Chapter 109: This Is Honor

When he first arrived, the sunlight was still fierce, but now it had grown dark.

The forest, already dim due to its excessive lushness, was now even darker; Thomas cursed the fickle weather of Britain, looked up at the sky through the gaps, and a single raindrop fell on his face, followed immediately by a torrential downpour that soaked his head and face.

He had been following the tracks for three hours; even if he returned now, he would be soaked through, so he might as well continue the pursuit.

She was a young, frail girl; her stamina was certainly inferior to his, and he might catch up with her any moment.

Moreover, considering sunk costs, having pursued her for so long, it would be a pity to give up now; could he really watch this girl be devoured by wild beasts?

Thomas took out his phone to check the time; it was already past three in the afternoon.

Suddenly, amidst the roaring rain, a beast's roar came from somewhere unknown.

A chill swept across Thomas's back; he quickly drew his gun, leaned against a large tree, and watched the surroundings alertly.

The leaves swayed wildly under the heavy rain, but there was nothing.

Thomas seemed to suddenly remember something, panic flashed across his face, and he shouted, "Frisa!"

His voice dissolved in the heavy rain.

He gritted his teeth, disregarding his soaked body, and ran wildly toward the direction from which the sound had come.

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Yang Yi stood in the heavy rain; the sound of the rain severed her perception, destroying her senses of sound, smell, and air flow.

She did not give up; she chose a relatively open clearing, closed her eyes, spread her arms, and relied on feeling and intuition to fully sense the presence of that black panther from all directions.

Closer, closer, it was nearby...

On a branch of a tall, dense beech tree in the distance, a black figure lay in silent ambush.

In its eyes with yellow irises, the pupils contracted into tiny black holes; this hunter of the forest had long since locked onto its prey, ready to deliver a fatal strike at any moment...

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Thomas had been running through the forest for another ten-plus minutes; his entire body was soaked through, his black shirt and trousers clinging tightly to him as if bound by ropes.

The heavy rain had not stopped, smashing down over his head and face, blurring his vision so that he could see nothing clearly.

By the time he realized he had run in the wrong direction, he was already lost.

He tried to return along the direction he had come, but under the pouring rain, all traces had been erased; not only the girl's footprints, but even the path he had taken had vanished.

His heart pounded like a drum, and he grew somewhat panicked; had that girl already been eaten by a beast?

At this point, hiding the news for her was meaningless; he took out his phone to call the police, pressed a few buttons, but the screen did not light up.

He was completely panicked, fumbling to press the power button, while the black screen seemed to mock him.

The phone had taken on water and would not turn on.

Trembling, he put the phone in his pants pocket, picked up his gun again, remained on guard against the surroundings, and carefully searched for the traces of his return path.

The rain seemed to have lessened slightly, but he was already soaked through; the forest was colder than anywhere else, the chill penetrating his clothes straight to his internal organs, and he shivered.

Somewhere in the distance, the barking of a beast sounded, and he stopped his steps again, uneasily scanning the surroundings.

His legs burned with pain; looking down, he saw that his pant legs had been torn by thorns at some point, and several crisscrossing wounds on his calves were oozing blood.

Although not too severe, under such circumstances, infection was highly likely.

He tried to calm himself, carefully observed the path he had come, and walked back.

Ten-plus minutes later, he had to admit that he was indeed lost.

The rain intensified again, his body grew colder and colder, and he involuntarily shivered.

He could not continue walking like this; he must find a place to take shelter from the rain.

Hypothermia refers to when the human body loses heat faster than it can produce it, causing a drop in core body temperature and producing a series of symptoms such as shivering, confusion, and cardiopulmonary failure; in severe cases, it causes death. He recalled a piece of popular science he had happened to see.

Some social news floated into his mind: explorers in the forest being devoured by wild beasts; some people getting lost in the forest and dying in despair due to malnutrition, hunger, cold, or illness without timely treatment.

He felt a bit regretful; he had been too blindly impulsive in his running; he should have prepared better or sought help, or even just taken a lighter or a raincoat from the car.

At this moment, all regret was too late; he looked around, trying to find a place to shelter from the rain.

However, he was disappointed.

The trees were thick and upright, the shrubs lush; the deciduous arboreal vegetation of Britain was so cold and indifferent.

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The sky grew gradually darker; it was already evening.

In a clearing in the forest, there was a mess; grass and muddy water were mixed, shrubs were flattened, and splatters of blood stained the trunks of thick trees.

The rain was still falling; the black muddy water mixed with bright red blood, showing a filthy color, and was washed away by the small streams carved out by the heavy rain.

In the very center of the clearing, Yang Yi lay on the ground, letting the heavy rain pour down upon her; her teeth and the corners of her mouth were stained with blood, her white knitted sweater dyed by mud, blood, and plant sap until its original color was unrecognizable, hanging on her body like a tattered rag, and she was covered in wounds.

Lying beside her was a black panther, about the same size as her, slender with streamlined, beautiful muscles; there was a fatal wound on its neck, where its throat had been bitten through by a human hand.

Yang Yi's whole body ached, but this intense pain made her feel extremely exhilarated; lying in the mud, the blood-stained corners of her mouth split open, revealing teeth covered in fresh blood and bits of flesh, and she laughed with relief.

She had never felt this exhilarated before; not even on the day she gained telekinesis, not even after defeating the Fire Demon, killing the Brain-Eating Worms, slaughtering the Breeding Abominations, and smashing the altar, did the exhilaration she gained amount to even one percent of what she felt now.

She felt she had gained everything; she had proven to herself that she was not cowardly.

Until this moment, she could proudly say: I am not a cowardly person; I am very brave. I am not strong because I possess telekinesis; I am strong in myself.

Although the wounds everywhere pierced her heart with pain, she felt her whole body refreshed; she took a long sigh, shifted her body, rested her head on the still-warm corpse of the black panther, and gently stroked its head with her right hand.

"Sorry, little one," she murmured, "who asked you to run right into my hands? This is proof of courage... this is honor, this is my self-esteem... I am truly sorry..."

Night arrived, and the forest was even darker; occasionally seeing the sky through the tree branches, one could only see a layer of faintly translucent dark clouds.

The heavy rain turned to a drizzle; the pattering raindrops hit her body, feeling both cold and sticky.

Yang Yi lay on the ground, unwilling to move; she was waiting for her wounds to heal. She had proven herself; she was qualified to live in this forest.

When dawn breaks tomorrow, I will find a small stream, build a small wooden cabin beside it, and plant wild flowers all around, she thought.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out from the distance, followed by a mournful howl of a wolf.

Yang Yi sat up abruptly, turned her head to look in that direction, hesitated for a moment, then immediately got up and followed the sound.

The cold, gloomy darkness, the damp forest, the drizzle pattering down.