Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

Alice took a soft breath. She wouldn't directly observe the other person's body, unsure if her gaze would elicit a reaction. But after her eyes lingered on the dead man for a few seconds, and after focusing her gaze to accurately observe the blood flowing from the corpse and the weapon that had caused those wounds, she began to wonder if she was being overly cautious.

He was just an ordinary villager, strong, but still just an ordinary villager. His physique might be slightly more slender than the others, and he might be better at running or hunting... but he was still just an ordinary villager.

Alice's gaze immediately shifted away.

She saw the 'witch' looking pitiful and begging for mercy. This only fueled the medieval men's violent desires—they stabbed her lightly with spears, waved burning torches in front of her eyes, and occasionally seared her skin from a distance. As the 'witch' screamed in agony, they laughed gleefully.

A familiar scene, a scene that was common hundreds of years ago. But now is not the time to act impulsively.

Alice's gaze sharpened slightly.

[Not a witch…this woman is not a witch. There is no trace of wisdom in her demeanor or movements. The aura surrounding her is genuine fear; she is merely…hmm? Her ears seem a little pointed?]

Alice blinked. While 5.6 vision wasn't top-tier in the 21st century, it was still at the level of a competent pilot. Observing the facial features of a fixed woman from a mere hundred meters away was challenging, but not impossible. And as she confirmed that the woman had pointed ears, and that the dead man had the same feature, the name of a script quietly surfaced in her mind.

This is the world of wizards, though it's unclear whether it's from a wizarding novel or a game... The game version is more likely. This is very likely Velen from the third game, where a cult called the Eternal Flame is hunting elves, dwarves, and all other non-human races, as well as spellcasters... While this is most likely an apocryphal or pseudo-canonical world, the basic logic remains the same. They're currently killing some elven civilians... Considering elves as witches... well, that's a semantic shift unique to medieval fantasy; no need to nitpick.

She breathed a slight sigh of relief. Now that it was confirmed that this was Velen from The Wizarding World III, and that the Order of the Eternal Flame had only burned two ordinary elven civilians, it was only natural that the Order members sent to this rural area to do such a thing wouldn't possess much combat power. As her gaze fell, the specific parameters of the eleven perpetrators came into view.

[A priest who appears to have no fighting ability, two servants of moderate threat, six guards equipped with chainmail, spears, and crossbows. Then there are two lightly dressed witch hunters, armed with longswords and bombs, reminiscent of Yharnam... and knights not in full heavy armor, generally around 1.7 meters tall... or about 90 kilograms in weight.]

[With low perception and slow movements, they are clearly all mortals.]

[They're not hard to kill... but the possibility of spellcasters within the churches of the Outer Scriptures can't be ruled out. If I were within twenty meters now, I could kill them in ten seconds. But since they're this far away... damn, if only I had a gun from the 20th century or later.]

She slid silently down from the tree. Now that she was certain they were members of the Order of Eternal Flame from the wizarding world, and since they were shouting about 'barbecuing witches,' there was no need to spare their lives. Regardless of whether their actions were good or evil in the eyes of this world, they had no reason to live.

The hands that had been busy observing had finished their work, using ropes, strips of cloth, bones, branches, and stones. Two slings and a skull whip were now securely in Alice's hands. Their lifespan might be short, perhaps not even enough to sustain a single battle before inevitably breaking down... but for Alice, it was enough.

So……

The wind shifted again, blowing from Alice's location towards the direction from which the wind had come.

The first target was a priest in ceremonial robes. He was unable to offer any resistance as the sharp stones were aimed at his head along the wind trail.

..........................................

Meanwhile... in the distant capital city of Norvengray.

The witch hunter escorting the criminal died without understanding why a mere herbalist, a lowly sorceress who wasn't even ranked among the top sorceresses—someone who could be easily captured by two fully armed knights or a well-prepared witch hunter at most—and indeed, only two people were needed when she was captured, could unleash such powerful and illogical strength in the final steps of her escort. And why was her own armor so utterly vulnerable to her fists?

He didn't know, nor did the sorceress Felicia Corrie, who should have been burned at the stake in the square. Only one person knew: Zhan Lan, who, in the blink of an eye on the grey moon, found himself in a fantastical medieval world, stripped of his psychic powers, a prisoner, and mistaken for someone else by every creature that appeared human!

A day earlier, Zhan Lan awoke in the dungeon of Norvengray.

It took her about two hours to figure out the general outline of the events, excluding the team battle, which Alice could have accomplished in just two minutes but would have required three or four thousand words to write down. Then she made a decision immediately.

Regardless of what identity he was assigned, these religious fanatics were his enemies. And since they were enemies, there was no need to ask why; he should just kill them all.

But before taking action to kill, one needs the power to kill.

How to acquire power? This question, if posed to Alice, could likely be explored in a script of three to five thousand words before she provides a self-consistent and logically sound solution. But for Zhan Lan, figuring out that the 'primal magic' wielded by the spellcasters of this world could serve as fuel to restart her already sealed genetic lock wasn't difficult. Although her identity—the one Zhan Lan replaced, Felicia Corrie—was firmly bound by something called anti-magic metal, this didn't prevent her from drawing upon the residual magic left within her as a sorceress and gradually transforming it into the key to unlocking her genetic lock.

It took her about twenty hours to convert the magic. Twenty hours, exactly the amount she had calculated, enough to complete the project before she was burned at the stake. And in the fifth minute before she was to be burned, she successfully unlocked the first-tier genetic lock. Then, in an instant, she pushed the unlocked state to the limit of the first tier.

The first stage of gene lock enhances physical fitness, combat instincts, and precise control over every part of the limbs.

The handcuffs and shackles made of anti-magic metal reinforced with composite materials are indeed very hard, but if one were to break all the joints of their wrists and fingers at the same instant, gravity would allow them to fall off naturally. And once this only restraint on the mage is removed, the killing will naturally begin.

The first punch was a deterrent; the power unleashed by the tortured body at the limit of the first-tier gene lock was a full 1.8 tons. This punch directly pierced through the witch hunter closest to her, who was responsible for escorting her to the square, along with his light half-body armor, from front to back, and even split him in two.

This is deterrence, and deterrence has undoubtedly played a very good role.

The faces of the ordinary citizens who had been crowding the city square, waiting to see what was going on, turned deathly pale in an instant. Fear and madness gripped their hearts, forcing them to scatter and scream for their lives like rabbits on fire.

They did a good job, disrupting the formation of the plaza guards just as Zhan Lan had predicted. This gave Zhan Lan a considerable amount of time to calmly recover the strength consumed by that powerful punch, which had caused considerable internal wear and tear on her right palm. She wasn't too surprised to find that even after breaking free from the shackles of the anti-magic metal, she couldn't draw upon the 'primal magic' of the world. However, the mere act of killing just now had slightly shaken her genetic lock, which had already reached the first-tier limit.

Since that's the case, then the task at hand is quite simple. Although he can't mobilize even a trace of spiritual energy, his mental power, which is capable of distorting reality, is so weak that it can barely lift a needle. But a reincarnator is a reincarnator. Reincarnators may not be good at many things, but killing is definitely not among them.

A minute later, there wasn't a single living 'person' left in the city square except for Zhan Lan.

Ah, yes, she killed everyone who couldn't escape the city square immediately. Believers of the Eternal Church, witch hunters, guards, and even the onlookers eager for a spectacle—without exception, they were all swiftly and cleanly slaughtered. If they were unarmed, she seized their swords; if they fired crossbow bolts, she dodged them; then she lifted a hundred-pound object and crushed those hiding behind cover to death. Those attempting melee combat were broken at the joints and their limbs torn apart; those trying to escape but not fast enough were impaled by spears, hurled, and pierced into gruesome pieces of flesh.

She didn't know what kind of world this was, after all, she wasn't Alice. She would exchange famous movie, novel, and game scripts from various eras from the main god when she had nothing to do and then cram them into her head—all she knew was that this was a world that Chu Xuan had prepared for them in his scheme, and before the final battle of the script, all the members who hadn't caught up with the first echelon still had a final chance to grow.

She wouldn't waste this opportunity, so she killed with utmost seriousness. So serious that when she stopped, all that remained in the square were scattered limbs, blood, brain matter, broken weapons and armor, and a deformed monster who should have been burned at the stake with her, now cowering and trembling against the stake.

"Did I go too far?" Zhan Lan flexed her fingers, picking up a spear of similar length and weight to the Chanting Spear with her toe and holding it in her right hand. With a casual flick of her left hand, she wiped away the red and black blood that had stained the steel sword she had snatched from an officer. She realized that although she had absorbed a considerable amount of unknown, almost magical power from the previous killings, she still hadn't managed to unlock the second stage of her genetic lock.

“No, it’s probably because we haven’t killed enough. Or rather, the quality of the killings wasn’t good enough.” Zhan Lan shook her head. She could vaguely sense the sounds of the city guards being mobilized in the distance; an army would soon be coming to surround and annihilate her—she had no intention of hiding or fleeing. The previous killings were for venting her anger and for testing purposes. Next, she planned to try to break through this medieval army head-on. After all, as a reincarnator, she hadn’t experienced that feeling of life and death hanging by a thread for a long time.

But before that...

Her gaze shifted to the street corner at the end of the square, landing on a middle-aged man carrying two swords, one of which was made of steel. He had silver hair, a scar on his cheek, and, like many powerful figures she had seen, exuded an aura of blood and carnage. The man wore a wolf's head badge on his chest, and his eyes had a cat-like golden-green hue—when she looked at him, he looked at her too, and a subtle emotional fluctuation flickered in his sharp eyes.

Ah, it seems that before breaking through the army and battling the spellcasters of this world, a seasoned warrior who is by no means unknown has become an obstacle to overcome. It may be a tough battle, but Zhan Lan feels more than willing to do so.

Before she could utter the name "Zhan...", a strange premonition prevented Zhan Lan from giving her full name. So she settled for the new name she had temporarily acquired.

“Felix Corrie. A sorceress.” Zhan Lan tilted her head slightly, the tip of her spear raised slightly. “I look forward to your guidance.”

“What has turned a kind herbalist into a ruthless executioner? You’ve gone too far.” The white-haired swordsman raised his sword, assuming a deft fighting stance. “Geralt of Leviathan, a Witcher.”

"You recognize me?" Zhan Lan tilted her head to the other side.

The Witcher's voice was calm yet hoarse—"I know him before."

The next moment, swords and spears clashed!

The Abyss of Death, Part One

Zhan Lan is a focused person. Perhaps she wasn't before, but she is now. After experiencing numerous battles, killings, fortuitous encounters, and adventures in the cycle of reincarnation, she learned a lesson: when doing something, one should concentrate fully on it, instead of letting one's mind wander to other things while doing it.

— lunge, slash, thrust, turn, block.

—Change sword, step back, slash diagonally, thrust repeatedly, spin around.

From hand to wrist, from wrist to elbow, from elbow to shoulder, from waist to waist—from scalp to toe—all the strength is twisted into a single burst in an instant. Then it is released through the sword.

A complete immersion, a complete killing spree.

When the sword and spear clashed, it was she who first revealed her killing intent; she made the first move.

Because she knew very well that she was a genuine mortal. Not like Alice, the self-righteous 'mortal' who could suppress opponents with magic with one hand, parry with the other, and simultaneously run seventeen or eighteen threads in her mind, handling numerous events related to and unrelated to combat while still beating opponents whose attributes were generally a level higher than hers—she knew she could never achieve that. Therefore, she had no choice but to concentrate her mental energy and devote all her mental strength to a single skill.

The name of this skill is 'focus'.

Clang! — Clang clang clang clang clang clang —! !!! !!! !!! !!! '

The clanging of metal echoed incessantly, the battlefield stretching from the entrance of the plaza, spearheaded by Zhan Lan, all the way into its interior. Several corpses blocking the way were easily sliced ​​into pieces by the aftershocks of the weapons, and then the pyre that was supposed to end Felicia Corrie was cleanly and decisively cut in two!

Zhan Lan changed guns three times and swords twice, and all the aftermath was caused by her. But the victory was not on her side. And when she cleaved the stake on the pyre in half with a missed strike, she already had seven more wounds on her body.

Each strike wasn't fatal, yet each one inflicted serious damage. The opponent's swordsmanship was less about 'annihilation' and more about 'repulsion'. However, Zhan Lan wouldn't retreat, because the first stage of her genetic lock continued to operate methodically amidst the consumption of what appeared to be 'primal magic'—a killing force. Then, the severed wounds were repaired and healed at a visible speed.

—This guy is very strong.

—This guy didn't go all out.

This white-haired, aged swordsman was even stronger than Zhan Lan had anticipated. He hadn't used his full strength, as he had only used one of the twin swords on his back, and only moved one hand; the numerous explosives and potions on his belt remained unused. With just his single-handed swordsmanship, he had pushed Zhan Lan from the initiative of the initial attack to a passive retreat. While Zhan Lan didn't know what key secret technique was hidden in his unused hand, she could sense an abnormal rhythm of 'primal magic' pulsating within the swordsman's fingers.

The Witcher—if Zhan Lan were to snap out of her focused state, perhaps she would recall that name. However, at this moment, she was solely absorbed in the killing and bloodshed.

This is wrong, incorrect. It has nothing to do with justice, but it's out of control. Yet she's completely oblivious to it.

Sword clashed with sword, sword severed sword; Zhan Lan could ensure that most of her attacks would hit. But her opponent seemed to be able to decide exactly where each strike would land. She tried to change her footwork, but her opponent maintained distance with the agility of a cat. And whenever she tried to take a risky strike, her opponent's fighting style became as cunning as a lone wolf.

Footsteps could be heard in the distance, but they wouldn't arrive for quite some time. Zhan Lan knew she had at least eleven or twelve chances to leave if she wanted to. But she didn't want to move an inch.

—This guy doesn't want to kill me.

—This guy is trying to force me to leave.

These fragmented thoughts surfaced in her mind, but before they could materialize, they were completely overwhelmed by an unnamed fire surging from the depths of her heart. Calmness remained, but there was no thought of retreat—when a brave city guard appeared at the street corner, Zhan Lan casually parried a swordsman's strike. At the cost of her eighth wound, she kicked out a broken spearhead, piercing the soldier's neck.

—Huh, I actually got distracted?

Her mind raced, but faster than her thoughts were her opponent's sword. A gash was sliced ​​open on her right side, followed by a heavy shoulder slam into her chest—accompanied by a low groan and a slide back, Zhan Lan staggered fifteen or sixteen steps through the carnage before regaining her footing. When she regained her fighting stance, she saw the Witcher's eyes, now utterly cold and indifferent.

Ah... this guy is finally going to use his full strength.

Zhan Lan took a deep breath, and the remaining 'primal magic power' erupted with full force, enveloped by her blood and qi. Her entire body swelled slightly as her genetic locks were fully activated. Then…

'Boom—' The atmosphere was torn apart, creating a narrow blast of air that converged into a spear-like strike capable of piercing a tank's armor plating, which slammed directly into the enemy before it! And then—

Everything came to an abrupt end!

A semi-transparent shield, shattering piece by piece, appeared on the Witcher's chest. His figure and steel sword had already moved behind Zhan Lan. A drop of blood slowly slid from the tip of the sword before the hunter straightened up and carefully sheathed the sword.

"The sword was pretty fast." Her gaze gradually slid down, detaching from her neck and crashing to the ground. Gushing blood spurted from the severed neck, and her completely exhausted body slowly slumped down like a deflated balloon.

"I'm sorry, Felicia. I'll find the person who turned you into this," the Witcher said calmly, stepping over the fountain of blood and walking to the other side of the plaza.

Then darkness descended, accompanied by approaching, chaotic footsteps and courageous shouts.

....................................

Zhan Lan slowly opened her eyes. Memories from a few minutes ago, along with the detailed emotional changes she had experienced at that time, flashed through her mind like watching a TV drama. When she realized what she had been thinking just moments before, she couldn't help but slap herself across the face.

—If she had a slap or a face right now.

[Am I out of my mind? Even if you want to kill to train your soul, wouldn't it be better to first leave the dangerous area and then train on bandits, thugs, or even demons and monsters in the wild? Why insist on causing a massacre in the city square? Massacre is one thing, but why not retreat first when you see someone you can't afford to offend? Why insist on stubbornly confronting them there!?]

"Foolish" is an understatement to describe her at that time; she had completely lost her mind, become an idiot, mentally challenged, or something similar. The reasons why that happened became very clear to her after she finally calmed down.

—The 'primal magic', without a doubt, is the result of converting that so-called 'primal magic' to unlock the genetic lock.

[How incredibly stupid! I should have realized that even if Chu Xuan could actually bring down a Saint, he couldn't directly convert the Saint's power into his own. There must be some kind of filtering device or conversion ritual needed to transform that power into harmless components. Before that, recklessly absorbing the Saint's power would only turn him into a puppet of that power!]

[...No, if that's the case, then all the wizards in my world should have gone mad or become fanatics to push the saint trapped by Chu Xuan to his side. But why am I the only one who's lost my mind...?]

As I pondered and recalled, many subtle details surfaced in my mind.

[…I understand now, this is Chu Xuan's trick. The loss of control was his warning, a reminder that fools like me, who forcibly absorb the power of saints, are in an unsafe state… But why would he make it so complicated? Is it because the purification method hasn't been obtained yet? Or… is this actually another form of selection? Or perhaps there are other adversaries in this world who can also directly absorb the power of saints, but are on a different side from us?]

Her thoughts were in disarray; she couldn't understand, and she didn't know how to understand. Although Zhan Lan felt that her thinking in this strange place wouldn't be disturbed by external forces, the speed of her mental processing had dropped to the level of an ordinary person who hadn't undergone any enhancement. She found that she could indeed see some of the truth, but the limit of her exploration seemed to be the level she was currently at.

This is where?

not understand.

Zhan Lan felt as if she were immersed in some bottomless abyss, and was falling into some unknown area.

A strange feeling, an eerie feeling, and the more she focused her attention on these things, the more she felt herself becoming immersed in them—this place seemed to be one of those places Alice had mentioned, called the 'Abyss of Death.' It was said that only the dead would sink into a special area there. However, according to Alice's description, thinking there would become extremely difficult—and since even she found it difficult, Zhan Lan felt that if this lazy bum were to fall into the Abyss of Death, he would most likely become mentally disabled.

Moreover, she didn't think she was dead.