Chapter 4: Striking Back

Ren Zhong once again appeared at the edge of the Indigo Prairie.

Forward!

Having learned his lesson, this time he kept more than twenty meters between his path and the earthen mound where the giant black bear hid.

But he didn’t just walk away; instead, he made a curved detour, sprinting to a spot about twenty meters in front of the mound.

Ren Zhong, the black bear’s mound, and the embankment where the dragonfly would soon appear, all lined up perfectly.

Just as the dragonfly, looking somewhat battered, poked its head out, Ren Zhong spun around, raised his hand, and threw.

A pebble the size of a baby’s fist traced an arc and landed right in the shrubs atop the black bear’s mound.

A furious roar erupted as the black bear lunged from the thicket.

At that moment, the dragonfly skimmed low over the ground, passing directly above the bear’s head.

The black bear raised a paw and swiped upward, its iron claws flashing coldly as they struck the dragonfly square in the face.

Caught off guard, the dragonfly tumbled backward several meters.

Taking advantage of its weakness, the black bear charged madly.

The two fierce beasts immediately clashed.

The dragonfly twisted and darted up and down, launching repeated attacks.

The black bear roared, flailing both paws wildly in the air.

Meanwhile, Ren Zhong, the instigator of this chaos, had already seized the chance to escape further away.

This time, he managed to flee for another five minutes, but the farther he ran, the more his strength failed him, and his pace slowed.

Eventually, he stopped before a three-meter-wide ravine, unable to go any further.

He couldn’t jump across. Turning back, he saw the dragonfly had pursued him yet again.

Blood from the Iron-Feathered Bluebird stained its body, much of it already gone. The rear half of its segmented abdomen was severed, hanging by a shred of exoskeleton, dangling behind.

It no longer flew as steadily as before, swaying left and right.

Clutched in its eight long legs was a round, mangled object—most likely the black bear’s head.

Based on Ren Zhong’s understanding of wild animals, with such severe wounds, the dragonfly ought to find a safe place to recuperate, not keep chasing its prey.

Yet its obsession with him bordered on madness, like a demon from "Journey to the West" drawn by the scent of Tang Monk’s flesh.

Despite its injuries, a dying camel is still bigger than a horse.

Ren Zhong swung his alloy staff, striking the dragonfly’s wings and head, but in the end, he died again, utterly without dignity.

…

He reached the ravine once more, but this time brought a vine.

First, he looped the vine over a protruding rock at the edge, then, bracing himself, slid down into the ravine.

Halfway down, his waist struck a jutting rock, knocking him off balance. He tumbled all the way to the bottom, battered and bruised.

Yet in the next instant, he gritted his teeth and stood, grabbing the lower end of the vine. He leaned back sharply, lifting his legs and kicking off the ravine wall, his body parallel to the ground.

At that precise moment, the dragonfly’s head appeared above the ravine, dive-bombing like a warplane.

There was no time to worry about the oncoming dragonfly. Veins bulged on Ren Zhong’s forehead as he summoned every ounce of strength from his waist and legs.

Above, the rock wrapped by the vine trembled.

A slab of rock—two meters long, over a meter wide, half a meter thick—toppled from the ravine wall and crashed downward.

This was the very rock Ren Zhong had noticed during his previous death, thanks to the god’s-eye view of the afterlife—a detail he could exploit.

The lower part of the slab was already fractured, teetering on the edge. All it needed was a nudge to fall.

He had every chance to bring it down.

As the slab fell, Ren Zhong lost his foothold and slammed heavily onto his back.

His mind was hazy, but he clung to his plan. With his right hand, he grabbed the alloy staff he’d placed nearby in advance. Gripping it with both hands, he thrust it straight upward.

The alloy staff was just a bit longer than the dragonfly’s legs, and it jammed squarely between the creature’s head and thorax.

The dragonfly’s eight legs flailed, hacking at the staff—crack, crack, crack.

Chips and gouges covered the staff’s surface.

Ren Zhong’s hands shook violently, nearly losing their grip.

But the desperate urge to survive kept him holding on with all his might.

The dragonfly’s wings had stopped vibrating; it seemed intent on crushing him with its weight.

Luckily, for all its metallic appearance, the insect’s body density wasn’t high. Though it looked armored, it weighed only a few dozen kilograms—Ren Zhong could bear it.

At last, a shadow loomed as the slab rolled down.

With a final burst of strength, Ren Zhong pushed the staff up and rolled sharply to the left.

The dragonfly pressed down harder.

The end of the staff scraped along his ribs.

Ren Zhong gripped the lower end with his right hand, and instead of resisting, he relaxed his hold, letting the dragonfly’s weight push it down.

Bang!

The base of the staff struck earth just as the rock slab crashed onto the dragonfly’s back.

A sickening crunch echoed.

Ren Zhong released his grip and rolled left several more times.

When he looked back, the slab lay at an angle, propped up by the top end of the alloy staff, whose lower end was deeply embedded in the soil.

As for the once-invincible dragonfly, it was now skewered on the staff.

The rod pierced the soft tissue linking its head and thorax, greenish fluid oozing down.

The dragonfly still struggled, trying to break free.

But with its throat impaled and a wing pinned by the slab, it couldn’t escape.

Desperate, it kept hacking at the staff, but its blows were much weaker now, leaving only shallow marks; it would take ages to break the alloy.

"After killing me so many times, you finally get your turn," Ren Zhong grunted.

He hauled himself up, picked up a rock, and smashed it into the dragonfly’s head with all his remaining strength.

One rock after another.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

The dull, percussive sounds echoed through the wilderness.

How long passed, he didn’t know. Eventually, Ren Zhong collapsed, sprawled on his back, gasping for breath, his face ashen.

Above him, the sunset still glowed; night had not yet fallen.

Ren Zhong’s clothes were in tatters. The skin exposed was mottled with bruises and cuts, some still bleeding.

The relentless dragonfly was finally dead.

Its deformed head drooped at an odd angle, its massive compound eyes pitted and battered like chewed-up headlights on an old scooter.

Ren Zhong tried to sit up, but failed after several attempts.

He was already gravely ill, and to achieve this victory had exhausted every last ounce of strength.

With the dragonfly dead, his spirit collapsed.

Pain racked his body; he had no strength left, not even to twitch a finger.

As he felt his energy ebbing away, Ren Zhong drifted in and out of consciousness.

I’m spent, he thought.

After all this effort, I finally killed the dragonfly, only to die here alone like a forsaken soul.

How wretched.

Yet he knew he had another chance to try again.

Next time, if I’m more careful sliding down the ravine, I might avoid that fall and have an easier time.

But there was a new problem.

Skewering the dragonfly’s neck joint with the alloy staff had involved a lot of luck. The way the slab rolled and the angle at which it struck the dragonfly’s back was delicate; if it had been even a little off, the staff might not have pierced it.

This success was one part skill, nine parts luck.

If he tried again, he’d probably fail more often than not.

Still, he didn’t care. If he could kill it once, he could kill it ten times, a hundred times.

He felt no shame—even a terminally ill, unarmed man from "ancient" times like himself could take down a beast that could easily slaughter a Siberian tiger back on Earth in the twenty-first century.

To die like this—he had no regrets.

Exhausted and battered, Ren Zhong felt his consciousness sinking, his eyelids growing heavier, sleep beckoning irresistibly.

In his daze, he vaguely saw several shadows descending from the sky.

He couldn’t even be bothered to struggle anymore, only cursing inwardly.

Just my luck—what a breakthrough I chose. Take down one, and more show up. Are you kidding me?

Forget going after dragonflies next time—I can’t take it.

“Hey, there’s someone lying in the ravine! Wait, no way—there’s even a Level One Ruin Beast pinned under this slab! And it’s only just died! Wow! What a windfall!”

A clear, sweet female voice sounded in Ren Zhong’s ear like music from heaven.

He jerked his eyes open.

Instantly, he registered two key facts.

First, there really were humans on this planet.

At last, he’d met a living person.

Second, she was speaking Mandarin.

Ah, I’m home.