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As Yang walked further into the forest, he felt a clear shift in how his inner instinct behaved. The deeper he went, the more it kept acting up. But instead of the blood-freezing terror it used to induce at the sign of danger, now he only felt gentle urges to move left or right. It was like having a navigation system built into him, constantly adjusting his path to keep him safe while still allowing him to move forward.
Yang walked with confidence in the inner instinct's guidance. Some might consider that stupid, especially considering the last time he'd blindly followed it had led him to unbearable agony. But now that he was past the pain, Yang felt it had been worth it. After all, he was now searching to hunt down animals with beast cores intentionally, willing to go through the same agony again in order to gain the benefits.
The forest around him was changing as he ventured deeper. Yang had become rather familiar with the types of plants in the forest over the past six months, could identify most of the common trees and shrubs by sight even if he can't name them. But now he was coming across species he'd never seen before, either in the village or in the parts of the forest he'd explored. Trees with bark that seemed to shimmer in the dappled sunlight. Shrubs with leaves that were almost blue instead of green. Flowers in colors he didn't have names for.
Yang feared he might have to spend the night in the forest. He was going much deeper now, and it was unlikely he'd be able to make it back to his shelter by nightfall. This was the reason he was keeping near the river, making sure its sound remained within his hearing range so he could track where he was going and have access to water. He'd brought some provisions with him, dried fish and meat wrapped in plant fiber, and he planned to forage and hunt while searching for magical beasts.
He saw more animals as he got deeper into the forest. Snakes coiled in bushes and draped over tree branches, their scales catching the light. Colorful insects that looked like flying jewels, buzzing between flowers. Small mammals darting through the undergrowth. If he hadn't walked in here by himself, Yang would have believed he'd somehow crossed into a completely different forest.
He was carefully making his way around a thick cluster of ferns when he felt the instinct give a sharp nudge toward a direction on his right. Yang turned immediately, slowing and silencing his steps. He took his bow from his back and notched an arrow, moving forward with practiced caution.
He made sure to stay hidden behind trees and bushes as he approached. When he got closer, he saw an animal unlike any he'd encountered before. It was a small four-legged mammal, about the size of a large rabbit, feeding on a bush of berries. Yang recognized the plant immediately. It was exactly the same type he'd almost died from eating months ago, the fern berries that looked identical to star berries.
The bush here was large and robust, heavy with berries. The creature eating them seemed completely unaffected by what should have been deadly poison.
Yang hid himself behind a tree trunk and carefully took aim. This creature was smaller than the fireball goat he'd killed. But in a world of magic, was size really an indicator of strength? He didn't think so. That goat had almost roasted him into a piece of coal despite being relatively small. Who knew what this tiny animal was capable of?
Yang carefully released the arrow. It flew true and struck the creature in the side. The animal let out a high-pitched squeal and tried to run, but its legs gave out after only a few steps.
Instead of immediately going toward his kill, Yang carefully changed position, circling around to view it from another angle. He notched another arrow and shot again to make sure it was truly dead. The creature didn't move after the second arrow struck.
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Yang approached cautiously, his knife already drawn. He knelt beside the animal and carefully slit its throat, holding it up to help drain the blood faster with gravity's assistance. Better to be thorough than to be surprised by a half-dead beast with unknown powers.
Once he felt the animal had bled out sufficiently, Yang tied the carcass to his waist with a length of rope and started following the sound of the river to get closer to the water. He needed to clean and butcher his kill before it started to spoil.
He reached the river's edge and looked across the wide expanse of water. On the other side, a herd of deer-like animals stood drinking. They looked up at his approach, their eyes reflecting the afternoon light, but they kept drinking. The river was so wide that there was no chance of either party being able to cross it. They were safe from each other, separated by the flowing water.
Yang knelt at the river's edge and washed the carcass thoroughly, then began butchering and cleaning it. His movements were efficient now after months of practice. When he got to the head, he used his axe to carefully break open the skull, making sure to strike away from the forehead where the core should be located.
Once the skull cracked open, Yang found what he was looking for. A stone smaller than the core from the goat, almost pinkish orange in color and glowing faintly in the fading light.
He felt excitement radiating from the inner instinct, a warmth in his chest that urged him to consume the core immediately. But thankfully, the instinct had learned. It knew that the open forest floor was no place to go through agony, even in order to achieve power. Yang carefully wrapped the core in a scrap of cloth and placed it inside his shirt, tucked securely against his skin.
He needed to find shelter nearby before the day's light ran out. He needed a safe place to rest, and if possible, he should make a fire.
Yang gathered dry wood and kindling from the area around the riverside. He arranged them carefully and used his fire starting technique, rubbing a stick in a groove until an ember formed. Soon he had a proper fire burning, small but warm and comforting in the growing dusk.
He set about cooking the meat from his kill. He'd eat what he could now and keep the rest for later. It was a small animal, thankfully small enough that he could carry the remaining meat with him without too much burden.
Yang roasted chunks of meat on wooden skewers, turning them carefully over the flames. The smell made his stomach growl with hunger. When the meat was cooked through, he ate directly from the skewers, savoring the hot food. It tasted gamey but good, different from the rabbits and foxes he usually caught in his traps.
He kept the remaining meat in a pouch he'd made from plant fiber, then smothered the fire with dirt to extinguish it completely. Leaving a fire burning in the forest overnight would be dangerous, possibly attracting unwanted attention from beasts or setting the dry undergrowth ablaze.
After that, with sunset approaching rapidly, Yang went a few dozen meters into the forest from the riverside. He found a strong tree with thick branches starting about ten feet up the trunk. The climb was easy with his enhanced strength. He found a comfortable position where a large branch met the trunk, creating a natural seat.
Yang also used a length of rope to tie his torso to the trunk securely. If he jolted awake or shifted in his sleep, he'd have some chance of catching himself and preventing a fall that could break bones or worse.
After securing himself, Yang relaxed against the rough bark and looked up through the canopy. The sky was turning from blue to purple to black, stars beginning to emerge one by one. The moon rose, nearly full, casting silver light through the leaves.
The forest was alive with sounds. Insects chirping, night birds calling, the distant splash of something entering the river. But up in his tree, Yang felt relatively safe. Nothing could sneak up on him here without him hearing it climb.
He just watched the stars and listened to the forest breathing around him. He didn't know when exhaustion finally claimed him, but at some point his eyes closed and consciousness slipped away.
Yang woke to the chirping of birds and insects as the sun began rising, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. He blinked away sleep and immediately felt the discomfort of his sleeping arrangement. He was curled up in a small hole in the ground, barely large enough for his child's body, with a large rock covering most of the entrance above him.
He'd rigged the rock with rope to fall into place once he pulled it, blocking the entrance while leaving just enough space for air to circulate. The rock was big enough to protect him from most predators, but he could push it away from the inside when he wanted to get out.
Yang had figured out this shelter solution yesterday after he couldn't find either a small cave or a strong enough tree to sleep in. The trees that were strong enough, thick and tall with sturdy branches, he'd been diverted away from by his inner instinct. Apparently something dangerous lurked in or around those particular trees.
Unlike his original plan of going back to his cave after spending a night or two in the forest to gather beast cores, it had been almost two weeks since he'd left. Winter had arrived while he was out here. Thankfully it wasn't snowing yet, but the air had that sharp cold quality that warned of harsher weather to come.
Yang had kept getting deeper and deeper into the forest because the further he went, the more beasts with cores he found. He had around fifteen cores in his possession right now, and more than half of those had been obtained in just the last few days. The density of magical beasts increased dramatically the deeper into the forest he ventured.
He'd had a few close calls. Beasts that were faster than he expected, stronger than he could handle. But the allure of the beast cores kept drawing him in, kept pushing him to take just one more risk, and hunt just one more creature. He'd been bathing and drinking in the river daily and had plenty to eat. Actually, he'd had to leave behind many carcasses, which made him sad at the waste of good meat. He could have dried it in his cave, but he couldn't carry so much meat around with him. So he left the excess for other animals to scavenge.
Last night had been a particular low point. Yang had tried to hunt a beast that turned out to be much more aggressive than he'd anticipated. After his arrow struck it, the creature had become enraged and chased him through the forest. It wouldn't let go, furious at his attempt to kill it. Yang had to run until he found a tree tall enough to climb beyond the beast's reach.
But the damn thing had tried to knock down the tree by continuously slamming its body into the trunk. The impacts shook the branches and made Yang's perch increasingly unstable. When he'd had enough, Yang decided to risk angering it more by trying to finish the fight. He'd shot it full of arrows from his elevated position, then jumped down onto its head with his axe raised.
Thankfully the arrows had weakened it considerably. By the time Yang dropped on its head, axe first, the beast was struggling to stay upright. Yang had hacked at it with his axe until it finally stopped moving. By the time he'd extracted the beast core, Yang was far enough from the river that he didn't exactly remember the way back. In his rush to escape the murderous beast, he'd run in a rather haphazard manner, taking whatever path seemed safest in the moment.
Yang was pretty sure his inner instinct would guide him back to the river, but by then nightfall had arrived. So he'd found the safest place to sleep, which turned out to be an abandoned fox or rabbit hole with a rock he could position in front of its entrance.
Now Yang pushed the rock away from the entrance and crawled out into the morning light. He stretched his body carefully, working out the stiffness from sleeping curled up all night. The beast cores tucked in his clothes had kept digging into his body, leaving sore spots. Overall it had been a torturous sleep, and he definitely didn't want to repeat that experience. He much preferred caves or trees to sleep in when proper shelter wasn't available.
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But yesterday's experience had been enough to shock him into wanting to go back to his cave. He'd stayed two weeks in the forest, getting deeper and deeper, and this place was clearly beyond his current strength. He was frequently being urged by his inner instinct to change direction to avoid danger, sometimes multiple times within an hour.
He'd ignored many of those warnings in his greed for more beast cores. But what use did he have for them if he got himself killed?
Yang followed his inner instinct back to the river, which took a few hours of careful navigation through increasingly familiar terrain. When he reached the water's edge, he took a proper bath to wash off the dirt and blood from his fight and night in a hole in the ground. The water was freezing, but Yang scrubbed himself clean anyway. He also drank his fill, the cold water shocking his system awake.
After that, he began his journey back toward his cave.
A week into his journey home, Yang was almost halfway back to his original cave residence. He sat on a fallen log in the forest next to a fire he'd created to cook meat from a kill he'd made a couple hours ago. As he ate, he thought about his journey so far.
He'd also captured a few more beast cores by hunting along the way, unable to resist the opportunity when his instinct pointed him toward weaker creatures. He'd also accumulated a sizable collection of furs which would be helpful once he'd processed them properly. He could make new clothing, which he desperately needed. His two-week jaunt in a single pair of tunic and pants had destroyed his plant fiber and fur clothing into shreds that barely covered him anymore.
It was his third week away from his cave. So far he'd gathered twenty two crystals in total, an impressive haul that would have seemed impossible just a month ago. But the number he was finding had reduced considerably since leaving the deeper forest. The magical beasts were simply rarer in the outer regions. He still had a week's journey to reach home, maybe less if he pushed himself.
Yang finished eating and carefully cleaned up his cooking area, scattering the fire and covering the embers with dirt. Then he gathered his belongings and set off in search of shelter for the coming night.
He walked through the forest as the sun began its descent, scanning for suitable places to sleep. Eventually he found some rock formations that looked promising. After examining them carefully, he discovered a cave entrance partially hidden by hanging vines.
Yang poked his spear inside cautiously, probing to see if any animal or creature was residing there. He felt nothing, no resistance or sudden movement. Carefully, he entered.
The cave was small, barely larger than his current shelter. But it was too open, and there was nothing to close or hide the entrance with. No convenient rocks or logs to block access. Yang explored further and found a small cavern deeper inside the cave, a natural hollow he could crawl into. The entrance to this inner chamber was small enough that he wouldn't be completely exposed while sleeping.
He wasn't happy with the arrangement, but he'd slept in worse places during this venture. And he was too tired to search further or be more selective. His body ached from constant travel and fighting, and his mind was foggy with exhaustion.
Yang took his sack off his back and crawled into the small cavern with all his belongings. He lay down, his head pillowed on the sack. It had been hours since he'd properly rested. Through the cave entrance, he could see the light diminishing as the sun fell below the horizon, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples before fading to black.
Yang's eyes closed almost immediately, and sleep claimed him.
He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when he suddenly jolted awake. The same cold terror that his inner instinct had showed him in his initial days in the forest flooded through his body like ice water in his veins. His eyes flew open into complete darkness.
He saw nothing. Heard nothing. But Yang could feel with absolute certainty that he wasn't alone in the cave anymore.
Yang slowed his breathing and stopped moving, every muscle in his body locked rigid with fear. The terror radiated from his inner instinct with an intensity he'd rarely felt before, screaming at him that something dangerous was in the cave with him. Something that could kill him easily if it knew he was here.
Yang lay perfectly still in the darkness, his heart hammering so loud he feared whatever was out there could hear it. His hand wanted to reach for his knife or axe, but he didn't dare move. Didn't dare make even the smallest sound that might reveal his presence in the small cavern.
In the absolute blackness of the cave, Yang waited and listened, praying to whatever gods might exist that the thing out there wouldn't find him.
Yang held his breath, terrified beyond belief. He couldn't fight and couldn't run. He had no idea where he could go from here, with no escape route from this tiny space he'd crawled into.
Unlike every other time where the inner instinct had urged him in a direction that was the best course of action, Yang could feel it panicking now. It was running calculations, predicting each action he could take, and evaluating every possible outcome. But nothing looked good. Nothing offered a clear path to safety.
Yang suddenly had an awareness of more about how the inner instinct decided the best course of action. It was like seeing behind a curtain he hadn't known existed. The instinct was powerful, yes, but it clearly had its limitations. Otherwise it would have never let him stay in this cave in the first place. It couldn't predict everything, couldn't see all dangers before they arrived.
Yang forcefully calmed himself down, fighting against the panic rising in his chest. He even managed to get the inner instinct to quiet enough that he could think clearly instead of drowning in its frantic warnings.
He could still feel the instinct running through each option in the background, calculating probabilities and risks. But for now, Yang was able to think for himself.
He could feel that whatever beast was outside had figured out his position. It had no reason to be prowling directly in front of the place he was hiding otherwise. It knew he was in here. It was just trying to figure out how to get to him.
Yang couldn't see what it was in the complete darkness, but he knew it was far stronger than him. Otherwise he wouldn't have felt the inner instinct panicking like this. The instinct only reacted this strongly when something could kill him easily, when the danger was overwhelming and immediate.
Since the creature already knew he was here, his best option was to get further away from the entrance. Yang scooted backward deeper into the tiny cavern. There wasn't much space, barely enough room for his small body, but every inch of distance might matter.
Then he saw movement at the cavern's entrance. Something blocking the faint light from outside.
Yang could slightly make out the creature as it stuck its head inside the opening. It looked like a lizard, with a long thin tongue that kept flickering in and out. Yang felt the tongue touch his feet before he sharply drew them to his chest by bending his knees, making himself as small as possible.
He was really scared now. He couldn't see the color of the creature in the darkness, and couldn't tell how large it truly was. But he could see it trying to push its head further inside toward him. When that didn't work, it withdrew and tried using its clawed hand instead, reaching into the cavern and scraping at the stone floor, trying to hook him and drag him out.
Yang didn't know how long the lizard kept trying to get to him. Time lost all meaning in the darkness. He was terrified and exhausted, curled into the smallest ball possible with his back pressed against the rear wall of the tiny space. He held his legs so tightly to his body that he started losing feeling in them from the restricted blood flow.
Yang loosened his arms slightly around his legs and felt the sharp pinprick pain of blood flowing back into his limbs. The sensation was almost welcome after the numbness.
He thought the best strategy was to wait the lizard out. How long could it stay positioned in front of the cavern's entrance? It had to leave eventually for food or water or something. But Yang also wondered how long he could stay inside this tiny space. Forget about food and water, he couldn't even stretch his limbs out in here.
He sat there waiting. After what felt like hours, the lizard moved away from the entrance and Yang could see that dawn was approaching. He heard the sounds of the forest more clearly now, birds and insects waking to greet the new day. It would be only a few more minutes before there was proper light.
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Yang waited a few more hours until it was bright outside, sunlight streaming through the cave entrance. He considered trying to leave, hoping the lizard had given up and wandered off. But just as the thought formed, he felt his inner instinct warn sharply against it.
Apparently the creature was still there and waiting.
Yang waited and waited. He kept thinking of ways to escape, but each plan got discarded because the inner instinct kept warning against it.
It was almost night again, only an hour or so until sunset, and the lizard still had yet to leave. It was clear by now that the beast had decided to wait him out. And the problem was, the lizard was right in its strategy. Yang couldn't stay in here long term. He would keep growing weaker and weaker from dehydration and starvation.
It had already been a full day since he'd had water. His mouth was dry, and his throat scratchy. His stomach cramped with hunger, though that was less urgent than the thirst.
Yang also considered eating a beast core and trying to gain more power to defeat the lizard. But he knew he couldn't sit still during the agony that would follow. He would flail and thrash uncontrollably, and it would be much easier for the lizard to drag him out once he was within reach of the entrance, writhing in pain and unable to defend himself.
But what other choice did he have?
Get out now and fight to survive with his current strength, knowing he was far weaker than the creature waiting outside. Or try to wait it out, hoping the lizard would leave soon before Yang was too dehydrated and starved to even walk, then pray that if he managed to escape, nothing else came along to harm him in his weakened state. Or eat beast cores now and take a chance at becoming stronger, with the risk of the lizard managing to capture him once he was out of his mind with agony.
All three choices had significant danger attached. All three could easily result in his death. But ultimately, Yang felt eating the beast cores had the least risk and the most likely chance of survival. He felt the inner instinct reluctantly agree with his assessment, though it radiated worry and uncertainty.
Yang was scared. But he'd decided to walk this path of danger after eating the first beast core. He'd known a day like this would come eventually. He'd just hoped it wouldn't be so soon, before he'd grown strong enough to handle such threats.
Yang took his rope and began tying himself up. He secured his legs together tightly, then bound his torso, leaving only one arm free. He needed to keep his limbs away from the entrance so the lizard couldn't grab him during his thrashing. He also tied himself to a large rock protruding from the cavern floor, making a secure anchor point to ensure he didn't accidentally get close to the entrance while out of his mind with pain.
Yang placed several beast cores on the floor near his loose hand. He'd gathered many cores during his journey. He didn't know how many to take. One had been agony. What would multiple do?
But he needed the strength if he was going to survive what waited outside.
Once Yang was as satisfied as possible with his preparations, he took a handful of cores. Six of them, their colors varying from pinkish orange to deep red to pale blue. He looked at them in his palm for a long moment, knowing what was coming.
Then he put them all in his mouth at once and swallowed.
It was painful swallowing so many at once, like trying to swallow broken glass. The cores scraped down his throat, sharp edges catching on his esophagus. At least that pain didn't last long before he was engulfed in the familiar burning agony.
But this was worse. So much worse than one core. This was six cores dissolving in his stomach simultaneously, six sources of liquid fire spreading through his veins at once.
Yang's body convulsed violently. His back arched against the ropes binding him. His free arm flailed wildly, scraping against the stone walls. A scream tore from his throat, raw and animal, echoing through the small cavern and out into the main cave.
The ropes held. Barely. Yang thrashed against them with strength he didn't know he possessed, the cords digging into his flesh and drawing blood. But they kept him anchored to the rock, kept him from being dragged toward the entrance where death waited.
The burning was everywhere. In his bones, his blood, in every cell of his body. It felt like he was being unmade and remade simultaneously, torn apart and rebuilt with each agonizing heartbeat.
Yang could feel the lizard at the entrance, could sense it getting excited by his screams. It reached into the cavern again, claws scraping across stone, trying to hook him and pull him out. But the ropes held. The distance was just barely too far.
The pain intensified impossibly. He couldn't think, couldn't do anything but endure the torture consuming him from within.
Thankfully, mercifully, relief came in the form of unconsciousness. Yang's thrashing slowed, then stopped. His body went limp against the ropes. His head fell forward onto his chest.
Yang woke suddenly, jolted awake by his inner instinct. Light peeking into the cavern, pale dawn illuminating the small space. He tried to stretch out as consciousness returned, then suddenly realized he was still tied up except for one arm.
The memory crashed back. The lizard beast outside the small cavern, trying to claw him out so it could kill or eat him. The terror of being trapped with no escape. The lizard refusing to leave, denying him any chance to sneak or run away. His desperate decision to eat six beast cores at once, gambling everything on the possibility of gaining enough strength to survive.
Yang fumbled with the ropes binding him, having difficulty because the knots had tightened during his thrashing in agony. But despite the awkward position, his body felt surprisingly relaxed and without strain. The ropes had done their job, keeping him anchored and safe while the cores transformed him.
He tried to hurry with the knots since he couldn't feel any warning from the inner instinct. That likely meant either the beast had already left, or it was no longer a danger to him because of his strength increase.
Yang would prefer to sneak away rather than confront any powerful magical beast directly. In his hurry to free himself, he pulled too hard and the rope suddenly snapped with a sharp crack that echoed through the small space.
The broken rope dangled from his hands, frayed ends swaying. He'd worked very hard to collect materials and weave this rope. But it was also definite proof of his increased strength. He'd just snapped thick rope like it was thread.
He crawled out of the cavern into the main cave. Thankfully the sun was already up, morning light streaming through the entrance. He finally managed to stretch out all his limbs properly after who knows how many days cramped in that tiny space.
Spear in hand, he moved towards the cave exit. He was only a few steps away from freedom when he suddenly felt an urgent pull from his inner instinct. Run. Now.
Yang's legs pumped, enhanced muscles carrying him faster than before. A glance back sent his stomach plummeting. The lizard followed, running after him with terrifying speed.
It was longer and bigger than Yang had expected from the brief glimpses in the darkness. The creature had a long protruding jaw like an alligator but without all the teeth, just that long flickering tongue. Its body was a mixture of green, gray, and brown with a reptilian skin texture that seemed to shift colors as it moved.
Yang plunged through the bushes, hoping the dense forest would slow the creature down. The damn animal crashed through most branches and bushes without feeling pain, plowing through obstacles that would have stopped Yang completely.
The inner instinct kept guiding him to turn and twist. The lizard gained ground. Much faster than Yang despite his enhanced speed. Almost at his back, Yang thrust his spear backward.
The tip of the spear slid off the lizard's skin like it was stone. The weapon that had pierced through other beasts couldn't even scratch this creature's hide.
Yang's breath came in short gasps. His hands trembled, gripping the spear tighter. The lizard got close and lashed out, Its tail a blur, as fire exploded across his ribs.. It hurt like being slapped by a stone wall, the impact lifting him off his feet and throwing him into a nearby tree trunk.
Yang hit the tree hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs, but adrenaline kept him moving. He scrambled up and tried to climb the tree to get out of reach. But the damn beast clamped its jaw on his leg and started shaking and dragging him back down.
Thankfully it looked like the creature's teeth weren't too sharp, or else with its strength the bite would have severed his leg entirely. As it was, Yang could feel the pressure crushing his calf, bruising deep into the muscle.
Yang tried to stab near its mouth with his spear, hoping to hit a vulnerable spot. But the attack only pissed the lizard off. It wrenched him off the tree completely and slammed him to the ground with bone-jarring force.
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The creature tried to bring its mouth to Yang's neck, going for a killing bite. Yang grappled with it desperately, his hands trying to hold its jaws away from his throat. The lizard was still stronger than him despite the cores he'd consumed, with more endurance and mass.
Yang was losing strength, his arms beginning to shake from the effort of keeping those jaws away. Suddenly the lizard backed off and came at him again, trying to bite his face. It wrenched its head out of Yang's grasp to get a better angle.
The moment it backed away to remove its jaw from Yang's hands provided precious seconds. Yang grabbed the stone knife at his waist and pulled it free. As the lizard came close again, going for his throat, Yang didn't try to stop it or push it away.
Instead, he used all his strength and concentration to stab it in the eye.
The knife sank deep. The lizard's eye burst with a wet pop, fluid spraying across Yang's face and chest. The creature let out a wretched cry unlike anything Yang had heard before, a sound of pure agony that echoed through the forest.
The lizard twisted away from Yang, trying to dislodge the knife embedded in its eye socket. It rubbed its head against a tree trunk, but that just drove the knife in further and deeper. Yang watched as the blade slid all the way in until it looked like it had penetrated the lizard's brain.
The creature suddenly stopped moving. Its body went rigid, then collapsed sideways onto the forest floor with a heavy thud that shook the ground.
The lizard wasn't moving, but Yang still carefully picked up his spear from where he'd dropped it during the struggle. He poked the lizard's body with the spear point, testing for any reaction. Nothing. The creature was truly dead.
Yang went closer and grabbed the handle of his knife, wrenching it out of the ruined eye socket with a sickening sucking sound. He tried to slit the lizard's throat to be absolutely certain it was dead, but the skin was still strong enough to withstand his knife's edge. The blade couldn't penetrate that armored hide.
Yang grabbed hold of the lizard's tail and started dragging its carcass back toward the cave where this thing had terrified him. It was heavy, far heavier than anything else he'd killed before, but his enhanced strength allowed him to move it.
He got the body inside the cave and drew it to a corner away from the entrance. Yang looked at the dead lizard and realized this was the strongest animal he'd ever killed. There was no way he was leaving without its beast core.
Yang took his knife and tried cutting into the creature's hide from the outside. Nothing worked. The skin was like stone, resisting every attempt to pierce or slice it. Finally, Yang tried putting the knife inside the mouth, attempting to cut the beast from the inside out.
He found it was easier to cut from the interior. The flesh inside the mouth gave way to his blade. Yang separated the jaw joints and found he could dislocate them and break the bones with his enhanced strength. But even then, he was unable to separate the skin from the outside.
Yang tried going through the eye socket where he'd stabbed it, attempting to reach the brain and find the core. He scraped and dug, pulling out brain matter and flesh and bone fragments. It took hours. Night fell while he worked, the cave growing dark around him.
Yang had to take a break to light a fire because he refused to give up on the beast core. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the cave walls while he continued his grisly work.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of digging through the creature's skull, Yang managed to extract the core. It was light blue in color, larger and more intensely glowing than any beast core he'd hunted before. The crystal was almost the size of his thumb, pulsing with inner light.
In his hunting trips over the past weeks, Yang had realized that the more dangerous the animal, the larger or more intense its beast core. But he mused that it was inevitable that the beast which had almost killed him would have the strongest core he'd encountered yet.
Yang carefully cleaned the core and placed it with the remaining crystals he carried. Then he crawled back into the small cavern to sleep. It had been hours since nightfall, and he'd spent all that time extracting the beast core from the lizard's skull.
Yang lay down in the cramped space, exhausted beyond measure. His body ached from the fight and the hours of work. His leg throbbed where the lizard had bitten him, and his side hurt where its tail had struck him.
He held the light blue beast core in his hand, feeling its warmth against his palm.
Yang closed his eyes, wondering how this core would affect him when he eventually consumed it. Would it be worse than the six he'd taken at once? Or would his body have adapted, making the process easier?
He didn't know. But that was a problem for tomorrow. For now, Yang just needed to rest and let his battered body recover.
Sleep claimed him quickly, his fingers still wrapped around the blue crystal.
Yang ran fast through the forest. Dodging low branches with practiced ease. His feet found purchase on roots and stones without conscious thought. His body moved through the dense forest like water flowing downhill.
He thought back to the past years. When he'd entered the forest that terrible night Grandpa Chen died, he never imagined he'd still be here. Never thought he'd become what he was now.
Yang remembered the first fight with the lizard-like beast. The most dangerous beast he'd faced at the time. He could still recall the blood-curdling terror he'd felt in that moment. Now he regularly hunted creatures far stronger. That lizard would be easy prey today.
Beast cores had become routine. After that first lizard, Yang had lost all track of time in the forest. His days blurred together in an endless cycle of hunting magical beasts and consuming their cores.
The first few dozen times, the agony had knocked him unconscious. He'd faint and wake days later with no idea how much time had passed. The repeated blackouts destroyed any sense of calendar or season until he completely gave up on keeping time.
His body grew stronger with each core consumed. Eventually, temperature stopped being a reliable measure either. Winter's bite no longer reached him through his enhanced flesh. Summer's heat barely registered.
Yang had accumulated so many cores that even the best ones he found now barely affected him. The increases were negligible. Too small to feel. That also meant he no longer fell unconscious in agony when consuming them. His body had adapted. Grown accustomed to the transformation.
After killing the lizard, Yang had spent days traveling back to his cave by the river. He'd eaten the blue core there. Prepared for the pain. The agony came as expected. But when he woke, he was considerably more powerful. Strong enough that the forest's dangers became challenges instead of death sentences.
His life became hunting and eating beast cores. Using the flesh, tendons, bones, and furs to make clothes and weapons. He'd gone through many weapons over the years. Each one breaking or wearing out until he crafted something better.
Now Yang was an expert with spear and bow. He could shoot while running and hit targets without breaking stride.
The quality of his weapons had increased dramatically. His current bow he'd been using for some time. His spear for about twice that. Both were refined enough to survive fights with magical beasts without shattering or bending beyond repair.
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Yang only returned to the shelter to sleep or rest. Otherwise, his time was spent hunting and traveling. He'd found different edges to the forest over the years. North, south, east, west. He'd mapped the entire territory in his mind through constant exploration.
Only once had he encountered people from his old village.
Yang had hidden before they could spot him. But he'd watched them from concealment. A hunting party. Five men with crude spears, nets, and farm tools. All Yang could do was stare in wonder. So long since he'd seen another human. Heard human voices speaking words instead of animal cries.
Yang had followed them secretly for days. At first, their language sounded foreign. The words were meaningless sounds. But gradually comprehension returned. It was the same language he'd spoken with Grandpa. Hearing it again almost brought tears to his eyes.
At night, while the hunting party slept, Yang kept his distance and practiced speaking. Whispering words to himself in the darkness. Testing his tongue and throat. Making sounds he hadn't made in years. It took days after the hunters left for him to sound remotely like they had.
The realization terrified him. If he'd waited longer, maybe he would have lost his ability to understand spoken language entirely. Maybe he would have become more beast than man.
Yang's decision crystallized during those days of following and listening.
His ability to increase strength had ended in the forest. The beast cores no longer worked. Nothing left here to help him grow stronger. He needed to find a way to improve further. To understand this magic or cultivation or whatever power flowed through this world.
Yang was unnaturally strong now. Fast and durable beyond any normal human. But he'd found no magical abilities in himself. No qi like the web novels from his previous life had described. Just enhanced physical capabilities.
Yang needed knowledge. Training. Understanding of how cultivation actually worked instead of blindly consuming cores and hoping for the best.
He planned to return to the village.
Revenge had been out of the question when he was weaker. Yang would never have wasted the life that survived at the cost of Grandpa's sacrifice just to die attempting vengeance. But now he was strong enough.
Strong enough to destroy those who'd had a hand in killing Grandpa Chen.
He would make them pay. Liu Wei and the Zhao brothers who'd helped him. Then Yang would leave this area entirely. Search for a larger human civilization beyond the isolated village.
Find cities or towns where cultivators actually lived and trained. Where he could learn a proper path forward instead of stumbling through the dark.
Yang's hands tightened on his spear as he ran. Grandpa's gentle smile flashed through his memory. Followed immediately by the image of Liu Wei's knife and Grandpa falling. The thud of his body hitting the floor.
Soon, Yang thought.
Soon he would avenge the man who'd given everything to keep one orphaned child alive.
Then he would find his path in this world of magic and monsters and make Grandpa proud. Wherever that path might lead.
Yang had been sneaking around the edge of the forest near the village. He'd observed for days now, taking careful note of Liu Wei and the Zhao brothers' locations and routines.
His plan was simple: kill them before getting out of the village, making sure no one got a look at him.
He'd also realized something during his surveillance. His fur and plant fiber clothing made him look like a wild man. Which he was, but he needed actual clothes and shoes to fit in wherever he ended up going. Looking like this would only make things difficult in any human town or city.
The villagers were extremely poor. Yang would feel bad stealing from anyone here. But killing and stealing from Grandpa's murderers? He wouldn't feel bad at all.
He took no joy or pride in being here to kill these men. But it felt like something he must do. They'd killed a great man. More importantly, a good man. All because he'd dared to help strangers instead of allowing them to take advantage.
Yang recognized the mud hut. The one where he was born. Where Grandpa had lived for decades before Yang arrived. Where Grandpa had spent eight years protecting him, loving him, caring for him.
It had been his home. His safe place. And they'd destroyed it.
Liu Wei lived in a wooden house. But the mud hut was occupied by one of the Zhao brothers. Apparently leaving it empty would have been wasteful. After killing the owner, they'd decided to take over.
This, more than anything, made Yang furious. Seeing one of the conspirators who'd aided Grandpa's killer living in the walls where Grandpa had stayed. Grandpa had created this hut with his own two hands. Yang would rather see it razed to the ground than let one of these scum occupy it.
The past few days had given him enough understanding of their routines. He was confident in killing them and getting away without anyone finding out about him. Better if they didn't see him. The superstitious villagers would be terrified otherwise.
As the sun set and night came, Yang snuck toward his and Grandpa's hut. Currently occupied by one of the Zhao brothers. He knew the other would come with drinks soon to spend the night drinking together.
Yang waited for both to be inside before starting.
He felt anticipation mixed with a queasy feeling. He'd never done something like this. Planning to take a life for the first time. Yang was nervous and conflicted. But he was determined to finish this.
He saw the older Zhao brother leaving his own home and coming toward the hut and entering. Yang decided to wait until they were more drunk before he moved.
Lost in thought, memories of Grandpa overwhelmed him. That corner where he used to play while Grandpa watched from his seat on a stone. The nearby well where they'd gotten water. The bushes near the edge of the forest where he'd often picked berries with Grandpa.
Every path was somehow associated with Grandpa. Each thing reminding him of happier times.
This was his personal hell and heaven. Good memories overwhelming him while the grief of knowing that time was gone forever crushed down. No weathered hands to pull him up if he fell. No weak eyes keeping watch to make sure he was safe.
His emotions were unstable. The happiness of good memories. The sadness of loss. The anger at seeing his killers living in their home and living well. The uncertainty of taking a life.
It created a maelstrom inside him.
Yang stood. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Thinking of Grandpa's smile. His love and care. Then his death as he'd told Yang to run. The thud of his body.
"Forgive me, Grandpa, for what I'm about to do," Yang said to himself. "But they must pay for what they did to you and me. And if not that, at least it ensures they won't be able to harm anyone else again."
Yang ran quickly toward the mud hut. He peeked through the straw door and saw both Zhao brothers sitting on the ground drinking wine. Several empty pots already lay around them. Their faces were flushed. Their movements uncoordinated. Their voices loud and slurred as they laughed about something.
Yang took a slow breath. This was it.
He pushed through the straw door and entered quietly. His enhanced senses picked up the smell of cheap wine and unwashed bodies. The younger brother was closer to the door. The older one sat further back against the wall.
"Who... who are you?" the older brother asked, squinting in Yang's direction. His words came slow and thick. It took moments for them to notice him properly in their drunken state.
Yang didn't bother speaking. He moved forward with speed that neither drunk man could track. His hand shot out and seized the younger brother by the neck. The man's eyes widened in shock and fear. His mouth opened to scream.
Yang twisted. Hard and fast.
The snap was loud in the small space. Like a branch breaking. Yang felt the bones give way beneath his fingers. Felt the exact moment life left the body.
He released his grip. The younger Zhao brother crumpled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. His head lolled at an unnatural angle. Eyes still open. Still shocked.
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Yang stared at the body. His first deliberate kill of a human. The corpse looked smaller somehow. Less threatening than the man who'd helped murder Grandpa.
"What... what did..." The older brother tried to stand. His legs wouldn't cooperate. He fell back against the wall, staring at his brother's body. "No. No, that's not..."
Reality slowly penetrated his drunken haze. Yang watched the exact moment understanding hit. The older Zhao brother's face went from confusion to horror to rage in quick succession.
"You killed him!" The older brother's voice cracked with fury and grief. "You killed my brother!"
He lunged forward. Tried to grab Yang. His movements were clumsy. Uncoordinated. Yang sidestepped easily.
The older brother stumbled past him and fell to his knees beside the corpse. He grabbed his brother's shoulders and shook them. "Wake up! Wake up!"
The body flopped limply. Head rolling on the broken neck.
"No, no, no..." The older brother's voice dissolved into sobs. He looked up at Yang with tears streaming down his face. "Why? What did we do? We never..."
"You know what you did," Yang said quietly.
The older brother's face twisted. Recognition dawned. "You're... you're that brat. Chen's brat. But you're supposed to be dead. You should have died years ago."
"I didn't."
The older brother tried to stand again. This time he managed it, though he swayed dangerously. "We didn't kill the old man. That was Liu Wei. We just... we just helped him dispose of..."
"You helped," Yang interrupted. "That's enough."
The older brother's face contorted with rage. He grabbed an empty wine pot and hurled it at Yang. Yang caught it easily and crushed it in his hand. The ceramic shattered. Pieces fell to the floor.
The older brother stared at Yang's hand. At the impossible strength. Fear replaced his anger.
"Please," he whispered. "Please, I have a family. Children. A wife. They need me."
Yang thought of Grandpa. Of the eight years of love and care. Of the sacrifice made so Yang could live.
"Grandpa had a family too," Yang said. "Me."
He moved forward. The older brother tried to run. Yang was faster. His hand found the man's neck. The older brother struggled. Clawed at Yang's arm. His nails dug in his arm but couldn't make Yang release his grip.
Yang twisted.
Another snap.
The second body fell beside the first.
Yang stood there for a long moment. Looking at both corpses. Brothers who'd died together in the home they'd stolen. His hands were steady. His breathing calm. But his chest felt hollow.
He'd done it. Killed two men. It should have felt like justice. Like righteousness.
Instead he just felt empty.
Yang shook himself from his thoughts. No time to dwell. He needed to move.
He ransacked the room quickly and efficiently. Taking any clothes that looked useful. He found several sets of rough cotton shirts and trousers. Not quality, but better than his current attire. He also found a large dagger with a worn leather sheath and a pair of shoes that looked about his size.
The village was poor and used a barter system with no currency, so there was nothing precious in terms of money or jewels.
Then Yang found the blanket Grandpa had made. The one they'd used to sleep under during cold nights. It sat in a corner with scraps and spare things. Threadbare and old. Ignored.
Yang hugged it to his chest. The fabric was rough against his skin. It smelled of dust and neglect now. But he remembered how it had smelled when Grandpa was alive. Like herbs and woodsmoke and safety.
Tears pricked his eyes. Yang blinked them back.
He took everything useful and portable. Bundled it all together and carried it to the forest. He hid it where he'd been spending nights near the edge while keeping watch on the village.
When he returned to the hut, the bodies were still there. Still dead. Yang looked at them one last time.
"I'm sorry your families will grieve," Yang said quietly to the corpses. "But you made your choice when you helped kill Grandpa."
He didn't touch the bodies. He intended to leave them here and destroy the mud house.
Yang made a torch from dried grass and wood. He lit it using friction. Then he touched the flame to the thatched roof. The dry straw caught immediately. Fire spread quickly across the roof and down the walls.
Yang retreated to the forest edge. Hiding behind trees, he watched the panic begin in the village.
"Fire!" someone screamed. "Fire at the old Chen place!"
People rushed out of their homes. Some brought pots of water from the well. They formed a line, passing containers hand to hand in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames.
Yang felt a pang of guilt. Most villagers were just people trying to survive. Not evil. They didn't deserve the disruption and fear he'd brought.
But it was necessary.
Liu Wei came out to look. He was accompanied by his three sons. All of them older than Yang had been when he'd fled. The sons were grown men now. Strong. Capable of supporting their mother and sisters.
Yang watched them join in helping fight the fire. At least killing Liu Wei wouldn't destroy his family. The sons could provide. The wife and daughters wouldn't starve.
That thought brought Yang a small measure of comfort.
The villagers worked together. After considerable effort, the fire was finally controlled and put out. The mud walls had mostly survived, but the roof was completely gone. The interior was charred and smoking.
Men entered to search for survivors or salvage. Moments later, shouts erupted.
"Bodies! There are bodies inside!"
"It's the Zhao brothers!"
"They're dead! Both of them!"
Wailing began. High and piercing. The Zhao family rushed forward. Women screamed and sobbed. Children cried. The older brother's wife collapsed to her knees, pulling at her hair.
Yang heard the gut-wrenching sobs echo through the night. Each cry felt like a knife in his chest. He wondered if he'd sounded like that when he'd sobbed himself to sleep in the forest years ago. Alone and grieving.
The pain he'd caused tonight would ripple through families. Through the whole small village.
But Yang forced himself to watch. To witness what his actions had wrought. He wouldn't look away from the consequences of his choices.
The crowd gathered around the burned hut. Speculating about what happened. Some suggested accident. Others murder. Arguments broke out.
Yang waited. Patient. Watching one man in particular.
Liu Wei stood at the edge of the crowd. His expression was troubled. Worried. He spoke quietly to his eldest son, who nodded and headed back toward their home.
Good. The son was leaving. Yang needed Liu Wei alone.
Remove
As the hours went by the crowd slowly dispersed. The Zhao family carried the bodies away for preparation and burial. Others returned to their homes, still talking in hushed, frightened voices about the deaths and the fire.
Liu Wei lingered. He spoke to a few villagers. Offered condolences to the Zhao family. Played the part of concerned neighbor.
Finally, he started walking back toward his home. Alone.
Yang waited until Liu Wei was far enough from the gathered villagers. Far enough that no one would hear or see.
Then Yang moved.
His enhanced speed made him a blur in the darkness. He closed the distance in seconds. His hand clamped over Liu Wei's mouth to prevent screaming. His other arm wrapped around the man's body and lifted him effortlessly.
Yang ran into the forest. Liu Wei struggled and kicked, but it was like an infant fighting an adult. Completely ineffective against Yang's supernatural strength.
Yang went deep. Far beyond where sounds would carry to the village. Past the familiar paths into the true wilderness where only beasts dwelled.
Finally, Yang stopped in a small clearing lit by moonlight filtering through the canopy. He released Liu Wei and stepped back.
Liu Wei stumbled and fell to his knees. He gasped for air. Looked around wildly. When his eyes adjusted to the moonlight and he saw where he was, panic set in.
"Please!" Liu Wei's voice came out as a desperate rasp. "I have money! Not much, but I'll give you everything! Just let me go!"
Yang said nothing. He simply stood there. Watching.
Liu Wei scrambled to his feet. He tried to run. Yang moved faster and grabbed his shoulder. The grip was like iron. Inescapable. Yang pulled Liu Wei back to the center of the clearing.
"Please! I don't even know you! What do you want?"
"Hello, Uncle Liu Wei," Yang said softly.
Liu Wei froze. He stared at Yang's face in the moonlight. Squinting. Trying to see features obscured by years of growth and forest living.
"Who... who are you? How do you know my name?"
Yang stepped closer. Let the moonlight fall fully on his face.
"I'm Yang," he said in a voice that was almost childish. Almost innocent. "Don't you recognize me, Uncle?"
The color drained from Liu Wei's face. His mouth opened and closed. No sound came out.
"Yang?" he finally whispered. "No. No, it's impossible. You should have died."
"But I didn't."
"How..." Liu Wei's voice shook. "How can you survive? It's been more than four years. How can a child survive alone in this forest?"
Yang tilted his head. "Grandpa taught me many things before you killed him. How to find food. How to make shelter. How to survive, even alone."
"I... I didn't..." Liu Wei backed away. "It wasn't my idea. Zhao Lei, it was him. Don't kill me we just thought..."
"You thought you'd kill him for helping those merchant. He had already helped them pass the mountain, killing him brought you no advantage, you just killed him because you could, because you were angry," Yang finished.
Liu Wei's face crumpled. "It was supposed to be quick! Chen was old. We thought... we thought it would be fast. Painless. We didn't mean for him to suffer."
"Didn't mean for him to suffer?" Yang's voice rose. "You stabbed Grandpa in the gut and left him to bleed out on the floor while I ran for my life!"
"I'm sorry!" Liu Wei fell to his knees. Tears streamed down his face. "I'm so sorry! We were desperate. The village has nothing. My family was starving. We could have gotten things off those merchants in exchange for showing them the path. I just... I just wanted to feed my children."
Yang stared at him. This pathetic man sobbing in the dirt. This was Grandpa's killer. The monster who'd haunted Yang's nightmares for years.
He looked small. Weak. Human.
"How did killing Grandpa feed your children?"
Liu Wei just sobbed.
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"Your family will be fine," Yang said quietly. "Your sons are grown. They can provide."
"What?" Liu Wei looked up, confusion mixing with his fear.
"I watched them tonight. Helping fight the fire. They're strong. Capable. Your wife and daughters won't starve without you."
Understanding dawned in Liu Wei's eyes. "No. No, please. Yang, I'm sorry! I'll do anything! I'll make it right somehow! Please, I have grandchildren now. Please!"
"How can you make it right?" Yang asked. "Can you bring Grandpa back? Can you take back the years I survived alone in the forest?"
"I... I can't, but..."
"Then there's nothing left to discuss."
Liu Wei lunged forward. Grabbed Yang's legs. "Please! I made a mistake! One mistake! Don't kill me for one mistake! I'm not a bad man!"
"You killed a good man for no reason," Yang said. "That does make you bad enough."
"He was just an old forest hermit! One old man versus my entire family's survival! What would you have done?"
"Grandpa's death brought you nothing," Yang said. "He didn't take anything in payment to help those merchants, there is nothing his death would have brought you. Grandpa had nothing, He took me in when I had nothing. Raised me like his own. You knew that about him. Everyone in the village knew how kind and generous he was."
"Please you have to understand!" Liu Wei's voice became desperate, pleading. "You understand what it's like to be desperate! To need help! That's how I felt! Desperate!"
"There's a difference," Yang said coldly. "Grandpa's desperation made him help others. Yours made you kill."
"I'll leave the village!" Liu Wei cried. "I'll go far away! You'll never see me again! Just please, let me live!"
Yang pulled his spear from his back. The weapon he'd crafted over years of survival. Refined and balanced. Sharp enough to pierce beast hide.
Liu Wei saw the spear and scrambled backward. "No! No! Yang, please!"
"I'll give you something Grandpa didn't get," Yang said. "A choice. Stand and face me, or run and I'll hunt you like the beast you are."
"I'll fight! I'll fight!" Liu Wei pulled a knife from his belt. The same knife he'd used to kill Grandpa. His hands shook so badly the blade wavered in the moonlight.
Yang lowered his spear slightly. Giving Liu Wei an opening.
The older man saw it and lunged forward with a desperate cry. His knife thrust toward Yang's chest.
Yang moved. Not to dodge. He stepped into the attack. His spear came up in a smooth arc. The blade caught Liu Wei in the stomach. He felt as it pierced his bellyand heard the horrible squelching of flesh and the gushing wet blood.
The knife fell from Liu Wei's hand. He stared down at the spear protruding from his belly in shock. His hands grabbed the shaft weakly.
Yang wrenched the spear free. Blood poured from the wound. Liu Wei collapsed to his knees. Then fell sideways to the ground.
Yang stepped back and watched. Liu Wei's hands pressed against his stomach, trying futilely to stop the bleeding. Blood seeped between his fingers. Dark in the moonlight.
"Please," Liu Wei gasped. "Please, help me. I don't want to die."
"Neither did Grandpa," Yang said coldly.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Liu Wei's voice grew weaker. "Tell my family... tell them I'm sorry."
"I won't be telling them anything. They'll never know I was here."
Liu Wei coughed. Blood flecked his lips. "Yang... please... I'm begging you..."
"I wonder how long it took Grandpa to die," Yang said in a voice that sounded distant to his own ears. "He was old. But bleeding to death is a slow death. Did you stay to watch? Or did you leave him to die alone?"
"We left, we ran after you" Liu Wei whispered. "We were scared. We didn't mean... we thought it would be quick..."
"I don't know how long was it for Grandpa, but it definitely won't be quick for you."
Yang stood there and watched as Liu Wei bled out. The man kept begging. Kept apologizing. His voice grew weaker with each word. Each breath more labored than the last.
Yang watched without expression. Without satisfaction. Without mercy.
Finally, Liu Wei stopped moving. Stopped breathing. His eyes stared sightlessly at the forest canopy above.
Yang stood there for a long time after. Just staring at the corpse.
He'd done it. Killed Grandpa's murderer. The revenge he'd promised himself years ago in a cave by a river.
But Yang felt nothing. No satisfaction. No peace. No closure.
Just empty.
"Forgive me, Grandpa," Yang whispered to the night. "I've become the kind of person you never wanted me to be."
The forest was silent. No answer came.
Yang cleaned his spear on Liu Wei's clothes. Then he turned and walked away. Leaving the body for the beasts to find. Let them dispose of the evidence.
He made his way back through the dark forest toward his temporary shelter. The small cave where he'd stored the supplies taken from the Zhao brothers.
As Yang walked, his mind churned. He didn't feel happy. Didn't feel satisfied. Revenge had brought him no peace.
But while it brought no joy or satisfaction, he also wasn't sad or disappointed in himself for killing them. It was what it was. Done.
Yang did feel a pang that his actions caused others to grieve for the people he'd killed. The Zhao wives and children. Liu Wei's family. All of them would suffer because of what he'd done tonight.
That was unfortunate. But Yang was at peace with the decision he'd made and the actions he'd taken.
Real life is different than a novel, Yang thought. Killing someone in cold blood is never easy. Even when they deserve it.
He reached his temporary shelter and lay down on the floor. Yang twisted and turned but sleep wouldn't come. He tried anyway. Closed his eyes. He was leaving tomorrow. He needed rest.
Images played behind his eyelids. The Zhao brothers' shocked faces. Liu Wei bleeding out in the forest. The wailing of their families.
And underneath it all, Grandpa's gentle smile. The memory that had sustained Yang through four years of hell.
Was this what you would have wanted? Yang asked the memory. Would you be proud of what I've become?
The gentle smile gave no answer.
Yang didn't know when he finally fell asleep. Still lost in thought. Still wondering if revenge had been worth the price of the man he'd had to become to achieve it