Reincarnated with a lucky draw system-Chapter 506: SOMEONE FAMILIAR

Swiftly, the assassins attacked.

Four flanked from the left, their shadows stretching long in the dim golden light, blades whispering through the air.

Four more circled from the right, feet silent on the lush grass, eyes locked on vulnerabilities.

One slipped behind, cloaked in the valley’s faint mist, while the leader charged head-on, his cold smile promising a quick end.

Escape felt impossible for Chen Mo.

His damaged ankle throbbed with every shift of weight, blood still seeping from his chest wound, staining the vibrant flowers at his feet.

But that’s when the weirdest thing happened.

The once-blissful realm flipped abruptly, like the turning of a cursed coin.

The perpetual twilight sky darkened to an inky black, stars vanishing as though swallowed by void.

The warm, cozy qi that had invigorated his meridians twisted into something ominous, cold, heavy, laced with malice that prickled his skin like invisible needles.

A low hum filled the air, vibrating through bones and stirring primal fear.

The lush environment withered before their eyes.

Vibrant grasses turned brittle and gray, crumbling to dust underfoot.

Flowers wilted into thorny husks, their petals scattering like ash. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The peaceful spirit beasts fled in panic, their gentle glows flickering out as they vanished into the encroaching shadows.

Barren fields stretched outward, seeped in dangerous energy that whispered of ancient curses and forgotten horrors.

Chen Mo and the assassins froze, unaware of the malevolent force they had awakened.

"Let’s finish our purpose and get out of here!" the leader barked, shaking off the short pause induced by the sudden change.

His voice echoed unnaturally in the desolation, motivation laced with unease.

The assassin behind Chen Mo, sensing the best opportunity, made his move.

He crept closer, silent as death, dagger gripped tight in gloved hands.

The blade gleamed faintly as he thrust toward Chen Mo’s exposed neck, a killing strike meant to end it before the target could even flinch.

Chen Mo braced himself, unable to react in time, steeling for the critical wound that would likely finish him.

But before the dagger could connect,

The assassin vanished.

No scream.

No flash.

Not a single trace remained.

He simply dissolved into nothingness, as though the barren ground had claimed him whole.

Chen Mo whipped around in surprise, heart pounding, scanning the empty space where the man had been moments ago.

Dust swirled lazily in the spot, but no footprints, no blood, nothing.

He wasn’t the only one bewildered.

The other assassins halted mid-stride, checking around in growing confusion, weapons raised defensively against an unseen foe.

And then, bizarrely, a second assassin disappeared, winking out of existence mid-turn, every trace erased as if he had never been.

By this time, the fear of the unknown had seeped into the hearts of every one of them.

Eyes darted wildly; breaths came shallow and ragged.

The ominous energy pressed heavier, like a predator savoring its prey.

"Scatter and flee!" the leader yelled, survival instincts overriding all else.

He bolted first, feet pounding the cracked earth as he ran toward the misty horizon.

Chen Mo remained rooted, not out of fearlessness, but because his ruined ankle chained him in place.

Pain shot through his leg with every futile shift; escape was a cruel illusion.

The assassins fled in all directions, scrambling over barren ridges, weaving through withered stumps, desperate to outrun whatever stalked them.

But alas, that could not save them.

One by one, they vanished without trace, mid-sprint, mid-leap, until not a single assassin remained.

The valley echoed with their fading footsteps, then fell silent, save for the low, eerie hum.

Chen Mo watched it unfold, breath caught in his throat.

He sank to the ground, landing on his backside amid the dust, giving up any pretense of escape.

Exhaustion and resignation washed over him; he awaited the same phenomenon that had claimed his enemies.

"Hmm. You have grown since the last time I saw you."

Chen Mo froze, caught by surprise.

The voice, warm, familiar, laced with gentle teasing, pierced the silence like a long-lost echo.

It belonged to someone he had longed to see again, but had given up hope for, believing the person dead forever.

"Little Chen Mo is all grown up... and still causing trouble, huh?"

This time, a figure materialized before him.

An old man with a hunched back, leaning on a simple wooden cane, his weathered face lit by a radiant smile that crinkled the corners of his kind eyes.

Gray hair tied in a loose bun, robes faded but clean, exuding a quiet strength that belied his frail appearance.

"Old man...," Chen Mo whispered, stretching out a trembling hand, then withdrawing it abruptly.

Doubt flooded him.

This had to be an illusion, a mental attack woven by the Tomb’s curses to break his spirit.

"Silly boy," the old man chuckled, his smile unwavering.

"Still as cautious as ever. At least you didn’t lose all your good traits."

The words hung in the barren air, stirring memories long buried under pain and revenge.

Then, stretching out his hand, the old man released a shimmering essence from his fingertips, a warm, golden glow that flowed like liquid light toward Chen Mo’s injured ankle.

The energy seeped into the torn tendon, knitting flesh and bone with a faint tingling sensation, like sunlight piercing through storm clouds.

Pain ebbed away in waves, replaced by renewed strength.

Chen Mo flexed his foot tentatively, marveling at the seamless mend.

"Come with me," the old man informed him gently. "I have a lot to tell you."

Chen Mo stared at the hunched figure as he turned and walked ahead, his cane tapping softly against the barren ground.

Uncertainty gnawed at him, trust this apparition, or brace for betrayal?

Bracing himself, he followed.

The worst that could happen was death, and even now, Chen Mo knew his life hung by threads beyond his control.

Each step tested his healed ankle, the dust kicking up in faint clouds underfoot.

They walked a certain distance through the desolate fields, the black sky pressing down like an unyielding weight, until they arrived before a modest cave entrance carved into a jagged rock face.

Vines, withered but resilient,.framed the opening, and a faint, inviting warmth emanated from within.

Chen Mo entered after the old man, his sword still gripped loosely, senses alert for traps.

"Now, little one, you can relax your nerves."

Contrary to the cave’s rugged exterior, the interior was well-furnished and comfortable, a hidden sanctuary amid the Tomb’s curses.

Soft furs lined the stone floor, absorbing their footsteps.

A low table held simple clay cups and a steaming pot of herbal tea, its aroma earthy and soothing, cutting through the valley’s lingering malice.

Flickering spirit lamps cast a gentle amber glow on woven tapestries depicting ancient stars and forgotten battles.

A small hearth crackled with ethereal blue flames, warming the air without smoke.

After settling down on cushioned mats, the old man reminisced with Chen Mo about his childhood days, tales of scraped knees from street games in the lower world, the first time he had sneaked extra porridge from the pot, secrets whispered under starry skies.

Details only Chen Mo and his true guardian could know, evoking a flood of bittersweet memories that tightened his throat.

"You... how am I sure you aren’t pulling this from my head?" Chen Mo asked, still not fully convinced, his voice edged with lingering skepticism.

"You can’t," the old man replied softly, eyes twinkling with understanding. "But you can follow your heart and what it tells you."