Awakening Once More

In his coma, Lin Yi felt himself sinking into a warm, boundless darkness.

Every inch of his body cried out with thirst. His muscles, bones, blood—even the marrow deepest within—let out a dry, cracking roar.

That thirst pierced through all his senses. Fiercer than hunger, more enduring than pain, it was as though countless parched mouths were pressed against his body at once, desperately sucking in anything from the air.

And at that moment, there was nothing inside him. Not a trace of qi and blood could gather.

Amid that extreme thirst, his brain stirred.

The Super Brain that spiritual energy had activated from the very beginning of his transmigration, growing stronger every day, now seemed to have awakened on instinct and began madly devouring the free spiritual energy around it.

The spiritual energy in the forest had originally been sparse, gentle particles scattered through the air. Now, however, as if drawn by an invisible giant mouth, it surged toward Lin Yi's head from all directions, gathering into a steady stream invisible to the naked eye, yet undeniably real.

The two clansmen carrying the stretcher were the first to notice something strange.

"...Did you feel that? It's like the wind's blowing toward Lin."

"It is a little strange. The leaves around us aren't moving at all, but there's a breeze swirling around his head."

The two looked at each other, their footsteps slowing slightly.

The wind was light and soft. As it brushed past their faces, it carried a trace of crisp coolness, unlike an ordinary draft.

But they could not put their finger on what it was, so they could only chalk it up to the familiar notion that strange things always happened around Lin.

Meanwhile, Lin Yi's brain had entered an unprecedented state of operation.

Massive amounts of spiritual energy poured into his skull like a waterfall. His brain greedily devoured that clear current, using most of it for some unknown evolution taking place within itself.

Yet it also separated out a tiny portion with exquisite precision, sending it down along his spine to replenish his physical body.

That returned spiritual energy seeped into his body like a cool stream soaking cracked earth. It slowly flowed through the gaps in his fractured breastbone, through the meridians injured by the Inkshadow Leopard, through the flesh torn open by the Xie Wolf's bites.

The minute cracks in his broken bones were gently nourished. His torn muscle fibers drew together and fused under the spiritual energy's care, while the burning agony throughout his body was peeled away layer by layer.

Lin Yi's furrowed brow relaxed.

The corners of his mouth unconsciously curved upward, and a faint, satisfied hum escaped from deep in his throat.

Though the sound was soft, it was especially clear in the silent forest.

The two clansmen carrying the stretcher stopped at the same time and lowered their heads to look at him.

The expression of comfort, almost intoxication, on Lin Yi's face left them both silent for a moment. Then one of them could not hold it in any longer and murmured to the other.

"...He's seriously injured and unconscious, yet he's still having a spring dream? Lin really is young."

"...Shut up and carry him steadily."

By the time they returned to the tribe, night had completely fallen.

The village chief immediately checked Biao's condition. The bones in his left forearm had shattered in more than one place, and the visible dents and dislocations were horrifying. The claw marks on his forehead were deep enough to expose bone, while more than ten wolf bites and claw wounds across his body continued to seep blood.

The village chief's brows twisted into a knot. He could only apply medicine to stop the bleeding and bandage the external injuries. As for that pulverized arm, he was helpless.

"Biao's left arm can only be set once Lin Yi wakes up," the village chief told the gathered clansmen. "He's better at setting bones than I am. We'll deal with it after he wakes."

Then came Lin Yi.

The village chief's examination made everyone breathe a sigh of relief. Lin Yi's injuries looked frightening—he was covered in blood, with injuries both inside and out—but he had no major fractures, and his internal organs had suffered no fatal damage.

Compared with Biao, he was in far better condition. The village chief cleaned his wounds, applied a thick layer of ointment, wrapped him in clean linen strips, fed him a bowl of herbal medicine to replenish qi and invigorate the blood, then ordered the clansmen to carry him back to his own stone house.

The two clansmen laid Lin Yi flat on the stone bed. As they stood to leave, one of them turned back to look at the person on the bed.

"...It still feels strange." He frowned. "On the way back, there was wind swirling around him. Now we're inside, the door's shut, and that wind's still there."

The other man felt it too.

With the doors and windows of the stone house tightly closed, there should not have been any movement in the air. Yet a faint current was indeed slowly circling around Lin Yi's stone bed, stirring the loose strands of hair on his forehead.

"It should be fine, right? The village chief said his injuries weren't serious."

"Forget it. Lin has always been strange. Let's go and let him sleep properly."

The two shut the door behind them.

Once the stone house fell completely silent, that thin stream of spiritual energy not only did not dissipate, but began accelerating.

The rate at which it absorbed spiritual energy abruptly rose to another level.

Spiritual energy swarmed in from every direction, pouring through the gaps in the stone walls and stirring invisible ripples through the dark stone house.

At that moment, a deeper transformation was taking place across the surface of Lin Yi's cerebral cortex.

Strands of white-gold Divine Markings began emerging from deep within his cerebral cortex, like ancient seal script that had slept for a thousand years being lit inch by inch with a brush of light.

Those patterns were more complex and profound than the Savage Bull Divine Markings, more precise and unfathomable than the Inkshadow Leopard's ink-black Divine Markings. Every curve carried a natural rhythm, like a living painting growing by itself.

As spiritual energy continued to pour in without end, those white-gold Divine Markings began evolving on their own.

They slowly extended, intertwined, and reorganized. New branches grew from the main trunks, while the original curves became more rounded and precise. Their profundity climbed layer by layer at a speed invisible to the eye.

The patterns seemed alive, as though they possessed wills of their own, constantly perfecting themselves through absorption and deduction.

But just then, the brain seemed to detect a more important target.

It began diverting most of the absorbed spiritual energy away from the evolution of its own Divine Markings, instead driving those white-gold patterns to spread in one direction—toward Lin Yi's eyes.

Fine, hairlike tendrils extended from the cerebral cortex, inching forward along his neural pathways toward his eye sockets, advancing slowly yet steadfastly.

The process was incredibly slow. Every step forward consumed enormous amounts of spiritual energy, and the brain poured nearly all the resources it absorbed into it.

Finally, the last strand of white-gold pattern pressed against the surface of Lin Yi's eyeball.

Those web-fine patterns began wrapping around the edges of his pupils, winding layer upon layer, as if weaving an invisible and ultimate crown around each of his eyes.

Though Lin Yi's eyes remained tightly shut, a faint white-gold glow had begun to seep through the gaps between his eyelids.

The light was extremely restrained, flickering between his closed lashes.

After completing its work on his eyes, the brain gathered the spiritual energy back into its own evolution.

About another two hours passed.

Nourished continuously by spiritual energy, the white-gold Divine Markings reached a certain state of saturation. Every end of every pattern found its proper node, and the entire diagram connected head to tail, forming a closed cycle.

The speed at which the brain absorbed spiritual energy began to fall step by step, slowly returning from its tidal-wave eruption to its usual gentle, continuous rhythm.

The circulating airflow within the stone house gradually settled as well, finally vanishing completely, as though nothing had ever happened.

The stone house became quiet once more.

Lin Yi's eyelids twitched.

Slowly, gradually, he opened his eyes.

"...Where am I?"

His voice was hoarse and dry, his consciousness not yet fully returned from the coma.

But he quickly remembered—the Inkshadow Leopard, the wolf pack, Biao, the Eye of Zheng, the village chief and the hunting team arriving.

Lin Yi abruptly sat up!

"Hiss—!"

The movement pulled at the injury in his chest, and a tearing pain instantly exploded through him.

He hunched over and coughed several times, one hand covering the heavily bandaged wound on his chest as he sucked in cold air.

He took several deep breaths to steady himself before realizing something was wrong.

His vision felt strange.

Lin Yi blinked. He instinctively looked toward the stone house's door. The door was closed, and the room was very dark. With normal eyesight, it should have been impossible to make out the details of the wooden door's grain.

Yet he could see them clearly now.

Every line in the wood, every fiber end raised by dampness, even a wisp of dust drifting through the crack beneath the door—all of it appeared distinctly in his vision.

That clarity was unprecedented.

He blinked several times, then rubbed his eye sockets hard. "...What's going on?"

When his fingers touched his eyelids, he faintly sensed something strange coming from deep within his eyes.

But the sensation vanished in a flash, so quickly that he wondered if it had merely been an illusion.