This dung heap had clearly existed for a very long time. The manure in the center had already lost all its moisture, turning into granules much like rubble and sand, with barely any odor left. If it were scattered on the road, no one would recognize it as manure.
With only his head exposed, Qin Tian crouched right in the middle of the dung heap. Though it wasn’t as disgusting as he’d imagined, over time, his limbs gradually began to go numb.
By now, the sky was completely dark. If earlier Qin Tian could see things three meters away, now, even if a Wild Boar came right up to him, he wouldn’t be able to see it.
Afraid that any big movement might attract the attention of the Wild Boars, Qin Tian only dared to wiggle his fingers and toes to ease the numb pain in his limbs.
Apart from not being able to move, Qin Tian only felt the dung heap getting hotter and hotter inside. This was due to microorganisms breaking down the nutrients in the manure.
One had to know, during decomposition, a large amount of carbon dioxide would be released. If this carbon dioxide couldn’t be expelled in time, it would build up in the heap, trapping the heat emitted by Qin Tian’s body so it couldn’t escape, making him feel increasingly hot.
Under this heat, Qin Tian broke out in a sweat, losing a large amount of water from his body. On top of that, his sweat-soaked clothes clung tightly to his skin, sticky and unbearably uncomfortable.
It was just like having a high fever in summer—needing to sweat it out under a thick blanket to get better.
The difference was, with a fever, one could always lift the blanket for relief if it became unbearable, but Qin Tian’s current situation allowed no such luxury; he could only endure it.
In this way, after half an hour, Qin Tian finally started to feel a bit better.
His limbs were completely numb, as if they no longer existed, so he no longer had to grit his teeth and endure so much. Moreover, once night fell, the temperature dropped, perfectly offsetting the heat from the dung heap. Qin Tian no longer felt so stuffy and miserable.
Even though he knew he couldn’t see anything, Qin Tian still tried to look for something visible.
Wrapped in complete darkness, Qin Tian felt as if he had been tossed into chaos itself, not knowing up from down, east from west. In this world, he was utterly alone.
In such circumstances, even the occasional grunting sounds from the Wild Boars became comforting to Qin Tian’s ears.
After all, humans are social animals. In this silent night, with loneliness infinitely magnified, one really does need company—be it from people or animals, it didn’t matter anymore.
***
With no moon visible, he couldn’t estimate the time. Who knew how long had passed before Qin Tian gradually adapted to the situation and began thinking of ways to leave.
“If nothing unexpected happens, these Wild Boars won’t leave before dawn. In other words, I’ll have to stay in this dung heap for the entire night.”
“Fortunately, my scent is completely masked by the dung heap, so I don’t have to worry about being discovered by the Wild Boars. I can rest easy for the night.”
“And, since this is the Wild Boars’ territory, I don’t have to worry about being attacked by other beasts. In a sense, this could be considered a relatively safe place.”
“After a good night’s rest, I’ll have completely recovered my strength, and then I can use my Talent to leave this place.”
“The only thing to worry about is that Titanoboa.”
“Snakes have three activity patterns: diurnal, nocturnal, and crepuscular. Judging by the time I encountered the Titanoboa, it’s possible that it’s either diurnal or crepuscular.”
“So, to lower my chances of running into the Titanoboa, I should escape at dawn, just before the sun fully rises.”
“But the Titanoboa could also be active at all hours. After all, it’s an ancient creature, so there may be differences from modern snakes…”
In order to ensure his survival and safe escape, countless possibilities for departure times and methods evolved in Qin Tian’s mind, considering all kinds of crises he might face and how to deal with them.
Lost in thought, Qin Tian became utterly absorbed in his own world until the Wild Boar herd suddenly grew restless and agitated, pulling him back to reality.
“Humph! Humph, humph!”
***
With no warning at all, the sleeping Wild Boars suddenly woke up. Although everything was pitch black, from the chaotic footsteps, Qin Tian could tell the herd’s state.
“Could it be the Titanoboa!? Or some other beast?” Qin Tian’s first reaction was that the Wild Boar herd had sensed some kind of danger.
Caught up in the tense atmosphere, Qin Tian’s nerves grew taut. He shut his eyes, sharpening his hearing to see if he could pick up anything.
“Qin Tian!!”
Through the dense darkness, a voice reached Qin Tian’s ears. Although faint, it was unmistakably clear to him.
Yet, Qin Tian doubted his own ears, suspecting he was hallucinating.
Who could possibly call his name on this deserted island, in this Bamboo Forest?
Could it be Ye Lin, worried about him, who had managed to find this place? No! That was impossible!
In this darkness, it was impossible to tell directions. Let alone finding him, it would already be lucky just to make it to the Bamboo Forest.
As much as he tried to deny it, the moment Qin Tian heard that voice, he instinctively believed deep down that it was Ye Lin’s voice.
“Qin Tian!!!”
Just as Qin Tian was lost in suspicion, the voice sounded again, this time even closer. Soon after, a small light appeared before Qin Tian’s eyes.
That glimmer of light was no brighter than a firefly, but in this absolute darkness, it seemed capable of pushing the darkness back.
The instant he saw that light, Qin Tian was certain—the voice belonged to Ye Lin.
“Qin Tian!”
“Qin Tian!!”
One call after another, the voice drew closer to Qin Tian, and the light grew larger. By now, Qin Tian could already make out Ye Lin’s figure.
Ye Lin had come together with Han Pi, riding on Han Pi’s back, holding a torch in her hand, calling his name again and again. Even though she was shrouded in darkness, not a trace of fear appeared on her face.
At this point, Ye Lin had not yet found Qin Tian, but she kept moving in his direction.
***
Meanwhile, the Wild Boar herd had gathered together. By the torchlight, Qin Tian could see them retreating farther and farther back. Whether they were afraid of Han Pi or of Ye Lin’s torch—or perhaps both—he couldn’t tell.
Qin Tian’s emotions at this moment could no longer be described as mere excitement. Instead, a tangled web of feelings surged within him, indescribably complex.
With the Wild Boar herd still nearby, Qin Tian dared not respond to Ye Lin, fearing the herd might be startled and charge at him. He also worried for Ye Lin and Han Pi—if a fight broke out, they might not be able to win against the Wild Boars.
As Ye Lin and Qin Tian drew within thirty meters of each other, Han Pi suddenly noticed the Wild Boar herd and let out a low, growling roar.
Han Pi’s sudden reaction caught Ye Lin’s attention, and she instinctively looked toward the direction Han Pi glared at. Once she did, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
The torch’s light didn’t reach far; at this distance, the scenery was pitch black for Ye Lin. She couldn’t even see Qin Tian’s head poking out, let alone the dung heap.
Yet even so, Ye Lin was certain that Qin Tian was in that direction. Perhaps this was the so-called sixth sense unique to women.
“Han Pi, let’s go!” Her tone was firm and resolute—gone was her usual frail demeanor.
With that command, Han Pi let out a roar and charged at the Wild Boars. On his back, Ye Lin’s hair fluttered in the wind, one hand holding the torch, the other gripping the Stone Axe, an unexpected air of valor about her.
“Humph! Humph, humph!”
Facing Han Pi and Ye Lin, the Wild Boar herd finally felt fear. After a few grunts, they hurriedly fled.
The moment he saw the Wild Boars leave, Qin Tian stood up and called out, “Ye Lin!”
However, he had been squatting for too long. As he abruptly stood, his blood pressure shifted, and his brain didn’t get enough blood. His vision went black, and he collapsed onto the ground.
“Qin Tian!” From afar, Ye Lin saw Qin Tian and immediately panicked, her mind going blank.
She rushed to the dung heap before Han Pi had even stopped, leaping off Han Pi’s back and dashing to Qin Tian’s side.
“Qin Tian! Are you alright? Are you hurt?!” Ye Lin slapped Qin Tian’s cheek. “Don’t fall asleep! You mustn’t fall asleep!!”
“Relax, I’m alive.” After a moment, Qin Tian’s vision finally cleared.
Hearing Qin Tian’s voice, Ye Lin finally let out a breath of relief.
Seeing the tension on Ye Lin’s face and the tears at the corners of her eyes, Qin Tian couldn’t help but smile as his heart filled with emotion. “I just can’t move for now. Let me rest for a bit.”
“Can you get up?” Once she confirmed Qin Tian was alright, the worry and tension disappeared from Ye Lin’s face, replaced by a grave expression. “There are a lot of beasts after nightfall. We need to leave here quickly.”
Qin Tian nodded. “If you don’t mind a little filth, I’ll need your help.”
Without another word, Ye Lin draped Qin Tian’s arm over her shoulder and helped him to his feet.
“Han Pi, I know you’re covered in injuries, but please hang in there just a bit longer. Once we’re back, you can rest all you want.” Ye Lin stroked Han Pi’s head.
Han Pi gave a soft reply and lowered himself, allowing Qin Tian and Ye Lin to climb on.
“You have to hold me tight—don’t you dare fall off.” Sitting in front of Qin Tian, Ye Lin guided his hands around her waist.
“I wouldn’t let go even if I died.” Qin Tian held Ye Lin tightly.
Normally, such intimate contact would have left both of them blushing furiously, but in this perilous Bamboo Forest, neither had the mind for anything else.
***
“Han Pi, let’s go!”
Once they were seated, Ye Lin gave the command, and Han Pi turned and left the area.
All along the way, Qin Tian and Ye Lin remained silent, their eyes constantly scanning their surroundings, ears filled with the muffled sounds of Han Pi’s running.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.