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Sitting in the room with nothing to do, Gao Yang felt terribly idle, and in his boredom, he went through his packed items again to check if anything had been missed.
As he rummaged through his things, Gao Yang indeed found something amiss—his personal knife.
Gao Yang had two cold weapons on him, an axe and a hunting knife.
The axe was Gao Yang's lucky charm, his amulet. He could leave anything behind, but his axe was a must-have. Meanwhile, the hunting knife held a place in his heart no less esteemed than that of his axe.
Gao Yang had deep affection for his hunting knife; it was with this knife, found on a guide following his plane crash, that he had killed his first person. He could say that were it not for his current knife, he would have died in Sudan long ago. Over the three years on the Sudanese Grasslands, he never parted with his knife, relying on it as both a weapon and a tool.