Morning light pierced the thin mist, refracting into pale-golden ripples across the Safe Zone's barrier.
Chen An leaned over the stone table, the Hide Notebook spread across its cool surface. His record, the ink still wet, ended with "meat broth feeding."
He raised his eyes toward the straw mat beside the fire pit—the black dog wrapped in deer-hide bandages (whom he had grown accustomed to calling "Little Black" in his heart) was still asleep.
Chen An's hand rested on the black dog's back, his palm clearly sensing the vitality beneath its fur—far more substantial than it had been last night.
He lowered his head and stared. The chest wrapped in deer-hide bandages rose and fell with each breath, its rhythm now regular and deep.
He approached as quietly as possible and crouched down to observe.
His gaze followed the path of the bandages until it finally settled on the side of Little Black's neck.
There, beneath the thick layers of wrapping, the outline of a hideous wound was faintly visible.
Even beneath the layers, the wound's edges could still be made out—the flesh was an unnatural dark red, forming a stark contrast with the surrounding ink-black fur.
It was by no means an ordinary slash. Both its location and depth carried the lethal danger of a fatal strike. Though the medicinal power had forcibly sealed it, it still resembled a brand, silently recounting the brutality of the battle.
The dark-red scab had turned deep brown, while the translucent membrane of flesh covering the wound had thickened to the breadth of a sheet of paper, faintly revealing the tender pink tissue growing beneath.
Most astonishing were the shallow claw marks on its abdomen. Beneath the herbal ash applied last night, the torn flesh had already closed completely, leaving only several faint silver lines, like fragments of moonlight scattered across a lake.
"Abnormal healing rate..." Chen An scribbled rapidly in the Hide Notebook, the pen tip rasping across the paper.
"The Spiritual Power concentration in the Safe Zone is 47% higher than outside (calculated based on the rate of dew condensation), possibly accelerating cellular metabolism and energy conversion."
He added a line in smaller writing: "Verification needed for the Safe Zone's specialized catalytic effect on a Demon Commander's physique."
As he was recording this, the black dog on the straw mat suddenly moved.
This was not some earth-shaking, heart-stopping struggle, but an extremely subtle and barely perceptible fluctuation of energy.
It was like a faint ripple stirred by a breeze on a tranquil lake, or the weak glimmer released when a distant star flickered in the night sky.
The energy fluctuation was so slight that it could almost be ignored, but it truly existed.
Like the tiniest particles in the universe, it was minuscule yet possessed an influence that could not be overlooked.
Chen An keenly sensed the pale-silver threads of Spiritual Power flowing within the Safe Zone's barrier gathering around Little Black at a visible speed.
As if drawn by an invisible vortex, the Spiritual Power seeped through the gaps in the bandages and condensed over the wounds into extremely fine, faintly glowing dewdrops.
The moment the dewdrops touched the flesh, they melted away without a trace like spring rain sinking into soil. At the same time, the silver lines around the wounds lit up and spread toward the center like an electrical circuit being connected!
The Nourishment of Spiritual Power and the Transformation of the Wounds
Chen An held his breath and stared.
Under the nourishment of Spiritual Power, the membrane of flesh around the puncture wound in the neck thickened and extended at an almost miraculous speed, completely covering the exposed outline of the windpipe.
The gash that had once seeped pale-pink blood foam was now sealed by a layer of tough, pearlescent new tissue, leaving behind only a faint depression.
At the deepest tear along the spine, the flaps of flesh folded together as if sewn by invisible threads. The wound, deep enough to expose bone, rapidly closed as pale-red granulation tissue filled its surface, which was then covered by a smooth, thin membrane.
What shocked him even more was the change in the energy within Little Black's body. He took out his homemade, crude Spirit Pressure Gauge (a ceramic shard suspended from a vibration sensor made from animal sinew).
As it neared Little Black's body, the ceramic shard began moving on its own without any wind, producing an extremely faint hum—an omen of violent fluctuations in the energy field!
The sleeping black dog seemed to have become a black hole, greedily devouring the Safe Zone's pure Spiritual Power. The pores all over its body opened, and every breath carried out pale-golden motes of light that swirled like stardust.
At noon, when the sunlight was at its strongest, a sudden change occurred.
Little Black's tightly closed eyelids trembled violently, its long lashes fluttering rapidly like butterfly wings.
Chen An tightened his grip on the Spirit Pressure Gauge and watched as the ceramic shard's vibration frequency suddenly skyrocketed! In the next instant, those brown-black eyes snapped open—
The pupils were no longer scattered and dazed like yesterday. Instead, they resembled glass tempered in flame, clear and deep, swirling with an almost intelligent light.
Yet beneath that intelligence lay a layer of cold vigilance, like a vicious beast lurking at the bottom of a deep pool.
Its gaze locked onto Chen An at once. A suppressed growl rumbled from its throat, and its body instinctively arched, its bandage-wrapped forepaws digging deeply into the straw mat as if it would spring up the next moment!
Chen An froze where he stood, cold sweat seeping from his palms. That gaze belonged to no ordinary dog—it was the gaze of a predator that had endured slaughter and understood danger, carrying the unique pressure of a great demon from the Primordial Wilderness. Though weak, it stabbed straight into the soul.
The standoff lasted only an instant.
Little Black's tightly arched back suddenly relaxed. The sharp vigilance in its eyes receded like the tide, replaced by a complicated scrutiny.
Its nostrils flared, as if catching the lingering scent of meat broth and the fresh fragrance of herbs in the air, or perhaps identifying the "mortal" quality of Chen An, whose body held no trace of Spiritual Power. In the end, the ice in those eyes melted, replaced by the faintest hint of confusion and... a trace of indescribable gratitude?
It slowly lowered its head and rested its chin on its crossed forepaws. A long, almost sigh-like whimper escaped its throat. Its tense muscles relaxed completely, with only the tip of its tail brushing lightly across the straw mat, like a silent compromise.
Chen An let out a long breath, only then realizing that his back was drenched in cold sweat.
He tentatively offered half a bowl of warm meat broth. Little Black did not resist. It even leaned toward the rim of the bowl and began swallowing in small mouthfuls.
This time, its movements were no longer governed entirely by instinct. Instead, they carried clear restraint and grace—it paused every few sips, and though the wound in its throat rose and fell slightly as it swallowed, no more blood foam seeped out.
As the sunlight slanted westward, Chen An changed Little Black's bandages. When he removed the old dressing, he sucked in a sharp breath:
The silver lines from the claw marks on its abdomen had vanished completely, leaving skin as smooth as before;
The depression in its neck had faded until it was almost invisible;
At the tear along its spine, new flesh covered two-thirds of the wound, its edges flushed with healthy pink.
"One day's work is comparable to ten months..." Chen An wrote his conclusion heavily in the notebook. "The Safe Zone's Spiritual Power has an extraordinary catalytic effect on injuries at the Demon Commander level. Its mechanism may involve the resonance between higher-dimensional energy and the laws of life."
As dusk settled, Little Black curled into a ball on the straw mat, its breathing even and deep.
Chen An tended the fire pit and added more wood. The leaping flames reflected in those half-lidded eyes, casting a shimmer like shattered gold. When their eyes met, Little Black suddenly blinked once, ever so slightly.
In that instant, Chen An was certain—this was no ignorant beast. The intelligence hidden deep within those eyes was like an ancient mirror awakening, reflecting the vastness of the Primordial Wilderness and his own tiny figure.
(Chapter Thirty-Six—End)
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