The forest did not move.
Yet Luo Yanxue could feel it.
That subtle pressure in the air.
That instinctive warning rising from the back of his spine.
Something was there.
Not wind.
Not shadow.
Not imagination.
Something alive.
He remained crouched near the riverbank, his fingers wrapped tightly around the crude wooden spear he had sharpened with a stone. His breathing slowed, forced into silence, just like he used to do in hospital when the pain became too much—control it, or let fear take over.
A low sound rolled through the trees again.
Not loud.
Not aggressive.
More like… heavy breathing.
As if a massive chest was slowly drawing in air.
Luo Yanxue's throat tightened.
Big.
Whatever it was, it was big.
He carefully shifted his weight backward, step by step, letting his heel touch the ground first to avoid snapping twigs. The grass beneath his feet was damp, making every movement treacherous.
He did not run.
Running made noise.
Noise attracted attention.
The darkness between the trees thickened. The fading sunlight could no longer reach the forest floor. Only vague outlines of trunks and tangled roots remained.
Then, something moved.
A shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness.
Slow.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
The shape was unclear, but its outline was wrong. Too broad. Too low to the ground. Its head hung forward, and when it inhaled, Luo Yanxue could hear a faint wet sound, like air passing through a throat filled with fluid.
His heart hammered.
A wild boar?
A bear?
He had seen neither in real life, only in documentaries. But his instincts screamed that this was no ordinary animal.
The ground vibrated.
Once.
Twice.
Each step sank deep into the soil.
The thing was coming closer.
Luo Yanxue's grip tightened until his knuckles turned white.
He could not fight it.
This body was thin, weak, barely stronger than a malnourished teenager. His spear was a sharpened stick.
Against something that size, it would be suicide.
Retreat.
Slowly.
He shifted again.
A twig snapped.
The sound was soft.
But in the stillness, it was deafening.
The breathing stopped.
For half a second, the forest held its breath.
Then—
A low growl rolled out, vibrating through the ground.
The shadow surged forward.
Not running.
Charging.
Branches were crushed. Leaves exploded into the air. The darkness itself seemed to be pushed aside by a massive form.
Luo Yanxue's mind went blank for an instant.
Then one thought cut through all fear:
I can't die here.
Not after surviving once.
He turned and ran.
Not blindly.
Toward the river.
Toward open space.
His legs burned. His lungs screamed. Each breath felt like knives scraping his throat. Behind him, the heavy body smashed through undergrowth, closing the distance far too quickly.
The ground shook.
A roar burst out, deep and furious.
He did not look back.
He knew if he did, he would slow.
The river appeared ahead, its surface reflecting the last pale light of dusk.
No bridge.
No hiding place.
Nowhere to climb.
The forest edge ended.
Cliff.
Water.
And behind him—
The sound of something leaping.
Luo Yanxue's foot slipped on wet stone.
He fell forward.
In that single heartbeat, with death breathing down his neck, one instinct rose from the deepest part of his being:
The ring.
The grey land.
The place no one else could reach.
He did not think.
He did not reason.
He clutched the ring and willed himself inside.
The world tore.
Darkness swallowed him.
And the next instant—
Silence.
Endless, heavy silence.
He slammed onto cracked earth, rolling across dry soil. His lungs dragged in air violently, coughing, choking.
The colorless sky loomed above.
The barren land stretched in all directions.
He was inside the ring.
Alive.
For a long moment, he lay there, shaking, heart racing like it would burst. His entire body was soaked in cold sweat.
"I… I made it…"
His voice came out hoarse, broken.
The roar did not follow him.
The forest did not exist here.
Only emptiness.
He pushed himself up slowly, sitting on the ground, trying to steady his breathing.
Then he froze.
Not all was empty anymore.
The patch of land where he had planted grass was no longer a small circle.
It had spread.
The cracked soil around it had darkened, turning into loose earth. Thin green blades swayed gently, forming a small field no larger than a room.
Life.
In the middle of death.
But what made his blood run cold was not the grass.
It was the air.
It felt… thicker.
He could not explain how. Just like the pressure before a storm, when the sky grows heavy and breathing becomes slightly harder.
The world inside the ring was changing.
And he had just brought fear into it.
He lowered his head, pressing his palms against the ground.
"Can that thing… follow me in?"
The thought sent a chill through his spine.
He waited.
Nothing moved.
No shadows.
No breathing.
Only silence.
Slowly, he stood.
If the ring truly isolated this space, then it was his ultimate refuge.
But what if it wasn't perfect?
What if something… learned to follow?
He did not dare test it.
He walked to the edge of the grassy patch and sat down, hugging his knees.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt truly small.
Not weak.
Small.
Like an insect that had accidentally stepped into a giant's path.
He did not know what that creature was.
He did not know if there were more like it.
He did not know how long this fragile safety would last.
All he knew was this:
The world outside was no longer just empty and poor.
It was dangerous.
Lethal.
And he was completely unprepared.
His gaze drifted to the grey horizon.
"If I can grow food here…"
"…maybe I can hide here."
"…maybe I can survive."
But even as he thought that, a disturbing question rose quietly in his mind:
If this place can grow…
Can it also attract things?
Something deep beneath the cracked earth shifted.
So faint it could barely be felt.
Like a sleeping giant turning in its dream.
Luo Yanxue's body stiffened.
The soil under his feet… pulsed.
Once.
Very lightly.
He slowly stood up.
"…That wasn't my imagination, was it?"
The grey sky remained silent.
The grass swayed.
The land breathed.
And somewhere, far beneath the surface of this newborn world, something ancient and vast stirred—drawn not by power, but by life itself.
For the first time, the ring-world was no longer truly empty.
And Luo Yanxue was no longer truly alone.