To Chen Jinyang, being a mercenary or an assassin was just a job. As long as he was skilled at it and had a competitive edge, he could always make a living.
Since things had grown more stable back home, he had no choice but to take his business abroad. Fighting was the only thing he was good at.
Chen Jinyang was exceptionally skilled with a blade—so skilled that he was terrifying. People said that beyond ten paces, a gun was faster, and within ten paces, a gun was faster still. But inside seven paces, Chen Jinyang's blade was deadlier. The reason was simple: as far as anyone knew, he was the only living person in the world who had trained his martial arts to the level of half-step Dan Jin. His physical strength exceeded the limits of human capability; wrestling tigers and leopards barehanded was child's play.
Chen Jinyang had once had a dream: after earning enough money, he would retire and return to his hometown, marry a wife who wasn't too pretty, and have two children—ideally a boy and a girl. He would smack the little brat around now and then and dote on his little sweetheart, then open a small shop and live a quiet, ordinary life until the day he died.
Because of that dream, Chen Jinyang knew all about playing the fool to catch the tiger. He rarely showed his inhuman side, so as not to attract unwanted attention. But if you walked the night road often enough, sooner or later you'd meet a ghost. During what seemed like an ordinary rescue mission, Chen Jinyang accidentally revealed his Spider-Man-like jumping ability in a moment of crisis. And then it was all over.
A certain country that relied on comic books to manufacture its national spirit immediately sprang into action. First, an intelligence agency whose name began with C tentatively tried to capture Chen Jinyang. They failed. Even though they had overestimated their target's abilities, they had still underestimated Chen Jinyang's true combat strength. He was a killing machine whose physical capabilities were in no way inferior to those of a certain comic-book super-soldier. Then a certain F organization and the globally flag-planting soldiers joined the hunt. They believed that if they captured this man from China, the superheroes of their fantasies would become reality. Chen Jinyang's displays of combat prowess during his escape only reinforced that belief.
Thanks to the pursuers' piecemeal tactics, Chen Jinyang managed to stay on the run for three whole years, leaving the blood of his pursuers on his hands. In the end, he couldn't find anywhere to settle down. It wasn't that he couldn't go home and hide there; people from home had even come to help him. But after taking so many lives, there was no turning back. Chen Jinyang couldn't drag his people into this just for his own sake. That would have left a regret he could never undo.
You couldn't expect a beast accustomed to devouring its own kind to return to the herd. So after a failed attempt to force his way through a martial arts breakthrough left him nearly paralyzed from the waist down, Chen Jinyang resolutely chose to face the end. He went out in a spectacular "fireworks display," bringing his flight to a close.
When Chen Jinyang awoke from the endless darkness, he found himself in an unfamiliar forest. It was a typical cold-temperate forest, half coniferous and half deciduous, filled with towering trees dozens of feet high. Beneath them, shrubs choked with dead branches and fallen leaves lent a few eerie touches to the bleak late-autumn landscape. Chen Jinyang slowly sat up. He was completely naked, his skin stinging with the heat of burns, and the black ash covering him rose in goosebumps in the cold wind.
Chen Jinyang tested his body. Apart from feeling a little cold, he was full of strength. His old injuries had healed without treatment, and he felt decades younger. He tried to circulate his qi and blood, but nothing happened.
After examining himself, Chen Jinyang finally confirmed that his body was no longer the one he'd had before. This body was naturally powerful; even without training, its strength was on par with that of an ordinary martial artist at the peak of the Ming Jin stage. He stood six feet three inches tall—just over 1.9 meters. His bones and muscles were exceptionally strong and resilient. Though they couldn't match his former body, which had reached the peak of the Hua Jin stage, they were far stronger than an ordinary person's. Muscles bulged across his back in a powerful V-shape, as if the God of Strength had been reborn. Even his manhood was a whole size bigger. (Anyone whose mind went there can go stand in the corner.)
William had been a lumberjack, hired by a band of adventurers to explore the Hidden Forest. The adventurers were scattered by a surprise attack from a group of monsters led by an Ogre. William escaped by virtue of his strength, only to have the bad luck to attract the attention of a Griffin. A Griffin fireball struck, and William, who had fled into the woods, met his tragic end. After his soul was scattered, Chen Jinyang got lucky and took over his body.
The Griffin had already left. (Griffins rarely landed alone in the forest, even when looking for food.) Shivering, Chen Jinyang got to his feet and tried to figure out what to do next. One thing was certain: this wasn't Earth, and he no longer had to worry about those bloodthirsty pursuers.
But if he wanted to survive here, he first had to fit into this world. His host had left behind very few memories, and Chen Jinyang was a stranger in an unfamiliar place whose language he didn't speak. It seemed he would have to use William's identity for now. He wondered if William's family would come looking for him.
Of course, his most urgent problems were food and clothing. Otherwise, he'd freeze or starve to death before anyone had a chance to kill him.
Autumn in the Hidden Forest was bitterly cold. Fallen branches and leaves had accumulated on the ground for countless years, forming a thick layer of humus that squelched and crunched underfoot. Following the trail William had left while fleeing, Chen Jinyang hugged himself and walked barefoot. Along the way, he gathered soft, dry grass, tied it together with thin vines, and wrapped it around himself. It did little to block the wind, but it was better than nothing. He broke a sturdy branch, longer than he was tall, from a fallen tree and took it as a weapon. He wandered for a long time without finding anything to eat—not a bird or a mouse. Occasionally, he spotted a few shriveled berries hanging from the branches of bushes. He picked out the ones that looked harmless and chewed them slowly before swallowing. The hunger only grew worse.
Chen Jinyang had been walking for the better part of half a day when he heard heavy footsteps in the distance. An indescribable stench mixed with the smell of blood wafted over, making him gag. He had never smelled anything so foul in his life. The footsteps stopped abruptly, followed by a heavy thud. William was climbing a mound of earth when he looked toward the sound. Not far away stood a monstrous humanoid, ten feet tall, grinning at him. Its bulging eyes were sunken, and its bloodstained, dark-brown hide resembled the bark of an ancient elm. Its mouth stretched almost from ear to ear, with enormous fangs jutting outward and pale brown drool hanging from its lips. It held a huge club and wore a large, colorless piece of animal hide around its waist. Half a dead packhorse lay at its feet. It was one of the Ogres that had attacked the adventurers not long ago.
Ogres liked to eat fresh meat raw, especially living humans. Compared with the monsters of the wild, humans were relatively clean and well-groomed, making them a delicacy to Ogres. Young women and children were the most likely to drive them wild.
The humanoid monster opened its mouth and roared excitedly, showing a set of dark yellow, almost black fangs. It swung its club and charged like a humanoid tank, its two enormous legs pounding as it roared toward him.
The monster's massive size and hideous appearance were intensely intimidating. Looking at the creature, which towered half a body above him, Chen Jinyang couldn't help shuddering. Who wouldn't be terrified at the sight of such a huge, vicious monster? What was this thing? Ogres looked clumsy, but they were actually fast. With a roar, it brought its club crashing down toward Chen Jinyang's head.
Its hide is thick and tough. The wooden stick in my hand probably won't hurt it. I'll have to strike a weak point. The thought flashed through his mind. Chen Jinyang gripped the branch, steadied himself, and took a deep breath. Rather than retreat from the charging Ogre, he stepped forward. His feet rooted to the ground as he drove power through his hips and legs, gathered all his strength, and thrust the branch forward in a lunge. Standing straight, Chen Jinyang barely reached the Ogre's chest. He twisted his body, and the branch struck the Ogre between the legs. With a crack, the branch snapped and the Ogre toppled over. Clutching its groin, it hit the ground like a felled tree and rolled around, howling in agony.
Chen Jinyang twisted away from the falling Ogre, sprang to his feet, and threw aside the broken branch. He shook out his numb hands, snatched up the Ogre's discarded club, and brought it down hard on the monster's head. After several blows, he cracked its skull open, spilling its white brain matter. The Ogre struggled desperately for a while, then gradually fell silent. Only its limbs continued to twitch.
Chen Jinyang dropped the club, sat on the ground, and panted. His hands and feet felt weak, and sweat covered his body. It had taken only a few breaths, but he had used the power-generating techniques from his martial arts to defeat his enemy, and he had overexerted himself. Though this body was naturally gifted, it had never been systematically trained and couldn't withstand such explosive movements.
Leaning against a tree, Chen Jinyang caught his breath and wiped the sweat and grime off himself. The wind made him feel even colder. He needed to find something to keep the cold out, or the chill would sap his strength. He got to his feet and began searching the battlefield. Apart from the Ogre's club, which was smeared with blood and brain matter, the only thing of value was the mottled animal hide around its waist. At least it could keep out some of the cold. Carefully, Chen Jinyang removed the foul-smelling hide, spread it on the ground, and rubbed it with dirt, dry grass, and leaves. Once he'd cleaned it a little, he wrapped it around himself. It kept him warmer than the bundle of grass. He'd endured worse things than this to stay alive. What was a little stink?
Chen Jinyang spent a long time rubbing the entire hide evenly. The mottled, filthy pelt turned a muddy brown. He shook off the dirt and slapped it clean. The full hide was as large as two square banquet tables pushed together. It belonged to a typical feline. The hide was supple and smooth, with the head and all four limbs still attached; only half the tail was missing. The stink had faded considerably, now mixed with the earthy smell of the soil. Chen Jinyang inhaled—and doubled over on the ground, retching.
His body's instincts still hadn't adjusted, but he had to put up with the smell of the hide. He would get used to it with time. Chen Jinyang wrapped the pelt around himself like a cassock and tied together the limbs at two opposite corners, along with the tail. With his hairless head covered in black ash, he looked like an "African monk" from another world.
Chen Jinyang rubbed the blood off the club against the ground, hoisted it over his shoulder, and dragged the half-dead packhorse the Ogre had left behind as he turned away from the killing ground.
After dragging it for a while, Chen Jinyang realized something was wrong. The packhorse had been torn in half by brute force. Its head was smashed, its front legs were broken, and its insides were gone. One hind leg remained, barely attached to the rib cage by skin and flesh. It looked as though two monsters had fought over it. That meant there was more than one monster in the forest. The woods were far too quiet. Since waking up, he hadn't seen a single small animal. It was deeply abnormal. Clearly, this was a dangerous place.
He didn't understand the habits of Ogres. They were extremely greedy, semi-gregarious humanoid creatures that ate everything they could find near their gathering places. Once the weather turned cold, the area around an Ogre settlement would be left completely stripped of animals.
Chen Jinyang felt uneasy. With his current stamina, he might manage against one monster, but if several came at him, he was as good as dead. He tore off the packhorse's hind leg, left the rest behind, and ran in the direction William had come from, dragging the club. Several times he heard an Ogre's footsteps and hid in advance. Luckily, nothing else went wrong, and he found the adventurers' camp.
The adventurers' camp was in an open area not far from a small river. It was a chaotic mess. Chen Jinyang searched the entire camp and found a ten-yard-square canvas tent, two wool blankets, six sleeping bags, a wooden bucket, a dagger, a bent iron rod, and a portable backpack containing flint, ink, a quill, several sheets of parchment, salt, a packet of unknown seasoning, and five flat bottles filled with unknown liquids. He gathered dry branches, wood, and tinder, struck a spark with the flint, and built a bonfire. Then he added some thick firewood.
Chen Jinyang carried the wooden bucket to the river. The river was about a yard wide, its clear water flowing gently over the visible bottom. Trees and plants lined both banks, their leaves drifting down. With the sun about to set, the scene had the melancholy air of an autumn chill reflecting his heart. He washed his face in the river and admired his new "magnificent" reflection. He looked young and a little foolish, and his face had a touch of Keanu Reeves about it. The only eyesore was his completely bald head. Good grief! He looked like a skinned turtle egg. What rotten luck! Chen Jinyang jumped into the river with the hide still on. Its fur didn't get wet at all. The pelt was indeed unusual: even when worn open, it kept him warm like some kind of automatic heater. The smell, though, was awful. He bathed in the river, rinsed the hide and the horse leg, then draped a wool blanket over his shoulders and carried a bucket of water back to the adventurers' camp.
Chen Jinyang propped the hide up on a stick beside the bonfire to dry. He cut some horse meat with the dagger, straightened the bent iron rod, threaded the meat onto it, and held it over the fire, turning it as it cooked. As he rotated the rod with one hand, he sprinkled salt evenly over the meat with the other. Flames licked the fat dripping from the chunks, which sizzled and gave off wisps of smoke as a rich, roasted-meat aroma spread through the air. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his mouth watered at the smell. He felt ravenous. He wolfed down his meal with cold water, then roasted the remaining horse meat, cut it into small pieces, and packed it away for tomorrow's rations.
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