Troll! The Unkillable Cockroach

The iron pot of stew bubbled with a rhythmic "gurgle-gurgle." Chen Jinyang lifted the lid, releasing clouds of steam and a rich, meaty aroma that made his mouth water uncontrollably. He brandished his dagger, slicing peeled, washed potatoes into the pot one by one; the pale yellow chunks landed in the oily broth, sending ripples across the surface.

Mishaer lay obediently on the winter wolf pelt, which was spread over a thick layer of soft, dry grass. The little one toyed with the soft wolf fur, her large eyes curving into cozy little crescents. Her delicate chin bobbed as she muttered to herself, and her fiery red curls, set against the silver-white fur, radiated an infinite spark of vitality.

Chen Jinyang watched the carefree little girl with a sense of ease. In his past life, a world overflowing with material desires, he had grown accustomed to slaughter and betrayal. His long-hardened heart now felt a renewed sense of youthful vigor and vitality, a special warmth and intimacy welling up from within.

Martial arts require emotion. It wasn't that he hadn't understood this in his previous life; he had simply walked the wrong path, leading to failure at the final hurdle.

Now, having attained sudden enlightenment and been lucky enough to start over, one must ask: for whom does my blade ring?

When night fell, Phinia and Alos returned, dusty and tired from their journey. A massive wild ox served as the spoils of their hunt; half of its body had been nearly cleaved in two by Phinia's giant axe.

The warm hearth and steaming broth drove away the hunters' cold and fatigue. Little Alos, his nose red from the frost, slurped down the hot soup while snot ran down his face, regaling his curious sister with tales of his thrilling hunting adventure. Though most of his "adventures" were fabricated, they still drew gasps of wonder from the little girl.

Phinia ate the chunks of meat happily, occasionally taking a large gulp of broth from the bowl Chen Jinyang handed her, and now and then, she would return a silly, beaming smile. The giantess was very satisfied with her current life; submitting to a gentle, tolerant, and kind powerhouse (at least, that was how she saw him) was perfectly normal for a female frost giant. A warm and safe nest, sufficient and delicious food, kind and lively companions, and the ability to engage in happy, stimulating exercise with a powerful conqueror every day—Phinia, who had wandered the wilderness in loneliness and confusion for countless years, felt this was the greatest gift the gods could bestow, even if she didn't worship any deity.

The physical heat accumulated from training was a bit high, and the interaction between Chen Jinyang and Phinia took some time. When he returned, refreshed and dragging a limp Phinia, the little ones were already asleep on the wolf-skin bedding. He tiptoed over to tuck them in. After adding water to the stew pot on the hearth to prepare breakfast for the next day, he crawled into the blankets, curling up with Phinia and falling into a deep sleep.

While the sky was still dim, Chen Jinyang dreamed that a massive boulder was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. He woke up with a start, only to discover that Phinia was using him as a bolster. Chen Jinyang gently pushed aside the still-sleeping Phinia and stood up, stretching his aching body.

The fire in the hearth was dying, so he added more wood to bring the flames back to life. He added more water to the pot that had been simmering all night and placed large chunks of hard bread in the hearth's side rack to toast. Once finished, Chen Jinyang walked out of the cellar. He went through a set of fist forms to loosen his stiff limbs, then washed up by the well and took an icy cold shower. Bare-chested, Chen Jinyang began his routine morning training. He first practiced the Twelve Forms to thoroughly stretch his tendons and bones, then picked up the giant pole to practice the great spear.

Why call it "playing" with the great spear? Because the pole was so thick and long that one hand couldn't even grip it fully. When swung, it vibrated back and forth, impossible to stabilize. Chen Jinyang used the resistance and elasticity of the giant pole to train his body's explosive reaction and coordination; it looked as effortless as child's play.

After a session, Chen Jinyang began to sweat, his muscles and bones fully relaxed, his strength brimming, and his vitality renewed. Today was his turn to hunt, but before leaving, he needed to process yesterday's catch. Chen Jinyang took his butchering dagger and headed toward the shed where the game was stored.

However, as he approached the shed, he noticed a strange drag mark on the snow. Furthermore, a peculiar, fishy stench lingered in the air—a faint, cloying, putrid smell, like rotting wood. Moments later, Chen Jinyang realized the ox carcass inside the shed was gone.

He'd been robbed!

Chen Jinyang examined the drag marks on the snow and discovered footprints that had been deliberately obscured—huge, humanoid prints, but with only three toes. This unknown creature seemed to want to hide its origins, but it didn't care if its path was discovered.

Chen Jinyang didn't care about the lost ox; if he wanted, he could catch more at any time, as the Hidden Forest was teeming with game. What worried him was that this mysterious thief might harm his family, just like the winter wolf had before. These terrifying monsters posed too great a threat to the two children.

If something were to go wrong, it would be too late for regrets. Chen Jinyang went back to wake Phinia, told her to watch the little ones, and then grabbed two short javelins and followed the tracks. The drag marks extended directly to the base of the northern wall, then went over it and off into the distance.

Looking at the snow marks on top of the four-meter-high wall, the fact that the intruder could come and go so freely sent a surge of crisis through Chen Jinyang. His resolve to eliminate this thief hardened. Chen Jinyang leaped over the wall and followed the trail.

The drag marks grew shallower and became slanted, turning and breaking several times along the way as if to confuse potential trackers, but such tricks could not fool an anti-tracking expert like Chen Jinyang. After traveling several miles, the tracks actually turned back, circled around, and returned to the rear of the village, heading south along the wall.

Chen Jinyang sneered at the row of giant footprints in the snow, a murderous intent rising in his heart. The thief had gone to such great lengths to hide its form while lurking near the village; its intentions were obvious, and its crimes were unforgivable.

He accelerated his pace, rounded the back wall, and finally spotted the cunning thief.

What a monster it was!

It was nearly six feet tall just sitting on the ground. Its rot-gray, gelatinous skin was covered in tumors and scabs, and its ugly, humanoid head was topped with coarse, gray-green, grass-like hair. The monster was slightly hunched, its body appearing thin and weak, but its thick, gibbon-like arms completely betrayed its formidable nature.

The monster was hiding just a few dozen yards from the wall, crouching behind a boulder. Its broad, powerful palms, tipped with sharp claws, tore through the ox's skin and bone like paper. It scooped out the internal organs and shoved them into its terrifying maw, swallowing them down without even chewing.

Chen Jinyang stood not far behind the monster, which remained completely unaware. He suddenly let out a roar and threw a javelin with all his might. The force was so great that the javelin hissed with heat from friction against the air, tearing through space and striking the monster in the back. It pierced through the chest as if shooting into rotten wood.

The monster merely paused for a moment, ignoring Chen Jinyang's attack entirely, and continued to scoop out the ox's organs to shove into its mouth. Only after it had finished the entrails did it slowly stand up.

This terrifying monster was nearly ten feet tall, with long arms and legs; its arms hung past its knees, and if it bent over even slightly, its hands would drag on the ground. Its nose drooped into a bulbous shape that nearly hung past its chin, and its earthy-yellow pupils stared at Chen Jinyang with chilling, cruel indifference. To Chen Jinyang's surprise, the wound on the monster's chest where the javelin had pierced it had already vanished.

The monster swung its arms, which occasionally dragged on the ground, appearing clumsy and wobbly, but this was merely a deception. The monster was actually very fast; its long legs, which were nearly as long as Chen Jinyang's entire height, covered seven or eight of his steps in a single stride. Chen Jinyang felt a tremor of doubt. As the monster approached, he threw his second javelin. This time, it struck the charging monster directly in the left eye, piercing three feet into its skull.

Seeing his strike hit the monster's vital point, Chen Jinyang breathed a sigh of relief. While lamenting that his throwing technique had improved, he began calculating how to dispose of the monster's corpse.

However, something happened that made Chen Jinyang's jaw nearly hit the floor.

The monster stopped, pulled the javelin out of its head, and snapped it in two before tossing it aside. It then resumed its charge, opening its arms to grab the stunned Chen Jinyang. Chen Jinyang instinctively rolled several times to dodge the grab. Even more absurd things continued to unfold: the wound on the monster's head healed at a speed visible to the naked eye, including its eye, which was covered in a blood scab that soon burst, revealing a newly opened eye.

Damn it! This is even more perverted than Wolverine!

Chen Jinyang's fear turned into ferocity. He thought, I don't believe it. You can't be more monstrous than the legends.

He charged forward without hesitation, grabbed the monster's wrist, and slammed it into the ground. With a "thud," the snow on the surrounding trees shook loose. Chen Jinyang dragged the monster around, slamming it back and forth like a sack of potatoes over a dozen times; the earth shook with every impact as if it were cracking. Getting into the rhythm, Chen Jinyang grabbed one of the monster's arms and twisted it several times until he ripped it clean off. Then, he grabbed the monster's dizzy head, braced his feet against its shoulders, and exerted all his strength in a sudden twist, snapping its neck and tearing the head right off.

Chen Jinyang panted heavily, threw away the filthy, ugly head, and pointed at the monster's body, shouting triumphantly, "I don't believe you can grow your head back and survive that!"

Then, a slap in the face occurred. The monster stood up, picked up its severed arm, and jammed it back into the stump; it grew back in the blink of an eye. Then, it wobbled around, found its missing head, and—before Chen Jinyang's stunned eyes—pressed it back onto its shoulders. The jagged flesh at the neck immediately began to knit together. Oh! The head was backward, so the monster grabbed it and twisted it a full 180 degrees to straighten it out.

The monster shook its head, let out a roar at Chen Jinyang, and charged again with a thunderous rumble. Chen Jinyang gritted his teeth and shouted, "I don't believe you have no weaknesses!" He rushed forward, knocked the monster down, and unleashed a barrage of crushing punches. From its toes to its armpits, he struck every vital point a normal human would have. If a normal person had taken this beating, they would have been reduced to a pulp finer than ground meat, yet the monster remained lively and relentless.

Fortunately, the monster's body was not as hard as the winter wolf's, and Chen Jinyang's strength had increased significantly over this period, allowing him to pummel his opponent freely.

"I don't believe you can recover if I strip you down to your ribs!" Chen Jinyang turned his fingers into tiger claws, tearing chunks of flesh off the monster, only for the monster to scoop up the discarded flesh and slap it back onto its own body.

"I..."

Chen Jinyang was completely at a loss. He finally understood the feelings of the powerhouses in the animations he watched in his youth, who were defeated by the "bronze-level underdogs" who kept breaking their limits and refusing to die.