Chapter 48: Section 49: Unbearable Hunger and Thirst


    By the afternoon, the sunlight was no longer as scorching as at noon, but it was still unbearable.


    A young boy slowly climbed toward the top of a low dune.


    He started his climb from the back of the dune, clearly intending to cross it.


    He had a sword in his hand with a wooden handle and a peculiar blade, full of crudely made sense. The boy was using this longsword as a crutch to assist his movement.


    The boy was slim and not very muscular.


    He wore hemp undergarments, long pants, and long sleeves, yet his feet were bare.


    ...


    A layer of clothing also covered his head, his nose and mouth were well concealed, but his eyes were largely exposed, along with the golden hair on his forehead.


    It was Zhenjin.


    The top of the dune was only a few steps away. The sunlight caused Zhenjin to squint his eyes.


    He deliberately exposed his eyes, knowing that he must maintain good visibility. All the while, he also mobilized his hearing, smell, and touch, vigilant of predators that might attack at any time.


    The sunlight was dazzling, and the sunbeams still created spots in Zhenjin’s squinted eyes.


    Zhenjin didn’t directly cross over; instead, he paused near the top of the dune until his eyes had fully adjusted, then he continued to cross.


    Perceiving no danger, Zhenjin stood at the top of the dune and looked far into the distance.


    The desert before him was flat, unlike the undulating dunes behind him.


    The boy couldn’t help but sigh.


    This meant he had to endure a tough trek under the torment of the sunlight.


    The boy’s eyes were also quite captivating, a shade of azure, like the sky after rain. A fleeting confusion in his eyes was quickly replaced by determination.


    “Keep moving.”


    Zhenjin said to himself. Suddenly, his blue eyes brightened.


    “There’s food!”


    Having cultivated Fighting Energy, his physical condition far surpassed ordinary people. He spotted a spider not far away, rolling down the dune with the wind.


    Zhenjin quickly hurried down and without much effort, successfully caught the spider.


    The spider was about the size of two adult thumbs put together, its body yellow-brown, closely resembling the color of the sand, but still discovered by Zhenjin’s keen vision.


    The spider had eight legs, all curled up, making its body into a ball. Then, with the wind, the spider could easily roll down the dunes.


    It would have been much harder for it to move by unfolding its legs and walking.


    In this resource-poor desert, every life form has its unique survival tactics. Conserving physical strength is undoubtedly a significant aspect of this.


    Zhenjin pinched off the spider’s head, then shook his hand to clean the sand grains off the spider’s body.


    Afterwards, he directly put the spider into his mouth and continuously chewed it with his teeth, grinding it into fine pieces. Then, with a swallow, he completely sent it down into his stomach.


    Removing the small spider’s head was to eliminate the poison. Of course, such a weak Life Breath is incomparably different from the Bronze Level, and even if it were poisonous, it wouldn’t kill at least a Silver Level Zhenjin. However, the young man did not want to add any other burden to his body.


    The taste of the spider wasn’t very pleasant. Without roasting and devoid of any seasoning, Zhenjin’s mouth, throat, and nasal cavities were filled with a strange flavor.


    The spider’s joints were rather crunchy, resembling dry, skinny branches.


    Zhenjin savored the crunchiness, which was somewhat similar to that of other small insects.


    This little spider wasn’t the first one to serve as food for him.


    Along the way, he had also sporadically encountered a few others.


    There were spiders, scorpions, and others whose names he couldn’t identify—all decapitated spiders and tailless scorpions ended up in Zhenjin’s stomach.


    With each meal, he felt a nauseating urge to vomit.


    But he would never underestimate these small lives. sea??h thё novёlF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He was very clear that these small creatures were crucial supplies of water and food.


    Having walked through the desert for half a day, Zhenjin had realized: he hadn’t encountered any edible plants, but it was easier to find small creatures.


    The meat from these creatures was scant, but most valuable was the water they provided to Zhenjin.


    Zhenjin cherished this food deeply.


    Although these morsels were very small, their cumulative effect might become his reliance for successfully leaving the desert later.


    “If I don’t cherish this food, maybe I’ll barely miss out on succeeding in getting out of here and eventually fall in the desert.”


    “I really hope to encounter a cactus,” Zhenjin sighed inwardly.


    He had encountered a few sparse plants along his journey.


    Unfortunately, none were cacti.


    These plants were also small and low, and Zhenjin didn’t know what varieties they were or whether they were edible.


    He had tried.


    Carefully avoiding the sharp, needle-like branches and leaves, he found that the plants’ roots were deeply embedded in the desert’s depths.


    Such roots allowed the plants to absorb scant moisture from beneath the desert’s surface, but they also posed challenges for Zhenjin in terms of excavation.


    After trying, Zhenjin wisely and decisively chose to give up.


    Even if he could dig them up, these plant roots might not be food. Zhenjin didn’t know the species of these plants.


    Often, he had to calculate the expenditure and potential gain, patiently comparing the results, and then calmly think and make decisions on what to abandon and what to keep.


    Obviously, the risk of recklessly digging up an unknown plant was too great!


    Eventually, Zhenjin chose to give up.


    This choice was actually very difficult.


    Every time he left a desert plant behind, Zhenjin fell into a kind of doubt—had he made a mistake? Perhaps it was an arrangement by the gods to help him escape his predicament, but he chose to give up.


    Zhenjin felt like a student in an academy, taking a test that concerned his life and death, endlessly answering questions, with no one to provide the correct answers for each.


    As time went on, the sun slowly set in the west.


    By evening, the sunlight resembled a rough man who had vented all his anger through violent beatings; now, his curses and blows were feeble, creating an illusion of tenderness.


    The temperature in the air also became suitable, but it was still exceptionally dry, so Zhenjin consciously quickened his step.


    He needed to cover as much ground as possible during this time to compensate for earlier losses.


    As the sun gradually sank below the horizon, the afterglow and the sunset at the edge of the sky looked breathtaking.


    But such scenery, Zhenjin had no heart to appreciate.


    He only felt it was like a notice or a warning from the sun—kid, I’m letting you off for now. Tomorrow, I’ll continue to torment you!


    Then, the temperature rapidly dropped, decreasing very quickly.


    Zhenjin began to feel his clothes were too thin, a strong chill came over him, causing him to shiver uncontrollably.


    The young man couldn’t help but feel a slight sinking in his heart.


    The temperature difference in the desert was greater than he had previously estimated.


    For him, this was also a test.


    “Although I can still endure it now, as my physical condition deteriorates later on, this shift in temperature might become a deadly noose around my neck.”


    This was a potential future threat; what the young man now desperately needed to address was his thirst and hunger.


    His hunger and thirst were even more severe than when he had first awakened.


    The small creatures he found along the way could hardly satisfy his hunger. In fact, instead of food, they seemed more like a psychological comfort.


    Fortunately, Zhenjin had not encountered any attacks from formidable predators during his daytime journey. Unfortunately, this also meant he had missed opportunities to gather substantial food.


    At that moment, he still wore a special “scarf” around his neck—the body of the desert viper he had killed earlier.


    The young man affectionately stroked the snake scales with his fingers.


    The touch felt cold at his fingertips, but this coldness transformed into warmth inside him.


    This was the only food Zhenjin had left, and he chose to preserve it.


    On one hand, as long as he had it, there was hope in Zhenjin’s heart.


    On the other hand, Zhenjin was also wary of the risk. Eating a large amount of food recklessly would also consume the water in his body.


    That the viper was venomous was a secondary concern.


    The viper’s anatomy ensured its venom glands were confined to the head. Once the head was removed, it was essentially venom-free.


    Given Zhenjin’s physique, even if he was poisoned, he wouldn’t fear the venom of such a common wild creature.


    “But it’s best to cook it over a fire. After all, this island is weird and dangerous, and shouldn’t be viewed as normal. Perhaps the snake’s whole body is venomous? If so, my current situation is akin to voluntarily placing the Death God’s scythe on my neck.”


    When the sunlight completely vanished from the skyline, night fell.


    “The day has passed,” Zhenjin gazed at the vast and deep sky, feeling bewildered and panic rising in his heart again.


    His current situation was dangerous and difficult.


    During the day, the sunlight he despised and hated actually provided him with good visibility. But in the darkness now, more predators would emerge.


    Zhenjin took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.


    Then he joyfully discovered that he had indeed succeeded!


    With the first trial, he seemed to have made a qualitative leap in stabilizing his emotions.


    He didn’t even need to pray.


    Now, he could maintain his calm on his own.


    Of course, he was also well aware of what praying would yield. As for the Holy Emperor responding to him, he hardly had any hope left.


    In the deep night, the temperature was very low, exhaling clouds of white breath from Zhenjin’s mouth and nose.


    The cold was bone-chilling.


    His hunger intensified, tormenting the young man.


    His stomach had long been protesting, making rumbling sounds.


    But more than hunger, the feeling of thirst prevailed.


    Zhenjin felt as though his throat was smoking; if there was a lake, he would have wished to immerse himself entirely in it and drink satisfyingly.


    His water replenishment was too little.


    Zhenjin had originally pinned his hopes on certain desert plants, but that hope had been dashed.


    He hadn’t even seen the shadow of a cactus.


    Tonight was moonless, and the sky was filled with stars.


    Zhenjin looked up at the starry sky, feeling the starlight transmitting heartlessness and indifference, as if observing him slowly walking toward his doom.


    He tried hard to identify and prove his direction based on the stars, but he failed.


    In this regard, he had no experience and was completely ignorant.


    Because of the correct strategy during the day, he still had plenty of energy left.


    The young man continued to trek alone in the desert under the starry night.


    Unconsciously, sand dunes began to appear again beside Zhenjin.


    “What is that?” In his blurred vision, Zhenjin spotted a beastly silhouette perched halfway up a sand dune.