Standing in the depths of the forest, Lin Mu ran through his calculations at speed, then decisively abandoned the route leading toward the Deer King's territory and turned his attention to the noisy ape colony instead.
The Deer King's tracks were distant, and an encounter was far from certain — but Lin Mu would never gamble on that one-in-ten-thousand chance.
Demon beasts were not humans. There was no room for negotiation or maneuvering. Once encountered, it would be a fight to the death with no other outcome.
Given his and Lin Wuxie's current mobility, if they ran into a peak Rank 3 Thousand Beast King in deer form — a creature defined by speed and agility — he would not even have time to activate the Dust Escape Gu before it was over. There would be no surviving it.
Lin Mu made his decision.
But choosing the ape colony, while offering a sliver of hope, was no simple matter either.
Apes were primate-type demon beasts. Their intelligence far exceeded ordinary wild animals, and they even possessed a degree of social division of labor.
Lin Mu thought it through carefully. The strategy he had used against the Boar King — wearing down the subordinates from the outside before provoking the king into a one-on-one — would be completely useless here.
Apes were extraordinarily vigilant. The whole group moved as one body.
The moment a single member died at the perimeter, no matter how silently, the others would immediately raise the alarm. What followed would be fifty enraged demon beasts descending on him at once.
That struck directly at the greatest weakness in his current combat system. His Rank 2 upper stage fighting strength was formidable, but he had almost no means of dealing with large groups simultaneously.
The Metal Rend Leaf Gu could be as razor-sharp as it liked — against fifty apes leaping freely through the canopy in every direction, he would drain his Primeval Essence to nothing before killing even half of them.
And the peak Rank 2 Hundred Beast King at the center almost certainly has wild Gu worms parasitizing it.
Without knowing what he was dealing with, a direct assault was nothing but suicide.
If force won't work, then cunning must.
Having settled on his approach, Lin Mu did not move immediately.
Like a stone with no signs of life, he crouched motionless in the concealed canopy of a tree at the edge of the ape colony's territory.
For an entire afternoon, he did not stir — even his breathing slowed to the barest minimum — and with patient, unhurried focus, he used the Far-Sight Gu to observe the colony's behavioral patterns and patrol rhythms.
It was deep into the night before a crescent moon climbed above the treetops.
Only then did Lin Mu's long-stiffened limbs shift slightly, a sharp gleam of clarity flickering in his deep eyes.
After hours of observation, he had identified one fixed habit in the colony.
At regular intervals, several of the stronger worker apes would carry crude stone jars to a clear water source at the edge of their territory, fill them, and haul them back in a procession to the deepest part of the settlement.
The moment he saw it, a critical piece of knowledge surfaced in his mind — drawn from the original story's established lore.
In the world of Gu, primate-type demon beasts that form colonies of sufficient size almost universally possess one innate ability — brewing alcohol.
They were not just fetching water to drink. They were fetching water to brew.
Lin Mu's gaze traced the clearly worn path the worker apes had stamped into the earth on their trips to the water source. A cold, vicious light gleamed in his eyes as a perfect scheme took shape in his mind.
He immediately called Lin Wuxie forward from his concealed position and spoke quietly but with absolute seriousness into his ear.
Lin Wuxie did not understand his Senior Brother's intent, but as the most loyal of attack dogs, he did not hesitate for a single moment. He turned and vanished into the darkness, sprinting back the way they had come.
Lin Mu himself descended from the canopy like a weightless ghost.
Following the scent trail and tracks the apes had left, he slipped silently toward the water source.
Under the cover of deep night, with most of the colony asleep, Lin Mu used the Dust Escape Gu to infiltrate the outermost edge of the apes' territory. From beside the stone fermentation pits they used for brewing, he stole four large, crude stone jars without making a sound.
Then he returned to the water source.
At the bank of the clear stream, Lin Mu summoned the plump, pale Four-Flavor Liquor Worm from his Aperture.
Driven by a furious surge of Rank 2 Primeval Essence, a captivating radiance spread from the Liquor Worm's surface.
Working with what the stream provided, Lin Mu coaxed the worm into producing four full vats of premium liquor — the kind that would drive any devoted drinker to madness.
At dawn, the eastern sky barely beginning to pale.
Lin Wuxie returned to the water source, covered in mud.
Cradled carefully in both hands was what the two of them had preserved from their kill of the Rank 2 viper several days prior — its venom.
The viper's body had been beaten to pulp, but Lin Mu had deliberately kept the venom. It was the innate poison of a Rank 2 demon beast.
Once it entered the bloodstream, it was lethal on contact — carrying devastating corrosive and paralytic properties.
"Senior Brother. I have it."
Lin Wuxie reported in a low voice.
"Good".
Lin Mu took the venom pouch, cold calculation glinting in his eyes.
He did not simply pour the venom into the four jars.
He knew that while apes had weaker noses than dogs, if the liquor carried too strong a reek of blood and toxin, it would absolutely trigger their suspicion.
This was human intelligence crushing demon beast instinct.
Lin Mu employed a method of elegant precision — layered concealment.
The first two jars were flawless, uncontaminated premium liquor, without a trace of poison.
For the last two jars, Lin Mu first filled them halfway with the same pure, rich liquor.
But beneath that half-layer of liquor, he carefully activated the Red Mud Gu and formed a thin, tough, completely watertight membrane of hardened mud at the midpoint of each jar — a sealed partition.
Below that mud membrane was the killing draught — the full, undiluted venom of a Rank 2 upper stage viper.
This was where his calculation of behavior came in.
The first two jars of pure liquor were to make the greedy, alcohol-obsessed apes drop their guard entirely and descend into revelry and drunkenness. In that state, their formidable vigilance would collapse completely.
Once they finished the first two jars and, still wanting more, cracked open the last two — drinking down the clean upper half — they would discover a thin layer of mud blocking the bottom of the jar.
For a group of beasts already drunk and disoriented, with powerful food-guarding instincts running hot — they would not stop to wonder how the mud got there.
Pure instinct would drive them to smash through it and drink whatever was hidden beneath.
The trap was set.
The two of them carefully erased every trace of their presence at the site, then withdrew and took up a concealed position in a high canopy far from the water source, waiting in silence.
The sun climbed high. Morning light filtered through the mist and fell across the quiet water source.
At the edge of Lin Mu's Far-Sight Gu range —
Several powerfully built worker apes swung through the forest on hanging vines, stone bowls in hand, making their way toward the stream.
They looked around with sharp, wary eyes. Only after confirming no predators were present did they dare approach the bank.
Then —
The lead worker ape's nose twitched sharply. It froze.
It had caught the scent — overwhelming, rich, and deep, a hundred times finer than anything their own crude brewing had ever produced.
The apes followed the fragrance and spotted the four large, familiar stone jars sitting at the water's edge.
Chee? Chee chee!
The wariness in their eyes ignited into frenzied excitement in an instant.
These apes instinctively assumed some careless member of the colony had simply forgotten to bring the jars back the night before.
All caution evaporated. They shrieked with wild excitement, waving their arms, and lunged toward the four great jars.
High in the canopy far away, the morning wind stirred Lin Mu's robes.
He watched from above, his dark, deep eyes utterly still.
He exhaled a quiet murmur.
"They've taken the bait."