Chapter 51: The Hunter

Chapter 51: The Hunter

Moonlight poured through the cracks, and two shadows huddled together, putting on a jungle shadow puppet show.

Li Zhiming had passed out, unable to open his eyes, his mind a blur.

Gradually, he felt his body grow incredibly heavy, as if he had fallen into water, tangled in seaweed.

He swam hard, but couldn't budge an inch—just kept sinking deeper.

Huh?

Suddenly.

A savage whale barreled toward him, churning up violent waves.

Li Zhiming panicked and scrambled to escape, kicking his legs furiously, but the whale snapped its jaws around him.

Shit, that hurt.

He cursed under his breath. One look at those fangs and he was scared shitless, flailing desperately toward shore.

He barely broke free, managed a few strokes, and then the whale caught his clothes in its teeth. With a rip, the sea swallowed him whole.

Freezing water slammed into him, knocking the breath out of him as the surface slipped further and further away.

THUD.

The whale hurled him onto a reef. He clung to the rough rock with all four limbs like an octopus, his face scraping raw.

Waves kept crashing into him from behind, hammering his back.

He didn't dare let go, terrified of being washed away, so he clung to that reef like it was his only hope.

Soon, his face was burning with pain.

"Mm..."

He squirmed, trying to save himself, but his hands felt glued in place—he couldn't move them at all.

This was supposed to be a sweet dream, so how the hell had it turned into a nightmare?

The water was freezing, the roar of it filling his ears, his consciousness slipping away.

Cold.

Li Zhiming shivered, goosebumps rising.

Then, the warm seaweed sprouted legs, crawled over him, and wrapped him up tight, warming him right up.

Something else had joined him—the weight pressing down got heavier.

An octopus?

Oh hell no.

Li Zhiming let go and bolted, swimming for shore like his life depended on it.

The next second, the octopus yanked his leg, dragging him back down. He slammed against the reef again, tentacles wrapping around his limbs.

Down below, the octopus's tentacles casually pushed the seaweed aside, opening up a gap.

It felt cold.

He couldn't see it, but if he could, he'd probably look like a frog in that position.

Too bad even the breaststroke wasn't going to save him now.

He was drowning, and there was nothing he could do.

Li Zhiming instinctively tried to squirm away, but he was pinned down tight. Nowhere to run. His brow furrowed.

He wasn't happy about it.

That instinctive frown pissed the octopus off. It thought about how he'd been acting lately, and the sheer joy he'd shown today, and its anger boiled over.

The octopus went berserk.

The sea churned like crazy. Li Zhiming's mouth hung open, and saltwater forced its way down his throat.

"Ugh..."

He gagged a few times, more seawater flooding his airway.

Goodbye, beautiful world.

He stopped fighting it.

The octopus wasn't about to let the human who'd finally dropped in die that fast.

The octopus breathed air into him, and consciousness came flooding back.

Then—

"Ah!!"

He screamed—like the octopus had impaled him, like it was trying to kill him.

He'd rather have drowned.

Veins bulged on his slender neck. He gasped like a drowning man, sweat beading on his pale face and mixing with the seawater.

It was agony.

The vicious octopus paused for a second, but the thrill of the game still pumped through it.

In that moment, it owned this defiant human—could twist him into any shape it wanted, drag him deeper into the nightmare.

The last fog in his mind burned away.

Li Zhiming gasped, his deadened nerves slowly coming back to life.

"Help... someone... help..."

Somebody save me, pull me out of here.

Those fangs were still chasing him from behind—whatever the hell that thing was, it was scarier than a tiger.

"...help... ngh..."

Li Zhiming swam desperately, swimming for his life to escape the danger.

He barely surfaced, gasping for fresh air, only to have a hand grab him and pull him back under.

This life-and-death struggle went on for about half an hour.

The man on the brink of death gradually grew accustomed to the bizarre pain and suffocation, and even... felt something else? It wasn't as unbearable as before.

But before he could fully adapt, a creature suddenly emerged and bit him.

"No..."

Li Zhiming jolted awake from the nightmare, drenched in cold sweat, his breathing ragged.

Opening his eyes, he saw a figure looming over him, godlike, looking down at him as he struggled.

Li Zhiming's pupils contracted.

The fear from the nightmare still lingered, and his body was trembling.

Sang Yu smiled with a knowing, half-smile: "The young master is awake?"

Li Zhiming, catching on belatedly, flew into a rage and cursed: "Fuck you, get the hell away!"

Sang Yu paused.

Then he chuckled lightly: "The young master's temper is so fiery. That's not good."

Li Zhiming tried to choke him, but he had no strength left, his mind still dizzy, as if he'd drunk cheap liquor, his whole body floating, his brain half-numb.

"Get the hell out!!"

"Is the young master unhappy?"

"Get the hell out, you hear me? I'll count to three—don't push me!"

Sang Yu curled his lips, grabbed his wrist tightly, and twisted it back hard, eliciting a squeal like a stuck pig, his face turning white from pain.

"What did the young master just say?"

Li Zhiming, enduring the pain and humiliation, defiantly shouted: "I said get the hell off me, don't make me fucking kill you!"

Even if it means we both die.

Sang Yu tightened his grip even more, bending Li Zhiming's arm into a twisted angle, the bones audibly cracking.

With a little more force, it would probably snap.

A dense, piercing pain shot through him, excruciating.

Soon, Li Zhiming gave in: "I said nothing, big brother, I said nothing. Spare me, I beg you, big brother."

Sang Yu let go, looking perfectly good-natured.

Li Zhiming felt like his heart was about to explode.

This bastard.

"Sang Yu!!!"

Li Zhiming roared in fury, wrenching his hand free, and with all his remaining strength threw a punch backward, hitting Sang Yu's shoulder, causing him to grunt in pain.

But he himself was trembling from the pain too—a classic case of hurting the enemy by a thousand while losing eight hundred of his own.

Behind his ear came a teasing, flippant voice.

Before he could react or protest, the world spun wildly, as if the water in his brain was being shaken out, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

Shit.

Li Zhiming viciously cursed this bastard, but gradually, the curses faded, replaced by desolation and pain.

He wept tears of bitter sorrow.

This was probably just a dream—how could Sang Yu, that King of Hell, deign to fight someone like him?

And he looked so serious; this wasn't something he could ever fake.

Holding onto that last shred of hope, Li Zhiming passed out.

He was utterly humiliated.

Not only could he not beat Sang Yu, he barely even had a chance to fight back before his head lolled to the side in a spectacular fashion, not knowing up from down, or what year it was.

(Nothing left, and this still doesn't pass?????? What else is the problem here?)