Chapter 16 - Chapter 16: Survival and Adaptation in the Mist

The dark euphoria of the first successful hunt quickly gave way to the harsh reality of solitary survival. The Black Mist Forest was not a convenient training ground; it was a patient and ruthless predator, ready to devour the unwary or the weak. Gù Ti?nháo knew that his victory over the Shadowhouse was a mixture of newly acquired skill, desperate tactics and a considerable dose of luck. He couldn't depend on luck. The next few days turned into an intensive and brutal class on the art of survival. He learned to move even more stealthily, using the mist not as an obstacle, but as a cloak. His ears were sharpened, learning to distinguish the harmless rustling of leaves from the stealthy step of a beast or the snapping of a branch under the weight of something heavy. His eyes became accustomed to constant penumbra, capturing subtle movements in the shadows. He began to apply the fragmented knowledge about plants that the Account had provided him with. He identified edible roots, although bitter, and berries that could provide a minimum of sustenance. More importantly, he learned to recognize poisonous plants - the red leafy vine that caused painful rashes, the innocent-looking mushrooms that could lead to paralysis, the beautiful-looking flower whose fragrance was a subtle narcotic. He also found sources of running water and learned to purify it by boiling in his small metal pot, avoiding the still, suspicious-looking waters that could harbor parasites or toxins. Camping each night was a ritual of caution. He chose defensible sites - small shallow caves, the space between the massive roots of old trees - and always put out his small campfire (made just for quick cooking or boiling water) before dusk completely, scattering the ashes so as not to leave obvious traces. He slept lightly, the knife always within reach, waking up to the slightest strange sound. His combat training continued, not in formal sessions, but in the constant practice of hunting. He did not actively seek confrontation, but needed food and beast cores for a day, perhaps, to exchange them for resources. It has become proficient in tracking smaller prey. A Tree Serpent was his next victim; he watched her for hours, learning her movement pattern before attacking with a quick and precise blow to her knife, crushing her head before she could fight back with her poisonous bite. He collected the small wood-type beast core and the gallbladder, which, according to the Account, had some smaller medicinal properties if processed correctly. He found a nest of Rock Mice and, instead of attacking from the front, used his intelligence. He blocked the secondary exits of the burrow with heavy stones and then used smoke (from burning damp leaves) to force the creatures out of the main entrance, where he slaughtered them one by one with quick knife blows as they coughed out and disoriented. It was a small carnage, but provided several low-quality earth-type beast cores and enough meat for several days (which he cooked and dried up over a low, smoky fire). Every hunt was a lesson. He learned to aim at vital points, to use the terrain to channel or trap his prey, to conserve his energy and Qi for the decisive blow. His knife skill became more instinctive, his movements more fluid and efficient. It also became more efficient in processing the carcasses, skinning the skins faster, extracting the nuclei without damaging them and identifying the edible parts. The dangers did not come only from the beasts. Once, he almost fell into a hidden swamp, covered by a thin layer of vegetation that looked like dry earth. It was only his quick reaction, clinging to a root at the last second, that saved him from being swallowed by cold, sticky mud. On another occasion, he woke up covered in swollen black leeches after sleeping very close to a stagnant puddle, having to burn them painfully with a coals of his morning fire. The forest was testing him, shaping him. The remaining weakness of his old life was being burned by the constant need for vigilance and effort. Tyrannical Art and the Nine Cycles, practiced whenever he found a safe place for a few hours, continued to strengthen his body and refine his IQ. The wild spiritual energy of the forest, though dangerous, also seemed to nourish its cultivation in a way that the fine IQ of the City of Maplewood could not. His progress at Level 2 of Body Refinement was rapidly consolidating, the base becoming thicker and more stable every day. He was becoming part of the forest, a cautious predator navigating a world of larger predators. The initial arrogance that could have arisen from his reincarnated knowledge was replaced by a healthy respect for danger and a quiet confidence in his growing survival skills. He was still far from his goal, the 100-year-old Ginseng was still a distant mirage, but he was alive, he was learning, and he was getting stronger with each passing day under the misty canopy of the Black Mist Forest.