Chapter Ten: Despair

Was my earlier guess correct, after all?

Previously, Cui Xiu had speculated that the entire mist-shrouded area might be circular, and that if he walked in a straight line from the center toward the edge, he might find an exit. But he hadn't rushed to act on this idea, lacking sufficient evidence. Instead, he made a mental note of his route and then retraced his steps along the path where he'd found the human bones.

He estimated that he had walked for about half an hour before returning once again to the spot where he’d picked up the child’s skull. This outcome made him more confident in his original theory. Yet he couldn’t shake a lingering doubt. As he walked, it seemed less that he was following a planned circular route and more that this place itself subtly influenced his thoughts, guiding him back to where he started without his realizing.

When he first arrived, as he picked up bones suffused with gray mist, it was as if the environment had compelled him. At the time, he hadn’t even considered following a curved path—his only thought had been to keep going straight ahead, with no intent to turn.

This realization troubled him. If his thinking could truly be affected by this place, did it mean he’d never escape, doomed only to circle this strange domain forever?

…

The thought left Cui Xiu uneasy, his expression darkening. He’d thought himself clever, convinced he’d found a way out; now, it all seemed somewhat ridiculous. Still, there was no one here to laugh at him. The real danger was being unable to leave.

What unsettled him further was that, after making another loop, he found no more bones with gray mist—indeed, he saw no bones at all. This only made the fog-shrouded place more bewildering.

…

Unwilling to give up, Cui Xiu drew an imaginary straight line as before and set off toward the edge of the circle. To avoid confusion, he left marks along his route.

He soon discovered the truth: he was indeed walking in circles.

Disheartened, he nonetheless persevered, drawing on the resilience of a man who had survived the workplace in his previous life. He tried again and again…

Until, finally, despair set in.

Time passed without reference, as he couldn’t see the sky outside. Only when the forest grew dim and night seemed to fall did he stop. He could have kept trying—his enhanced night vision, courtesy of his source power, made traveling at night easy enough.

Moreover, it wasn’t truly dark here; though shrouded in mist, some inexplicable force kept the gloom at bay. Still, he didn’t want to go on.

Repeated attempts had proven futile. For the first time, he regretted running into this place to escape his pursuers. Perhaps if he’d fled to a cliff and leapt off, his chances of survival would have been higher. Even if he’d died from the fall, it would have been quicker than starving to death here.

He recalled grim anecdotes from the internet in his former life—starvation was said to be one of the most agonizing ways to die. He’d only been in this world for a month, just finished recovering his health, and hadn’t even had the chance to explore its wonders. Now, death loomed near. Among all the travelers between worlds, he’d probably rank as one of the most pathetic—if not the most.

Sullenly, he slumped against a large tree, staring blankly at the small hollow left behind when he’d taken the child’s skull. He felt lost.

After a while, he placed his bundle on his knees and looked at the bones inside. The gray mist had long since been absorbed, leaving nothing but ordinary, yellowed bones.

“It seems I won’t be able to fulfill my earlier promise. In the end, you’ll remain here, and I’ll join you soon enough.”

The thought that his own bones might soon join this pile filled him with melancholy. Perhaps some of these bones had belonged to people with stories similar to his own.

That led his thoughts to Huzi—he wondered if the other man had followed him in. If so, his fate was likely no better. Was this what they called mutual destruction?

Cui Xiu felt tears prick his eyes.

“Big brother…”

But just as he was lamenting his failed journey, a familiar voice suddenly sounded.

He froze.

…

Liu Hu did not know that Cui Xiu had been thinking of him. His own situation was even more miserable.

His long knife had fallen somewhere nearby. He lay sprawled on the forest floor, muscles twitching with exhaustion, his face pale, as if all strength had left him. The only slight relief was that he’d regained his senses and was no longer consumed by rage.

His eyes, murky and tinged with gray, flickered with regret and despair. Occasionally, anger flashed through them, only to quickly fade.

All around him—visible only to his eyes—countless thin, ragged figures clung to his body, clawing and scratching madly as if trying to tear off pieces of his flesh.

Liu Hu had grown used to these creatures. From initial fury, to anger, to helplessness, and finally to numbness—his mental journey had been tortuous. Though physically drained, he was not yet dead; the specters could not harm him directly, only chill his body and fill his vision, leaving him paralyzed.

He closed his eyes, thinking of Cui Xiu. Regret gnawed at him, though his murderous intent had faded—not out of forgiveness, but exhaustion.

Unlike Cui Xiu, who still had memories of his former life to sustain him, Liu Hu, born of this world, had little hope left. Like the ancients back in Cui Xiu’s world, he believed in ghosts and spirits. He was sure he’d encountered some supernatural force, and all evidence told him that resistance was hopeless.

A man accustomed to death and killing, he knew these things would show him no mercy. Even if they could not harm him directly, he could not escape their influence or act at all. Even with his eyes closed, he could see them crawling over his body, head, and limbs.

“If the gods are so mighty, why do they not save me?” he wondered bitterly.

…

“What’s wrong with this guy?”

Just as Liu Hu, having recovered a bit of strength and ignoring the specters clinging to him, resolved to end his own life, a surprised voice sounded suddenly in his ear. The voice was unfamiliar—not anyone he remembered.