C2 Strange Beast Skin

Gasping for air, Jing Chong took a moment to sit at the cave's entrance, slowly regaining a bit of his strength. The numbness and soreness surged through his body once more, his head buzzing so intensely that he nearly passed out from the lack of breath.

Yet, as a young man with a strong Blood Aura, he persevered despite not having eaten for an entire day and bearing numerous injuries. He was somewhat safer now, but he knew that without food or water, his situation remained perilously dangerous. Perched in this lofty cave, hunger could easily claim his life.

With this grim realization, he mustered the strength to stand and turned to face the darkness of the cave that lay behind him.

The musty odor grew more intense, but with his life hanging in the balance, Jing Chong had no room for fastidiousness. Brushing aside the green vines before him, he plunged into the cave with heavy steps.

Inside the pitch-black cave, devoid of any light, his large frame obscured the entrance even further, making it impossible to see. His eyes, adjusting from the glaring daylight to the stark darkness, temporarily lost their hearing.

After a while, his eyes finally adapted to the dimness. Jing Chong crouched down slightly and peered into the cave with the faint light available.

The cave appeared to be a natural formation, quite spacious—about the size of three rooms—though it felt cramped at the entrance. The cave walls were blanketed with moss, the source of the musty scent due to the lack of ventilation. Moving forward, Jing Chong felt the softness beneath his feet and, looking down, was astonished to find the ground carpeted with weeds.

What seemed to be weeds was actually layers of dry grass, with recent green traces on top. Curious, Jing Chong squatted down. Surely no one would have intentionally piled it so thickly.

Digging gently with his hand, he was amazed to discover that the grass was nearly three feet deep. If this were indeed a natural cavern, sealed off and accumulating a layer of moss and dead leaves each year, then after three feet, there must be thousands of layers.

With thousands of layers of moss, could this natural cavern truly hold nearly ten thousand years of history?

Lost in his wild musings, Jing Chong couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle ruefully. Here he was, a man on the brink of death, accidentally stumbling into this place, unable to even cling to life. What use was there in pondering such pointless matters? He'd be better off searching for something to eat to quell the growling of his empty stomach.

As he pondered, he scanned his surroundings, only to be met with disappointment. It was hardly surprising; in this secluded cave, not even a mouse could find its way in. How could there be any food? Even if seeds were carried in by the wind, they'd struggle to grow in this sun-starved environment.

Sighing at the inescapability of his fate, he thought it might be easier to just embrace death.

With that thought, Jing Chong ceased his fruitless activity. He lifted his feet and made his way deeper into the cave, seeking a dry and comfortable spot to lay down, sleep peacefully, and leave his fate to the heavens.

Treading through the thick moss, he reached the heart of the cave. The darkness was so complete he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, yet he felt no fear. Far from the damp entrance, he simply squatted down.

The thick bed of weeds was surprisingly comfortable, surpassing even the hard bed back home. "The cave as my blanket, the earth as my robe, let me take my eternal rest here," he murmured.

With that, he lay down, accepting this place as his final resting spot. He gazed up at the stone ceiling, seeing nothing yet lost in thought. His mind was a whirlwind of chaos, and even with closed eyes, he could envision countless tragic scenes.

He tried to empty his mind, to avoid dwelling on the distressing thoughts, focusing solely on the desire for a swift end, to be reunited with his parents.

Yet the more he tried to avoid it, the more his mind replayed the scenes like a relentless film: the gruesome images of bloodied bodies, the twisted faces, and the wicked laughter echoing around him.

"Kill him, kill him! Once he's dead, we can report back!"

The familiar voice incessantly echoed in Jing Chong's mind, the words so clear that they jolted him upright in an instant.

"Report to our superiors? What kind of report are they talking about? Could this be a premeditated murder?"

Jing Chong may have been young, but he was far from foolish. Once he regained his composure, he swiftly pieced together a hint of the truth from the people's conversation.

Yet, when he thought of his unassuming parents, he was at a loss as to who might bear a grudge against such unremarkable farmers.

The Jing family had been outsiders in the village since his father, Jing He, was a young man. His mother was a bona fide local, and rumor had it that his father had arrived here alone, seeking refuge. They were poor, but his father was an honest man, and it was for this reason that his mother had agreed to marry him.

The couple toiled to clear the land, and although they weren't wealthy, they led a tranquil and contented life.

His father possessed incredible strength, equivalent to that of five men, and Jing Chong remembered fondly how, as a child, he would follow his father into the fields, playing with the calves while his father single-handedly plowed the land. Despite the hard work, his father always managed to finish the farm chores early. In those days, his father was an absolute hero in his eyes.

Nevertheless, Jing Chong was baffled as to when his father could have possibly angered anyone. He was merely a strong farmer; why would he be targeted for such a brutal fate?

As these thoughts swirled in his head, Jing Chong's eyes moistened once more. But having cried so much already, all that remained was a raspy sob.

The more he struggled to cry, the more frantic he became, unable to even shed tears as he desired. In his frustration, he began to slap his own face.

Jing Chong's energy grew as he thrashed about, convulsing and rolling in the weeds against the wall. He had turned the area into complete disarray, even the three-foot-thick layer of grass was trampled down to its roots.

The icy touch of the stone wall against his spine brought a semblance of calm, and he lay back down in the man-sized depression in the grass, staring blankly at the sky, his hand dangling limply.

"Pa Ta!"

His hand, falling freely, landed on the stony ground still strewn with weeds. Instead of the anticipated pain, his palm felt something soft and pliable, like animal hide.

Was it possible that there were other creatures here that shared his fate? In death, they left behind nothing but their hides, while he would likely leave behind nothing more than a skeleton.

Jing Chong indulged in a bit of self-deprecation, yet without realizing it, he grasped the thick beast skin in his hands. A mere flicker of movement before his eyes was all it took to catch the attention of someone—or something—watching.