Severely Wounded

Rowan felt he had been too reckless. He should have left the moment he realized a storm was brewing outside; why on earth was he just lying there daydreaming? Did he not know that spectating came with risks? Now, not only was he forced to watch from a front-row seat, but he was also personally caught up in the chaos.

If he were given another chance, he would stay in his room. No matter what kind of commotion happened outside, he wouldn't budge an inch—if he moved, he'd consider it his loss!

The entire sky was pitch black, and the manic storm howled past. While emitting a hair-raising sound, it also whipped up vast amounts of sand and stone, which, propelled by the wind, shot forward like bullets.

Unfortunately, Rowan was blocking the path ahead.

Although his body was small, the sandstorm was so dense that a massive amount of debris still pelted him.

Rowan extended all his appendages toward his head, using his two Digging Legs to shield his eyes while his other limbs blocked the area around his skull. At the same time, he twisted his body as hard as he could, turning his back toward the direction of the gale.

His newly grown shoulder and back armor had high defensive capabilities. Although he lacked a sense of pain, the dense fuzz covering them told him accurately that the sand and stones had not yet breached his defenses.

Even so, he was still being battered by the incoming debris, causing his body to tumble in the wind, making it extremely difficult to maintain his balance.

In the dizzying spin, his unprotected abdomen suffered a fresh disaster. Although his back armor covered most of it, the sandstorm was a 360-degree, no-blind-spot assault, and his abdomen—which had just recently shortened—suffered heavy damage once again.

Rowan no longer had time to worry about his abdominal injuries, and he gave up on keeping his back to the wind. Because of the constant tumbling and the erratic nature of the storm, the wind's direction changed every single second.

In the end, he could only choose to tuck his head, use his limbs to shield it as best he could, and leave his fate to the heavens.

He already had experience with his abdomen being shredded and knew there was still hope for survival, but if his head were smashed, he would truly be done for.

He still had a long, long time to live; he didn't want to wrap up his story this early.

Everything around him was pitch black, and the wind howled. Rowan couldn't tell one direction from another, and even if he could, it would be useless. He was quickly swept away by the storm to a much more distant place.

He drifted and sank for who knows how long, until even his sturdy back armor was somewhat damaged, and Rowan finally felt the wind force around him begin to subside.

It seemed he had survived, but he immediately faced a new problem.

He couldn't fly! He had only been "born" a few days ago and hadn't been given time to develop.

Even if he could fly, his tiny body would have been useless against such a force of nature.

At this moment, he had no idea how high in the air he had been swept. Never mind that he was extremely nearsighted; even with human eyes, in this dim, low-visibility environment, he probably wouldn't have been able to see very far.

After an unknown amount of time, Rowan felt himself beginning to fall. Fortunately, although the wind had weakened, it still occasionally caught his tiny body, providing a certain degree of deceleration.

At the same time, the hollow cavity inside his body made him lighter, and his semi-circular back armor acted much like a parachute.

Miraculously, he fell from an unknown height, and despite not being able to fly, he didn't suffer any major injuries upon hitting the ground.

No wonder he had never heard of bugs dying from falls in his past life; it turned out that even without wings, they came with certain magical talents.

After landing and rolling twice more in the wind, Rowan finally made a safe touchdown.

Too busy to check his injuries, he stuck his rear end into the ground and began to dig.

Based on the meteorological knowledge he had accumulated from years of watching movies, tornadoes had a calm eye. He had no idea if he was currently in the eye of a storm.

He didn't even know if it was a tornado. Even if it wasn't, he didn't want to figure out what kind of wind it was. He was just a bug now, and he only wanted to save his life.

Regardless, staying on the surface now was just asking for death. He had to escape immediately; only by hiding deep underground would he feel a sense of security.

He dug to an unknown depth—anyway, after Rowan reached the soil layer, he kept digging for a long time... but it was certainly much deeper than his original room.

Thinking of this, Rowan was filled with grief and indignation. He had just lived a stable life for a short while. He hadn't even stayed in his new house many times, and there were those White Grubs he hadn't finished eating—all because he was nosy and wanted to watch the spectacle, these things were now gone. He just wanted to wail about how miserable he was.

But even more miserable were his injuries. One of his Digging Legs had been snapped off, several of his middle and hind legs were broken, and even the ones that weren't were damaged to some extent.

His head and eyes, which had been shielded, didn't look too badly damaged on the surface, but some bumps and scrapes were inevitable. He could detect several black blind spots in his field of vision; he guessed the small eyes responsible for those areas had suffered some abrasions, and he didn't know if they would recover.

His antennae hadn't been shielded, but they were thin and fragile, and half of one had been knocked off.

His shoulder and back armor were severely damaged, with a large chunk missing from the latter.

The worst part was his abdomen, which had just healed. Last time, he had lost three segments due to injury, causing his body to shrink. While he hadn't lost as many segments this time, it was no better; many areas were shredded, exposing the internal tissues.

However, Rowan discovered that although his abdomen was shredded this time, he could see through the holes that there were many fibrous substances sealing these gaps, preventing his internal fluids from leaking out.

It seemed this was one of the results of his last evolution, though the changes were internal and only discovered now.

However, Rowan didn't want to discover this change.

Still, the result was incredibly useful. The abdominal injury looked much worse than the last time, but in reality, it had been temporarily patched, basically stabilizing the wound. It wouldn't continue to deteriorate, at least not to the point where he was eating at the top and leaking at the bottom.

With his one and a half remaining antennae waving and his fuzz standing on end, he carefully sensed his surroundings. There were no abnormal smells or vibrations, so Rowan slowly closed his eyes.

Now, he needed to rest, hoping to use the energy stored in his body to recover.

The damage he sustained this time was, on the whole, much, much worse than the last time. It could be said that there wasn't a single intact part of his body; even his head and eyes, which he had protected the best, had suffered many abrasions and scratches.

Furthermore, the environment he was in this time was far harsher than the last—a completely unfamiliar place.

Last time, at least there was a food source nearby, allowing him to replenish his energy multiple times while recovering. This time, even though he had just eaten a White Grub, the physical exertion in the storm had been immense.

Not to mention that after his abdomen was damaged, although the fibrous substance from his new ability filled the gaps in time, he still lost a portion of his food reserves.

Overall, his current energy reserves were only about half of his full state.

Faced with this situation, his method of repair also underwent some changes.

First of all, thank you all for your bookmarks and votes. Thank you for your support. Starting today, I will try my best to update twice a day.