of trash uncle?

"Today!"

His gaze shifted from slightly nervous to calm and determined, Ian had made up his mind, no matter the cost, even if it meant setting the house on fire, he needed to kill that uncle.

"Let's see what's inside this house first."

Since he had decided to kill his cheap uncle, Ian began to prepare by looking for any tool in the house that could be of use.

Ordinary knives and meat cleavers were meaningless.

According to Ian's memory, in this world, children's strength was much greater than their counterparts in his previous life, and they could carry an axe to chop wood and fell trees.

Adults, naturally, were no different, and Ian could recall images of fishermen easily carrying fish about the same size as himself to the city to flaunt their catches.

This was not normal.

Humans in his former world had all undergone genetic optimization and were very robust, but the humans in this world were even more outrageous.

By proportional calculation, the strongmen of this world did not need any enhancements; they could probably wrestle with a brown bear and punch a wild boar to death.

Of course, these would be the Earth versions of the beasts.

"Is everyone in this world genetically modified or what?"

Ian had not seen the wild beasts of this world, but they would likely be just as outrageous, and he frowned in thought, "Perhaps Spirit Energy can also strengthen the body? Either way, I can't use simple human data for calculations."

"Otherworlds are interesting, but unfortunately too dangerous."

In any case, it was completely impossible for an eight-year-old child to assassinate an adult with a knife.

Manure forks were a bit more viable, at least, since a penetration wound to a vital spot could be deadly to ordinary people, not to mention the chemical and biological damage.

But Ian had some worries as well; after all, in a world imbued with Spirit Energy, whether internal organ punctures could really kill an adult male was still an unknown.

"That guy probably doesn't have the skill; otherwise, he wouldn't be so obscure, only bullying children."

After searching the house for a while and stirring up a lot of dust, Ian indeed found the tools he was looking for.

—Rope, rattan, pitchforks, a bag of slightly moldy flour, wooden skewers for roasting fish, and some knives for skinning and cutting meat.

There were also several very hard, pointed-nose salted fish, which Ian thought could definitely knock someone out, even kill.

"Can this thing actually be eaten?"

Touching the brownish-red surface still covered with salt grains, feeling its steel-like texture, Ian's expression changed: "Could this even stop a bullet?"

The boy could clearly sense that this salted fish, even in death, refused to give in and wanted to fight a person's teeth to the bitter end.

For the moment, set aside this salted fish filled with hatred—a weapon in its own right.

Ropes could be used to set tripwires, and although the pitchfork tines were blunter than expected, they could still fatally wound a person. Flour could be processed to substitute for lime powder and could be mixed with wall ash and charcoal to fight against the madman who wanted his life without regard for martial morality.

If Ian could find some poison, he would use it without hesitation.

Knives, on the other hand, were not so useful because they were too short; he would have to get too close, and it was very easy to have them taken away when confronted with significant bodily disadvantages. However, they could be refashioned to serve as components for traps.

"This seems to be the stick he used to beat me, huh? Fits quite well actually."

Ian even found the very birch stick that had knocked him unconscious, hastening the resolution of the mysteries from within the womb—its tip still stained with dried blood. When the boy grasped it, he instinctively swung and chopped with it.

"Not bad, humans of this world still instinctively know how to wield a stick, looks like they are terrifying upright apes just the same."

Ian chuckled, the innate human ability to use a stick was imprinted in their genetics.

Although it could not be fully confirmed, the humans on the Terra Continent must have also gone through a long period of the wooden and stone tool era, not much different from Earth humans.

Unfortunately, the stick was not very useful; a child wielding it could at most only damage the flowers and grass at the roadside, but it was not quite enough to harm a person.

Collecting materials as he went, he once again found his way back to the room that belonged to him and his brother.

Ian also noticed the porridge bowl placed on the cabinet.

"I remember, in this entire room, there were only three things emitting light—I and my brother of course need not say, but there was also that porridge bowl enveloped in a bluish mist."

The black and red signified danger and misfortune, but what did the faint blue represent?

Ian did not know.

So he walked over to take a closer look.