CHAPTER 13 : WRONG NEIGHBORHOOD

As Zhen ventured deeper into the forest's eerie embrace, a sudden rustle in the underbrush shattered the silence. The air grew tense, pregnant with anticipation, as a solitary wolf emerged from the shadows.

Its sleek, obsidian fur shimmered under the moon's pale light, accentuating the raw power emanating from its sinewy frame. With eyes that gleamed like shards of amber, the wolf locked its gaze onto Zhen.

In that moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath, as if acknowledging the presence of a formidable predator.

"What a luck." he murmured, the words lost in the night's embrace.

With a wry smile, Zhen whispered to himself, "Where there's one, there's always more."

Aware of the danger lurking in the shadows, he scanned the surroundings, his senses heightened by years of survival instincts. "Wolves always hunt in packs," he mused, his voice laced with a hint of wittiness. "Looks like I've stumbled into the wrong neighborhood."

As Zhen stood poised, his heart racing in rhythm with the nocturnal symphony of the forest, the tension thickened like fog around him. From the depths of the foliage, a chorus of low growls rose, punctuating the stillness with an ominous warning.

Out of the darkness, several pairs of gleaming eyes emerged, their fiery glares fixated on Zhen with predatory intent. Shadows coalesced into sinew and fur as the pack of wolves materialized around him, encircling him with calculated precision.

With a steely resolve, Zhen tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade, a glint of defiance in his eyes mirrored by the moon's silvery glow. Though outnumbered, he refused to yield to the primal fear clawing at the edges of his consciousness.

"Come, my lupine brethren," he exclaimed with a voice as steady as the mountains, though his heart pounded like a drum in a storm. "Shall we partake in a dance beneath the very stars that watch over us?" His smile stretched wider than the horizon, brimming with a fervor that defied the imminent peril lurking in the shadows. Instead of succumbing to the grip of fear, he embraced the thrill of the moment, his mind transcending the chaos, each heartbeat a melody of serene resolve.

The situation dripped with mortal peril; hemmed in by a relentless pack of wolves, Zhen banished his fear, steeling himself for a solitary battle against the savage beasts.

With a primal roar, he hurled the lifeless guard's body toward the lead wolf, his resolve a blazing inferno amidst the encroaching darkness. Mind emptied of all but the instinct to survive, he charged headlong at the alpha predator, its predatory gaze locking with his own.

As Zhen closed in on the alpha, the pack surged forth in a frenzied assault, jaws snapping like thunder around him. Yet, in a breathtaking display of audacity, he pivoted mid-stride, tearing open his own abdomen with a savage twist, blood spilling like a scarlet river.

In that heartbeat, amidst the chaos, Zhen's eyes caught sight of a wounded wolf, its fur matted with blood. Without a second thought, he leapt towards the injured predator, a whirlwind of determination and cunning in the face of certain demise.

As the wolf lunged, its jaws agape with fury, Zhen's blade flashed like lightning, piercing through the predator's gaping maw and piercing its brain with a decisive strike. With the wounded wolf vanquished, a tremor of uncertainty rippled through the pack, yet their primal hunger soon reignited into a frenetic frenzy. The metallic tang of blood, seeping from Zhen's torn abdomen, only stoked their insatiable bloodlust further.

With the predator dispatched, a fleeting window of opportunity emerged amidst the encircling wolves. Without hesitation, Zhen seized the moment, darting through the breach and into the tangled depths of the jungle. Yet, the relentless pack was undeterred, their primal instincts driving them to pursue him with unyielding determination.

Through the dense underbrush, Zhen raced, his heart pounding in tandem with the thundering pursuit behind him. Branches whipped and cracked in his wake as he plunged deeper into the wild unknown, the wolf pack hot on his trail, their primal chorus echoing through the ancient woods with each relentless stride.

"Nine," Zhen's thoughts echoed in the darkness of the forest, a chilling realization creeping through his veins like icy tendrils. "One carcass offered as sacrifice, but what chance do I stand against the relentless hunger of the remaining eight, their primal instincts sharpened by the scent of blood?"

Each leap through the shadowed canopy felt like a descent into the abyss, his body a canvas of agony painted with the crimson reminder of his mortality. "Foolish gambit," he hissed through clenched teeth, a bitter cocktail of regret and desperation poisoning his resolve. "To think they would be swayed by mere distraction, when the thrill of the hunt is their very essence."

The gnawing hunger of his wounds gnashed at his consciousness, a relentless reminder of his impending demise. "Blood," he whispered, the word a macabre symphony in the symphony of the night. "With each passing moment, my strength wanes, and once this surge of adrenaline fades, I'll be at Death's mercy, a victim to my own folly."

"Wait," Zhen's breath caught in his throat as his gaze pierced the shadowed canopy, "A waterfall!" A fleeting spark of hope ignited within him, only to be drowned out by the haunting chorus of the pursuing wolf pack.

"Cursed beasts," he spat, venom lacing his words as the predatory symphony continued its relentless pursuit. "Half a kilometer, perhaps," he calculated, his eyes fixated on the distant cascade glimpsed through the dense foliage. "A waterfall means a river, and a river means escape, means survival."

With renewed determination, Zhen propelled himself forward, the rhythmic drumming of his heart matching the cadence of his desperate flight. Yet, as he raced towards the promise of sanctuary, a disquieting stillness settled over the forest, the wolves' haunting cries dwindling to a foreboding silence.

"Strange," Zhen pondered, each leap through the canopy a heartbeat in the cacophony of the unknown. "Wolves, relenting? Unheard of." Suspicion danced on the fringes of his consciousness, a chilling reminder that in the heart of the wilderness, predators lurked beyond the veil of shadows.

Undeterred by the eerie silence that enveloped the forest, Zhen pressed onward towards the beckoning cascade. With every sinew of his being stretched taut with determination, he found himself perched upon a branch, the thunderous roar of the waterfall drowning out the echoes of his own tumultuous thoughts.

Surveying his surroundings with a cautious vigilance, Zhen's gaze swept over the moonlit landscape, his hands instinctively seeking the wound that marked his battered form. Satisfied that no immediate threat lurked in the shadows, he descended from the gnarled embrace of the tree, his feet finding purchase on the damp earth below.

Gone was the guise of a soldier, replaced instead by the visage of a weary wanderer, his once pristine attire now a tattered shroud stained with the crimson testament of his struggle. His white shirt, rent asunder at the seams, bore witness to the ferocity of his ordeal, while his leather pants bore the scars of his flight through the unforgiving wilderness.

Amidst the wreckage of his appearance, one gleaming beacon of resilience remained unscathed: his metal boots, defiant against the encroaching darkness, their luster undiminished beneath the ethereal glow of the moonlit night.

As Zhen drew closer to the waterfall, its grandeur revealed itself in a cascade of moonlit splendor. Though not towering in stature, its gentle descent melded seamlessly into the winding river that meandered beyond the jungle's edge. Bathed in the soft embrace of the moonlight, the waterfall transformed into a tableau of serene beauty, its crystalline waters shimmering with otherworldly grace.

Each droplet seemed to dance in harmonious rhythm with the celestial glow, a symphony of light and water that whispered secrets of the night. As Zhen beheld the tranquil scene before him, a sense of awe washed over him, a momentary respite amidst the chaos that had engulfed his world.

"I will need to clean this body first," Zhen declared, his voice a determined whisper against the rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of the waterfall. As his shirt fell to the ground, the biting cold welcomed him, a harsh reminder of the harshness of his predicament. "How cold it is. I have to get rid of this smell, otherwise, I would die either way," he muttered, acknowledging the urgency of cleansing his blood-stained form.

His fingers grazed the wound on his abdomen, a pang of discomfort accompanying the realization that the seeping blood demanded immediate attention. "This seeping blood has to be dealt with first of all," he continued, a tinge of urgency in his tone.

However, a peculiar intuition swept over him, prompting him to search for something more specific. "I don't know, but it's like my mind is saying to look for a plant, one to three feet tall, fern-like leaves, with a hairy stem," Zhen mused aloud, the uncertainty evident in his voice. "Is this this body's memory?"

With a sense of purpose, he began scanning the moonlit surroundings. "Near the edges of the waterfall," he suddenly exclaimed, the words escaping his lips almost involuntarily.

Confusion clouded his expression as he questioned himself, "What? Why did I say that? Is this really this body's memory?" Yet, undeterred, he followed the guidance, spotting the plant with pink flowers. "Yes, this is it," he confirmed with a sense of revelation, plucking the plant from the ground with a mix of determination and curiosity.

"Alright, before applying it, I guess I'll have to clean myself," Zhen muttered, urgency propelling him towards the river's edge. With a swift motion, he dipped his shirt into the water, wincing as the fabric grazed the raw wound on his abdomen. The searing sensation sent shivers down his spine, a stark reminder of the battle's toll.

Undeterred by the pain, Zhen meticulously cleansed the wound, his jaw set in a grimace of determination. With practiced hands, he crushed the leaves and flowers of the plant, their soothing essence a balm to his battered flesh. 

He then soaked his shirt into the water and after squezzing it multiple times, he tore the shirt into two halves vertically and tied there ends and then like a bandage wrapped it around his body.

"This is not the best, but given the circumstances, it will have to suffice, I even don't know will that balm thing work or not." Zhen reflected, his voice a whisper against the symphony of the rushing river. Seated by the water's edge, he allowed his thoughts to drift, a shadow of unease lingering in the recesses of his mind. "There is something that is bothering me, since the fight with the wolves," he admitted, the weight of uncertainty heavy upon his weary shoulders.

Zhen's mind delved deeper into the enigma that shrouded his recent feats. "Back then, I didn't notice," he murmured, his voice a whisper against the backdrop of the rushing river. "The thrust of the sword in the wolf's mouth, it nearly tore his head clean off. And despite the odds, I outran those wolves, defying their primal ferocity at every turn."

A sense of incredulity tinged his thoughts as he grappled with the implications. "Monstrous strength and speed, greater than those beasts," he marveled, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "It couldn't be simple adrenaline, not in such a dire state."

"How was this body able to do all this?" he pondered aloud, the weight of uncertainty hanging heavy in the air. "Killing two guards, dragging one's body for such a distance, fighting with wolves, and running like a street dog..., even after loosing gallons of blood.... How was this body able to endure, even in such a miserable state?".

As Zhen contemplated the inexplicable surge of strength coursing through his veins, a peculiar sensation kindled in his chest, a flicker of heat that danced with an otherworldly intensity. Yet, as swiftly as it had ignited, the blaze fizzled into nothingness, leaving behind a void that gnawed at his very core.

"Huh?" Zhen's voice cracked with confusion, his chest constricting as if gripped by unseen hands. Panic surged through him, a suffocating embrace that robbed him of breath and reason. "What... what is happening?"

With each passing moment, the numbing embrace of unconsciousness enveloped him, his senses dulled by the onslaught of unseen forces. "My body... it feels numb," he gasped, his voice a fragile echo in the void. "It's like all the pain has assaulted me at once."

In a final, desperate struggle against the encroaching darkness, Zhen's vision blurred, his body betraying him as he tumbled into the icy embrace of the river below, unconsciousness swallowing him whole in its cold, unforgiving grip. As his body drowned, it was evident—he was dead.

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