Chapter 108: Narrowly Escaping Death (7,000 Words Updated, Please Support with Monthly Votes)

“Let’s go,” Zhong Yun said suddenly. “I refuse to wait here to die.”

Zhang Xiao nodded silently.

Waiting in place or searching while traveling offered roughly the same odds, but the two choices were fundamentally different. Waiting was passive; as time slowly slipped away, the suffocating despair could drive a person mad. Searching was active, albeit equally desperate. Zhong Yun would rather die while actively seeking hope than passively awaiting death.

Perhaps having come to terms with this, Zhong Yun, breaking his previous silence, began to speak more. He asked Zhang Xiao, “Are you a virgin?”

Zhang Xiao was momentarily stunned, then understood. “No, I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Who was your first…”

In the vast cosmos, a tiny escape pod was drifting alone, so small it was almost negligible. To conserve energy, the pod cleverly used the gravitational pull between planets to navigate, only activating its engine when it deviated from its trajectory.

One month passed, then two…

Hope of rescue grew ever more elusive, yet Zhong Yun and Zhang Xiao refused to give in. Until the very last moment, neither would relinquish hope.

Five months slipped by. The pod’s energy reserves were nearly depleted; Zhong Yun estimated they had at most ten days left. Simultaneously, their food supplies were almost gone.

They were utterly trapped in despair.

“You shouldn’t have saved me,” Zhang Xiao sighed after finishing the last compressed high-energy ration.

“At least we don’t have to eat that awful stuff anymore,” Zhong Yun managed a faint smile.

“If it were just you alone, maybe you could hold out until rescue,” Zhang Xiao said seriously, looking at him.

Zhong Yun glanced at the energy meter flickering in the hundreds. He smiled faintly. “If you weren’t here, I probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

Zhang Xiao fell silent. In the boundless universe, the most terrifying thing was not despair itself, but the crushing loneliness when you are utterly alone—just the sound of your own heartbeat, no other voice, no other sign of life.

The whole world was silent. So silent it suffocated. So silent it could drive you mad.

Undeniably, their ability to endure five months owed most to the presence of the other. Alone, Zhang Xiao doubted he could have survived this long.

Eight more days passed. Hunger and thirst became their fiercest enemies. Although they had endured such trials in training, they were now near their limit.

To conserve energy, Zhong Yun entered a state akin to suspended animation, while Zhang Xiao lost consciousness.

Suddenly, the escape pod emitted a beeping sound; the engine lights dimmed. The remaining energy was enough only to maintain air and temperature inside the pod.

The pod coasted through space for half a day, then was caught by a gravitational force that pulled it off its original course. After circling several times, the combined pull of several bodies directed the pod toward a brilliant blue planet.

Entering the atmosphere, strong vibrations awakened Zhong Yun; his heartbeat and body temperature slowly returned to normal.

“Entering atmosphere, please prepare for landing…” the system announced.

Straps suddenly extended from the seats, securing the two men firmly.

A thunderous roar followed.

---

Amid intense shaking, Zhong Yun opened his eyes. The hatch slowly opened. Seeing this, his heart nearly stopped—it really was the end.

Yet after a while, the suffocating feeling he feared did not come. Zhong Yun could hardly believe it—were they truly saved?

Gradually accepting the reality, he trembled as he tried to undo his restraints several times, failing. After some time, he finally freed himself and stood, staggering slightly and steadying himself against the pod’s wall. His body was too weak.

Leaning on the armrest, he dragged himself toward the hatch. A wave of heat hit him, followed by the dry, familiar scent of dust.

This place was…

Zhong Yun poked his head outside. A blinding light struck him; he quickly shut his eyes. Though they burned and stung, he felt nothing else. He stood dazed.

His heart seemed about to burst. The joy of rebirth surged through every limb and fiber, lingering long and deep.

He stood there, stunned. Time passed unknown. Only when the burning on his face roused him did he open his eyes. The sunlight slanted through the open hatch.

Peering out, he saw a golden expanse stretching to the horizon, shimmering like an endless ocean of gold spread across the earth.

The heat distorted the air, and distant shapes shimmered and shifted.

A desert? Zhong Yun’s heart sank. God, don’t play me like this!

At their lowest point, they had stumbled onto a planet suitable for human habitation. He had barely begun to savor the relief of survival before plunging again toward the brink of death.

Even in peak health, without water and food, survival in a desert was short-lived. Now, weakened as he was—

Unless the pod could still fly.

Zhong Yun climbed out of the pod. A scorching heat wave crashed over him. Inside the heat-shielded pod, he had not felt it, but outside, the extraordinary heat was unbearable. Simply moving from inside to out covered his brow with fine sweat.

His boots sank slightly into the soft sand, then stepped down firmly, sinking again. Hot sand spilled over the tops of his boots.

A few steps forward, the relentless heat was unbearable; every breath felt as if his airways were aflame.

Dizzy, Zhong Yun hastily activated his protective suit. Unlike normal clothes, the suit became bulky when worn open. It provided radiation shielding and had a built-in circulation system that allowed survival in space for half an hour.

The suit’s insulation was excellent; inside, he did not feel suffocated. Looking around, the desert’s edge was nowhere in sight.

Turning, his eyes froze.

Behind the pod was a sand trench hundreds of meters long, gouged out during landing. Not far beyond was a “forest.”

Yes, a “forest.” Zhong Yun looked several times to be sure.

His legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the sand. Fate had not abandoned him.

Suddenly remembering something, he scrambled up anxiously and dashed back to the pod. The cumbersome open suit tripped him twice; frustrated, he stowed it away.

He climbed in quickly and saw Zhang Xiao, unconscious but breathing. Zhong Yun hurriedly untied the ropes binding him and laid him down. Opening his eyelids, he noticed his pupils beginning to dilate.

Time was critical. Zhong Yun lifted Zhang Xiao into his arms and turned.

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine—a deadly sense of danger surged from his heart.

At the hatch, a needle-like spike glowing with eerie blue light silently extended inward.

---

Within half an hour of arriving on this unknown planet, weak Zhong Yun and unconscious Zhang Xiao became captives of a tribe of savages.

Indeed, savages—tall figures clad only in green loincloths covering their essentials.

They looked human but with pale green skin, pronounced facial features, and long green hair on their arms that appeared frightening.

Zhong Yun was restrained by two men each nearly a head taller, while Zhang Xiao was carried on another’s shoulders like a child.

Initially, Zhong Yun thought he was doomed and, embracing a kill-or-be-killed attitude, attacked the natives first. But his weakened body soon succumbed after felling only one.

Surprisingly, the natives did not kill him but took him prisoner. Zhong Yun was puzzled—these savages appeared uncivilized. What use was a prisoner? Slavery?

More astonishingly, a dozen or so natives lifted the escape pod—nearly a hundred square meters in floor area, and over three hundred cubic meters in volume—and carried it off like a war trophy, howling with excitement.

Regardless, survival was the greatest fortune. After so many close calls, Zhong Yun had become numb, further convinced he would not die so easily.

Perhaps impatient with his pace, minutes later two men each seized one of Zhong Yun’s arms, lifting his feet off the ground. The pair strode swiftly across the fine sand as if on level ground.

Zhong Yun took the opportunity to rest—not due to fatigue but hunger. No matter how much he rested, his strength was nearly gone. Even his internal energy was nearly depleted.

The group marched for half an hour. The “forest” was now clearly visible. Zhong Yun was unsure if these were trees or some other form of plant.

These plants were unfamiliar. At first glance, they appeared tall, like a series of umbrellas connected together, smallest at the top, growing larger downward.

These “umbrella trees” were sparse at the desert’s edge but grew denser inward, forming a green sea stretching as far as the eye could see.

Zhong Yun glanced back—the endless golden desert lay behind them. An invisible boundary seemed to divide the golden sea of death from the verdant sea of life.

They stood right on this dividing line. Nature’s wonders were indeed mysterious—a planet where such a phenomenon could exist.

After another ten minutes, the group neared the “umbrella forest,” and Zhong Yun finally saw the trees clearly. Tall was his immediate impression. Each tree was over twenty meters, with the lowest umbrella-like layer ten meters above the ground.

Entering the forest brought refreshing coolness. These umbrella trees provided excellent shade, their layered canopies blocking the scorching sun and bringing relief.

The trees were spaced widely—ten meters or more apart—with massive umbrella-shaped leaves covering roughly a ten-meter radius, making the forest feel open and spacious.

They walked for an unknown length of time. Zhong Yun worried deeply about Zhang Xiao’s condition; his endurance was weaker, and how long he could hold on was uncertain.

However, the angle prevented Zhong Yun from seeing the native carrying Zhang Xiao, which only fueled his anxiety. Finally, he could not contain himself.

“Hey! How’s my friend? I’m talking to you. If anything happens to him, I won’t let you off…”

A sharp retort silenced Zhong Yun. The situation was beyond him; life and death rested in others’ hands, and cooperation was the only path.

He gazed into the deep forest, his heart uneasy. After so many struggles for survival, what fate awaited him and Zhang Xiao?

P.S. That’s today’s update. If you have a monthly ticket, please cast your vote for me. I’m not greedy—just aiming to break into the top ten for new works.