Unyielding Bone of Dust

As if it was on the tip of his tongue, yet forever a vague notion in his mind, he could not recall where he had heard it...

Lin Suqing, filled with a bellyful of doubts and with lingering fright, moved in small steps, gingerly approaching the burly and strong Zhen Beast.

He had lived for over twenty years, and the most notable feat he had accomplished was dissecting a few knocked-out live fish. Yet now, he was expected to slaughter a giant beast that stood much taller than him when upright...

...

Suddenly, the tip of one of the Zhen Beast's tails seemed to twitch. Lin Suqing was startled and was wondering if his eyes were deceiving him when he saw all five tails of the Zhen Beast suddenly begin to thrash about—it had awakened!

Simultaneously, the limbs of the Zhen Beast gradually started to rise, and it struggled to pull its head out of the soil!

Lin Suqing's face turned pale with fright, witnessing the Zhen Beast's neck being half-exposed... If it were to free itself, he would be the one it devoured!

In the nick of time, Lin Suqing took a deep breath that caught in his throat, and he dashed forward, lunging to kneel on the ground, intending to pull out his dagger.

One hand wasn't strong enough, so he used both hands. He exerted all his strength until his face turned red and his neck thickened.

Almost at the same moment he managed to pull out the dagger, the head of the Zhen Beast also emerged from the soil, and it fiercely snapped its jaws towards him! In an instant, too shocked to think, he instinctively dodged to the side and immediately swung his dagger, stabbing it into the neck of the Zhen Beast.

In an instant, blood flowed profusely from the massive beast.

The dying cries of the Zhen Beast seemed like the lament of the weak at the end of life, a final accusation against this world. The blow that killed the Zhen Beast felt as if it had also pierced his own throat, robbing him of the courage he had displayed before the Crown Prince, as he had been quick-witted then.

He was inherently timid, driven only by a stubborn sense of competitiveness that had always battled his innate timidity. For instance, sometimes he was so frightened he would panic at a sudden cockroach appearance; at other times, he bravely ventured alone across high mountains and raging waters, solely to uphold a bet and save face.

And now, the fear of the unknown world, facing sudden danger unprepared, caught him completely off guard.

The desperate struggle between life and death and the lingering fright of having survived such peril made him inexplicably want to cry.

Furthermore, this fleeting thought made him deeply aware of his unspeakable weakness. He was saddened that his perennial timidity had forced him to acts of bravery and yet, he also marveled that his perpetual timid self could demonstrate such courage.

...

The Zhen Beast, now powerless on the ground, saw the fierce light in its eyes gradually fading.

Lin Suqing suddenly felt an inexplicable sympathy for the Zhen Beast. He even felt that the Zhen Beast was like his former self—reckless in a harsh environment, all for the sake of sustenance and survival.

...

In his former world, where deception and danger were hidden in shadows, even then, when he was mentally and physically exhausted, he could still seclude himself in his room, whether to cry or to scream, at least there was a small sanctuary where he could safely release his emotions.

But this world undoubtedly places the law of the survival of the fittest out in the open, allowing no weakness. If there's a moment's hesitation, the slightest falter, it could be him being violently disemboweled and preyed upon.

He wanted to go back, he wanted to return now, right this instant, without delay, his heart yearning intensely.

...

The eyes of the Zhen Beast stared fixedly at him, making him feel nervous and scared. His pulsating temples and heart, nearly bursting from his chest, only added to his panic.

With lingering fright, he reached to grip the dagger firmly, swallowed hard to soothe his sore throat from the dryness, clenched his teeth tightly, and pulled out the knife.

In an instant, the fresh blood of the Zhen Beast flowed like a brook, and as the blood slowly soaked into the soil, the last glint of light in its eyes gradually dispersed.

Cowardice and a contempt for his own cowardice sawed at Lin Suqing's heart, unexpectedly giving rise to a surge of nameless sorrow.

He clenched his teeth so hard the veins bulged, furrowing his brow and squeezing his eyes shut. Finally, he made a resolute decision and plunged his knife into the Zhen Beast's throat again, with a blade so sharp it slit through effortlessly.

Indeed, perhaps from now on, he would have to live a life licking blood off the blade, imperishable throughout.

If he were to return...

Could he return at all?

Just contemplating this brought a sour rush to his nostrils, stinging his eyes with scalding pain. When he opened his eyes again, they were unknowingly blurred with tears.

He couldn't see anything clearly, yet everything appeared both vague and distinct.

He extracted the Zhen Beast's viscera, stacking them next to him into a bright red mound. Then he took up a dagger and cut open its still faintly beating heart.

His hands gradually stopped trembling; it seemed he was no longer afraid, or perhaps it was numbness born from despair.

His thoughts were in disarray, his worries knotted – he raised his arm to wipe away the tears that had slid down to his cheeks, feeling a fraction more resolute inside.

It was as though the desperate fight they'd just had had driven out all his lifelong weaknesses.

Perhaps only after facing great adversity could one truly have a moment of sudden, renewing revelation.

Lin Suqing made a vehement vow to himself; he could not die. No matter how long it took, no matter what year it was, he would eventually return.

He wiped away his tears, picked up the double-edged dagger, and, bearing the nauseating smell of blood, began to dismember the Zhen Beast's corpse with furrowed brows.

Even though he was still somewhat unaccustomed to the task, he persisted in disassembling the flesh and bones while continually reminding himself – at this point, fear was of no use, and he could only burn his boats.

From this moment on, he must be fearless, brave, and relentlessly forward.

If there was even the slightest chance of survival, he would cling to it tightly. As long as he could stay alive, what did it matter if he were reduced to being a lapdog?

...

Several crows cried mournfully, streaking across the dimming sun. As dusk fell and the sunset dyed half the sky red, Lin Suqing finally extracted the choicest leg meats from the robust Zhen Beast.

He gathered some branches and kindling nearby, afraid to stray too far for fear of danger in the distance and also worried that vultures or scavengers might spoil the Zhen Beast meat in his absence.

This dinner was critical – it was a key to his survival.

However, he now faced another difficulty – there were no tools to start a fire. Looking around, he had no choice but to follow the survival skills he had read about in books. He began by carving a small socket in a thick branch, stuffed some dry grass into it, then sharpened another stick and twisted it into the socket to make fire by friction.

The process, facile as it seemed in the books, proved to be so challenging that he broke into a sweat.

After what felt like ages, a wisp of smoke finally emerged from the socket. Once there was fire, he transferred the flames to the campfire he had prepared. The fire extinguished several times, and he had to restart and transfer it repeatedly.

By the time everything was in order, he was utterly exhausted and sat grimy and disheveled by the roaring fire, unable to relax even a bit. However, before the Zhen Beast meat could show any promise of being cooked, his own face was already roasted red by the heat.

Suddenly, overwhelming exhaustion surged over him, and in his dazed state, he heard in the distance... a faint rustling noise slowly approaching...