Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 116: The Danger Within the Hut

"Bang!"

The kick landed heavily, sending the monkey crashing into the wall. It collapsed to the ground in a daze, its black eyes filled with pain, terror, and a plea for mercy.

Aizen didn’t care whether the creature begged for mercy or not—this monkey brain was too good an opportunity to miss.

He surged forward to grab and capture the monkey.

But as his foot landed, he seemed to step on something that cracked under his weight. A chilling sense of danger washed over him.

Without hesitation, Aizen bent sharply backward.

"Whoosh!"

Several iron-scented arrows shot past his nose and embedded themselves into the ground beneath him, their fletching still quivering.

From behind and both sides, more vicious winds surged toward him.

With a quick kick against the ground, Aizen flipped sideways into the air to evade the incoming projectiles. At the same time, he drew the Cold Moon Blade, still in its sheath, to deflect the attacks.

"Clang, clang!"

Three short arrows were knocked away, and Aizen landed safely.

But at that moment, the walls of the hut split open, revealing dense arrays of holes. This humble-looking hut had concealed such deadly mechanisms.

Aizen’s scalp tingled as short arrows shot out of the openings, accompanied by the sharp sound of air being torn apart.

This wave of attacks was overwhelming, filling the air with the stifling scent of death. The atmosphere inside the hut seemed to drop by a dozen degrees.

Aizen’s heart pounded wildly. He forced himself to remain calm with the Ice Spirit Technique, parrying the projectiles with his blade as his body weaved through the onslaught like a swimming fish.

"Swoosh!"

A sharp pain shot through Aizen’s left arm, as though his skin had been cut open. A tingling itch spread from the wound.

"Clang!"

The Cold Moon Blade unsheathed, and Aizen spun like a top, his blade forming arcs of slashing, cutting, and sweeping motions. It was as if a green dragon coiled protectively around him.

The sound of sparks flying was accompanied by a series of metallic clashes.

Short arrows were deflected, embedding themselves into the walls or piling up at Aizen’s feet.

The monkey’s initial sharp cries of pain gradually weakened. All the projectiles were blocked, leaving Aizen unharmed, but the monkey had been turned into a pincushion, riddled with arrows and dead on the spot.

"Whoosh!"

The blade flashed as Aizen’s face tightened. He cut off a chunk of flesh from his left arm with a single slash.

The severed flesh dropped to the ground, revealing a patch of blood tinged with a faint greenish hue.

Sweat poured down his forehead as he glanced at the densely packed, poison-coated arrows on the ground. His back went cold with dread.

If not for his heightened reflexes and sensitivity to danger, he might have met his end here.

Even just one arrow grazing his arm had been enough to inject poison. If it had struck deeper, the toxins would have spread through his body, leaving him no choice but to amputate to survive.

Aizen quickly applied pressure to key acupoints to block the flow of blood and contracted the muscles around the wound. Luckily, he had acted swiftly, cutting away the infected flesh immediately. Otherwise, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

In just a short moment, the toxins had seeped into his bloodstream. Any delay would have resulted in it spreading throughout his body—a perilous close call.

Turning his gaze to the monkey, he saw that it had already died. Pierced by so many poisoned arrows, even its brain was no longer edible.

At this point, Aizen noticed something unusual inside the hut. In the inner room, visible through the open door, lay a skeleton.

Aizen’s caution heightened as he raised his blade and carefully approached the inner room, his senses sharply attuned to his surroundings.

He paid special attention to the floor beneath him. The "ordinary" brick he had stepped on earlier had triggered the trap.

The entire hut was paved with similar bricks, but the one he had stepped on happened to activate the mechanisms. It wasn’t a matter of bad luck—there were likely many other triggers scattered across the hut.

Aizen used light-footwork techniques, moving as weightlessly as a bird about to take flight. Each step was feather-light, making no sound as he landed. This technique allowed him to react instantly if something felt off.

The monkey’s presence in the hut, along with the nuts and stones near a bamboo basket, indicated that it had spent some time here, using the place as a play area and food stash.

The noise Aizen had heard earlier was likely the monkey cracking nuts with stones.

However, the monkey had never triggered the traps. It wasn’t a matter of luck; rather, the traps likely required specific conditions to activate.

For instance, the brick Aizen had stepped on broke under his weight, triggering the barrage of hidden weapons. The monkey, being much lighter, couldn’t apply enough pressure to break the brick or activate the mechanisms.

These traps were clearly designed to target humans, not animals.

Whoever had designed this hut was either harboring malicious intentions or preparing for something.

Aizen’s curiosity grew.

He had initially thought this was just a dilapidated thatched hut, but now it seemed the place concealed some secrets.

Quietly, Aizen stepped into the inner room. His gaze fell on a skeleton sprawled on the ground. The clothing on the remains was tattered and decayed, and the shriveled flesh clinging to the bones gave the appearance of a mummy.

The air inside the room was stale but carried only a faint smell of decay—not particularly unpleasant.

Given the heavy humidity of the mountain environment and the hut’s proximity to the waterfall, the moisture seemed to have preserved the body to some extent. Based on its condition, the person had likely been dead for ten to twenty years. Any longer, and the body would have been reduced to bones.

The room was devoid of color.

Only darkness remained.

The darkness seeped into the air, suffusing the atmosphere with its oppressive presence, as if even breathing would bring it into one’s lungs.

A skeleton lay in the shadowy room, standing out prominently, with its fatal wound equally obvious.

Aizen used his blade to nudge the corpse, observing it closely.

Fear and disgust were emotions he had experienced many times, but each time they surged within him, he forced himself to adapt.