Chapter Twelve: The Mysterious Valley

Sun Licheng now was clean from head to toe. The animal skin he wore had been carefully treated; it was soft and shapely, no longer filthy, foul-smelling, fishy, or stiff as before. His gear had grown far richer: he carried a knife, a spear, a bow and arrows, and a slingshot. For protection, he had added a rattan shield and a rattan helmet. Though these were still somewhat crude, they offered decent defense.

Additionally, Sun Licheng had crafted a leather backpack, in which he kept salt, flint, soap, dried meat, a small torch, and fire-starting grease—enough provisions for several days. With this equipment, his range of activity had greatly expanded; each outing could last three or four days.

He resolved to temporarily forget the Sun Licheng of before, seeking the road home while indulging in the exploration of this world, captivated by its countless wondrous plants and animals and awed by the majestic natural scenery surrounding him.

Since the last time the spotted deer led Sun Licheng to find salt, he had become even more fond of tracking these creatures. Now, once again, he wandered with a herd of spotted deer. He had been traveling for four days, eating, resting, and journeying alongside them. With prolonged contact, the herd gradually accepted him—even the fawn dared approach him to graze.

On this day, the herd led Sun Licheng to a valley. The entrance to the valley was narrow, overgrown with shrubs, and thoroughly concealed by branches, leaves, and weeds. Had he not followed the deer, Sun Licheng would likely have missed it even if he passed nearby.

As natives of the area, the spotted deer quickly found the way into the valley, bounding inside with light leaps. At this, the deity in Sun Licheng's mind wore a grave expression, muttering, “How did he end up here! Pity I can't stop him—how infuriating!” Unable to communicate with Sun Licheng, the deity could only silently watch him press forward.

Upon entering the valley, Sun Licheng felt as if he'd stepped into an entirely new world. The valley was vast and deep. Sheltered by the high mountains flanking it, the frigid plateau winds became gentle here, raising the temperature above that outside and making the climate more pleasant. The vegetation was lush and vibrant.

A river ran through the valley, its waters abundant. Near the mouth of the valley, the river plunged into a large cavern, from which a distant roaring echoed. “So it turns into an underground river. Without the deer, this place really would be hard to find,” Sun Licheng murmured, watching the water vanish into the cave.

By now, the deer herd had run ahead. Sun Licheng was in no hurry; he followed the riverbank deeper into the valley.

This valley was a place of beauty, reminiscent of Earth's Kanas Valley. Underfoot was dense grassland, faintly marked by a path where animals frequently passed. Tall pines and other plateau trees grew among the gray-white rocks. The climate suited them, so most trees bore deep green leaves, which harmonized with the snowy peaks nearby. Under the trees grew many plants; across the verdant meadows, brilliant little flowers bloomed—red, green, blue, purple—bringing vitality to the land. Squirrels leapt among the pines, and melodious birdsong constantly filled the air.

Rounding the base of a mountain, the great river curved and formed a lake about three kilometers long, its clear water shining like a green gem set amidst the mountains. A commotion drew Sun Licheng’s attention: the spotted deer were drinking and frolicking by the shore. A breeze stirred the lake, sending ripples across the surface and lifting multicolored leaves into the air, as if sprites were dancing overhead.

After drinking, the herd, led by the stag, moved away from the lake and headed deeper into the valley. Sun Licheng hurried to follow.

Beyond the lake, the path grew more difficult. The mountains on either side became steeper, and the valley narrowed. With the terrain growing rugged, the river became more turbulent, forming miniature waterfalls, its waters crashing against huge boulders with thunderous noise.

Many dead trees lay across the valley and stream, further hindering progress. The spotted deer, agile and light-footed, bounded through the complex terrain. Sun Licheng followed for a while but soon found himself exhausted. After scrambling over a massive root, the last deer vanished from his sight.

By now, the sun was slanting westward, and shadows crept into the valley.

Climbing halfway up a fallen tree, Sun Licheng gazed into the distance, but could no longer see the herd. He decided to retrace his steps and leave the valley. Just as he was about to descend, a flash of golden light ahead caught his attention.

He adjusted his gear and resolved to investigate. Reaching the golden glimmer, he found himself at the foot of a mountain where the vegetation was especially thick. Using his spear to push aside shrubs and vines, he discovered a patch of stone on the cliff—remarkably smooth and faintly metallic.

In the great meadow, recalling the artificial road he’d seen before, Sun Licheng felt a surge of excitement. This, too, might be the work of some intelligent civilization.

He approached the stone wall cautiously and examined it closely, soon discovering inscriptions etched upon it.

Just as Sun Licheng was rejoicing at his find, a violent disturbance erupted in the thicket behind him—the sound of snapping leaves and branches.

Turning around, he saw a gigantic wild boar.

This boar dwarfed any Sun Licheng had seen in this world. It was covered in dark brown fur, stood nearly one and a half meters tall, and stretched almost three meters in length. Its enormous, fierce eyes glowed red. Two huge tusks, like short swords, jutted from its mouth—scarred and dark purple in places, testament to countless battles with other beasts.

Having spent so long in this world, Sun Licheng had learned that its animals were wild and brutal, often fighting to the death. The wild boar charged at him with reckless abandon; Sun Licheng had no choice but to prepare for battle.

He raised his rattan shield in his left hand to guard his body, gripping his spear ready in his right, his eyes fixed resolutely on the beast.

Seeing Sun Licheng poised to resist, the boar’s cold, glaring eyes bulged even larger, and its tusks protruded further. With a powerful push from its hind legs and spread forelegs, it leapt at Sun Licheng.

Sun Licheng dared not pit his small frame against a beast as formidable as an armored vehicle. At the instant the boar closed in, he rolled forcefully to his right, awkward but successful in evading the attack.

Infuriated by its failed assault, the boar shook its massive head and launched a second attack. This time, Sun Licheng not only dodged but also drove his spear hard into its body.

Though his speed and defense were lacking, Sun Licheng possessed surprising strength. The spear, merely a branch with a carbonized tip, became a formidable weapon in his hands. After landing the blow, he quickly released the spear and drew another from his pack—he had prepared six, knowing how easily spears break during hunting.

Enraged at being wounded by the seemingly weak Sun Licheng, the boar bellowed and charged a third time. Sun Licheng repeated his tactic, leaping aside at the crucial moment. But this time, a sudden rush of wind by his right ear was followed by the boar's iron-like tail striking him and sending him flying.

He tumbled across the ground, barely regaining his senses before the boar bore down again.

Instinctively, he raised his rattan shield to block, but the small shield was no match for the furious beast. With a sharp crack, the shield shattered, its fragments scattering like snowflakes, and Sun Licheng’s left arm and shoulder were pierced through by the boar’s tusks.

Wounded, Sun Licheng’s ferocity was awakened. Ignoring the agony in his left side, he swung his right fist at the boar’s head. The beast did not expect such brute force from a much smaller opponent; several blows left it dizzy and disoriented.

Both man and beast, now fired by rage, battled fiercely. The boar, enduring Sun Licheng’s pummeling, rushed madly through the valley with him in tow. At last, the boar let out a wild roar, tusks pressed to Sun Licheng, and charged toward the cliff, intent on smashing him to death.

With a thunderous crash, Sun Licheng felt a tremendous impact from behind, and blood gushed from his mouth.

Before the boar could celebrate, the cliff face suddenly shattered, revealing a gaping black cave behind, bottomless and dark.

Caught off guard, the boar lost its balance and, together with Sun Licheng, tumbled into the abyss with a wailing cry.

The valley returned to tranquility, birdsong once again ringing out. Aside from the shattered cliff, the battered vegetation, and the shocking scarlet stains on the ground, no one would guess that a fierce life-and-death struggle had just occurred here. When the first snow fell, all traces would be erased—even the cave would be hidden by next year’s bushes and vines, as if nothing had ever happened.