Chapter 108

An hour later, Thomas grew uneasy. He turned off the car’s music and frowned at the forest.

The white figure had not appeared.

Two hours later, he got out of the car and paced in place, occasionally gazing into the forest, lost in thought.

It was already noon, and she still hadn’t come out.

Thomas began to doubt: Had he misunderstood her? Was she staging some self-harm ploy to make him reverse his decision to drive her away?

Then what had she gone into the forest for?

Thomas remembered how she’d looked when he first found her—skin torn open, nearly disemboweled by a black panther. At once, he’d pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services; as he was giving them the location, he suddenly noticed her fatal wounds healing before his eyes.

He startled, then changed his story, telling the emergency center it was a mistake—no one was injured.

He hung up and carefully observed her wounds: the granulation tissue was growing rapidly. Though still bloody and raw, the wound that had exposed her internal organs was no longer life-threatening.

This girl was an Awakened.

Realizing this, he speculated why she’d ended up here: pursued? Human experiments? Fleeing?…

His nature wouldn’t let him abandon someone in danger, so he brought her home, summoned a trusted private doctor to treat her, and warned him not to speak of it.

He didn’t press her about her “amnesia” after she woke up.

Once she recovered, he’d send her away—before she brought trouble. That was his decision.

Thomas’s reaction this morning had put him on alert—though the girl seemed frail and gentle, his dog’s response wasn’t faked; she carried immense danger, and bringing her back so carelessly was unquestionably reckless.

So he ordered her to leave.

The girl accepted his decision calmly, showing no anger at his harshness—few people, outside close friends, could endure his bitterness. Her affection and gratitude toward Miranda felt genuine; if she wasn’t pretending, she likely wasn’t malicious.

His request for her to get out of the car had been his final test—if she’d confessed openly, he might have helped her.

But she’d simply walked into the forest.

Before Dark Matter descended, the forest posed little danger beyond harmless wildlife. But since its arrival, nothing was certain. Though no one had reported misfortune within, people had instinctively avoided venturing deep. He had only walked with Timms along the forest’s edge.

The June sun blazed fiercely; Thomas shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the car.

The slender figure still hadn’t emerged.

After a while, Thomas kicked hard at the undergrowth, locked the car, and walked into the forest with his phone in hand.

After a few steps, he hesitated, returned to the glove compartment, pulled out a pistol, and shoved it into his pocket.

With a cold face, he followed the trampled path through the grass. When he found her, he’d yell at her fiercely, give her money, take her to the city, then turn and walk away—erasing this whole affair from his life, returning to his quiet existence.

The deeper he went, the cooler it became; the canopy blocked out the sun, and shafts of noon light pierced through the leaves, striking the grass.

He stopped to check his phone: 1:13 p.m. He’d walked for nearly an hour. The forest was too dense, utterly still—no breeze. His shirt clung to his back, unbearable.

The trampled path stretched deeper; his steps grew hesitant.

Was this girl stupid? Didn’t she know the danger? She’d nearly been killed by a black panther—and yet she dared go so far?

“Frisa!” he shouted. It was the name Miranda had given her—he still didn’t know her real name.

The hollow sound vanished into the depths. Only birdsong and insect chirps answered.

“Oh—God, why punish me like this?!” he cursed bitterly, yet pressed forward.

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Yang Yi stopped and tilted her head, listening.

Was someone calling out?

But it might have been an illusion; she continued walking.

When she first entered the forest, Yang Yi had been driven by fierce emotion—she must find the black panther and kill it.

But as she walked, a worry surfaced—not regret or retreat, but: how would she find it? The forest was so vast!

She’d walked a long time, growing ever deeper. At first, traces of humans remained; now, only primordial thickets surrounded her—grass, shrubs, thorns, damp leaves slapping her face, fuzzy insects burrowing into her clothes.

After walking two or three hours straight, focused solely on tracking the panther, she slipped into a meditative state.

The forest was airless; birds occasionally chirped, unknown crickets hummed, and deeper still, the growls of wild beasts echoed.

At first, she sweated profusely, her clothes stuck to her skin, each step a battle—golden specks danced before her eyes. But after enduring for so long, she grew lighter, easier.

This phenomenon gave her pause.

She began consciously sensing her body’s sensations. Gradually, she sank into a mysterious state: her breathing grew smoother, rhythmic. The air carried faint breezes—rotting plant scent, fresh vegetation, the earth clinging to insects, the odor of animal droppings.

She had a quiet intuition: if she wanted to find the black panther, she would—because it had carried her blood on its fur when it fled.

Before, she’d always relied on her mind-power to solve everything, never once using her body—never sensing the world through touch, hearing, smell, or feeling. She’d ignored her body for too long. Yet without her knowledge, it had been altered by Dark Matter, transformed by the Life Source, even partially reshaped by the Zhiniezu .

She was like someone hoarding a gold mine but only using the gold to build houses—a fool, treating something of immense value as mere building material.

She tried controlling her skin. After dozens of attempts, it grew tough. She snapped a dry branch and jabbed it into her arm—only a faint mark remained.

She grabbed sharp thorns from the ground—still pierced her, but barely, and no blood came.

This level wouldn’t stop the panther’s claws. Should she wait until she fully mastered her body before seeking it?

She fell into thought.

No! It was ridiculous! What had her original decision been? To prove she wasn’t a coward. If she hesitated, if she waited until she was perfectly ready, until she was certain she could kill the panther—it still proved her cowardice!

Besides, when she made this decision, she’d noticed bodily changes she’d never seen before—wasn’t that a reward for her courage?

Suddenly, she stood still, closed her eyes, sniffed the air’s subtle scents, listened for the faintest deviation in the chorus of sounds, and felt air currents shift through the touch of her arms.

Then, without warning, she sped up, sprinting in one direction.