Chapter Eight: By the Great River

Water holds extraordinary significance for humanity. The moment Sun Licheng caught sight of the great river, he was overcome with an urge to weep. For days in the forest, he had longed for a taste of sweet, fresh water, and even more so for a thorough, satisfying bath.

With a cheer, Sun Licheng leapt and waved his arms, dashing toward the river. At its bank, he plunged his head into the water and drank deeply, relishing its coolness. The river water was so sweet and refreshing, far surpassing any bottled spring water on Earth.

When he finally raised his head, he noticed a green-faced monster staring back at him from the clear water. His heart tensed, but he soon realized—this was his own reflection. A long face, a Mohawk crown of fine, golden-blond hair fluttering in the wind, and a pair of pointed ears gave him an unusual, exotic look. Below, slender, arched brows and large, sapphire-blue eyes—sharp and resolute—lent him an air of determination. A prominent aquiline nose gave his features a rugged cast, and his mouth, somewhat exaggerated, revealed rows of jagged, sharp teeth when opened. With his colorful fur, he looked every inch the wild creature of a foreign, primordial land.

His appearance, he thought, was much better than he had feared. Though no one would call him handsome, he was far from grotesque. To his surprise, his hair was thick enough, and though styled in a way reminiscent of a Western Plains Indian, at least he hadn’t turned into one of those green-skinned, bald-headed goblins so common in games.

“A goblin, then. At least I’m not hideous. They say goblins have a bit of elven blood in them, too,” Sun Licheng muttered, trying to reassure himself.

He was grateful he hadn’t transmigrated into the tragic form of that infamous second brother, doomed from birth with a deficit of ten thousand fate points. Had he become that second brother, he was certain he wouldn’t have survived to grow a pig’s snout before being butchered for meat.

Of course, Sun Licheng was only human and harbored his own grievances. “Other transmigrators become kings and conquerors, or at least tall, rich, and handsome. Even the ordinary ones punch villains and kick bullies, making a name for themselves. Me? I’m a short, ugly goblin—such is fate,” he sighed.

But however much he resented it, reality was reality, and as the saying goes, “You still have to eat, and life must go on.” Thanks to his wealth of life experience, Sun Licheng quickly came to terms with it.

“Looked at in this light, I’m not that ugly—at least better looking than a one-eyed ogre,” he said, admiring his reflection in the water with a foolish grin.

...

By now, it was nearly noon, and the weather was fine. On the plateau, the air was thin and the clouds sparse. The gentle sunlight warmed Sun Licheng, making him feel cozy.

Rested, Sun Licheng set to work at once—he needed to build a forward base. No one could predict the weather on the plateau; bright sun could give way at any moment to a deluge of freezing rain. He remembered the sudden downpour of a few days before with dread. Even with the trees for shelter, the torrential rain and howling wind left the world bleak and cold, the chill seeping to his bones. The dark sky pressed low overhead, and the sheeted rain lashed the land like a beast’s roar.

He had no wish for another storm to ruin his good mood. At the very least, he needed a place to live.

After a lengthy search, Sun Licheng found a small hillside by the river, nestled between a nearby hill, a grove of trees, and the broad river itself. The spot was not only close to water, but easily defensible. The natural barriers would ward off wild beasts, and the hill and woods would blunt the plateau’s cold winds. He was very pleased with the site and decided to erect a simple shelter there.

First, he needed a framework. His bone knife, razor-sharp for skinning magical beasts, worked just as well at sawing small trees, though it was a bit awkward for the task. Before long, Sun Licheng had cut down several saplings, stripped their branches, and dragged them out of the woods.

The forest vines were tough as cables. With his newfound strength, Sun Licheng tugged hard, but couldn’t snap them. “Excellent material!” he exclaimed in admiration.

Though the vines were incredibly strong, Sun Licheng’s sharp bone knife and great strength made short work of them, and soon he’d cut a large coil. The vines were too thick to use as they were, so he split them into strips with his knife and twisted two strands together to make ropes.

The largest leaves here were only palm-sized, unsuited to building a tropical-style grass hut; his options were limited to a wooden shack or a sunken earth-shelter like those in northeastern China. For now, the earth-shelter was his only choice.

Seeing this, Sun Licheng gave a wry smile. “Goblins in games always live in these earth-huts. Who’d have thought my first house in another world would be the same? When I have time, I’ll build a proper house!”

With renewed determination, he clenched his fist and resumed work.

Compared to a grass hut or a wooden cabin, an earth-shelter was simple to build. He only needed to lash the framework together with wood and rope, then cover it with leaves or bark.

Sun Licheng returned to the forest, searching for stout trees. With his bone knife, he carefully peeled off large sheets of bark. After simple processing, he laced them together with rope and laid them over the frame to form the roof. This not only made for a longer-lasting shelter, but one easy to repair and replace. He took only a small patch from each tree, causing them little harm.

Lacking real construction experience, building this earth-shelter took Sun Licheng most of the day. By the time he fixed the last sheet of bark in place, the sun was slanting west, and the sky was ablaze with red.

Though unimpressive in appearance, the shelter worked remarkably well: it kept out wind and rain and held in warmth. Crawling inside, Sun Licheng found that apart from being a bit cramped, it had few flaws.

To make it sturdier, he hauled a load of river stones and ringed the shelter’s base, reinforcing the foundation.

With a roof over his head, Sun Licheng set about making a proper fire pit.

By the time the campfire blazed, night had fallen. Hunting was out of the question, so he roasted some plants he’d gathered in the woods. For a hearty eater, it was barely enough to line his stomach.

After eating, Sun Licheng took out the straight saplings he had prepared. He sharpened one end into a spear point, then hardened it over the fire. The finished spears were tough and economical weapons, suitable for hunting small animals.

Knowing how easily wooden spears broke, Sun Licheng made three, sharpening each as much as possible. When he finished, he was hungry again, but all the food was gone.

With an empty stomach, he lay down in his earth-shelter, resolved to try fishing in the river come morning.

...

At dawn, Sun Licheng went to the river to spear fish. The river looked vast, but in this stretch, there were few big fish, making hunting difficult. He planned to weave some vine baskets later to see if he could catch minnows and shrimp.

Following the river downstream, he discovered that below a waterfall, the current slowed and fish grew more plentiful. But here lurked a kind of giant black fish: fierce, carnivorous, fast, and able to surge far onto land. As he walked the bank, one nearly bit him. Thus, hunting the river for food was no longer an option.

The presence of these giant black fish made Sun Licheng realize just how dangerous this world was.

Perhaps in Earth’s distant past, the environment had been just as harsh, humanity menaced by countless dangers and challenges. But after millions of years of slaughter and transformation, untold species were driven extinct, impassable barriers became thoroughfares, and the whole planet was tamed for humanity’s use.

Here, everything remained in its primal state. Ferocious beasts still roamed, and one careless step could mean disaster. The memory of the eagle that had swooped from the sky made him shudder.

With fishing ruled out, Sun Licheng set his sights on bird nests.

Gazing at the flocking birds in the woods, his appetite surged. “So many nests, there must be eggs inside!” He could almost taste them.

But dreams are sweet, and reality is harsh.

There were indeed many birds and nests, with plenty of eggs and even chicks. But the birds here were ferocious.

The trees on this plateau grew to monumental heights, and the nests were perched as high as possible. Climbing was a trial, and the birds attacked him with wild fury. In a life-or-death struggle to defend their homes and young, they clawed and pecked, hurled huge stones, and even, as he neared a nest, chose to destroy it rather than let him have the prize.

With a scream, Sun Licheng tumbled from a lofty treetop, shaken so hard he thought his insides would burst. The egg he’d managed to grab was smashed to bits.

It was his fourth fall from a great height—each one a disaster, with almost nothing to show for it.

After a long while, he staggered to his feet. Looking at the ruined egg in his hand, he nearly burst into tears.

“You damned creatures, fine, I won’t eat your eggs! But just wait—one day I’ll wipe out every last bird in this forest!” he shouted, hobbling away.

Thus ended his second attempt at meat—raiding bird nests, a complete failure.

...

Third attempt at meat: hunting!

To survive among the beasts here, Sun Licheng had to upgrade his weapons. He crafted a bow, with sharp magical beast teeth for arrowheads, but his archery was abysmal—ten shots, and only one or two hit the target.

With no other option, he turned to javelins. To increase their power, he fashioned a spear-thrower: a long stick with a backward hook, effectively extending his arm for greater leverage. By drilling a hole in the spear’s butt end, he could hook it onto the thrower. This increased the range and force, and the javelin’s flight became steadier thanks to a bit of spin and wobble.

With a thunk, a wooden spear punched through a sapling as thick as a bowl. After practicing, Sun Licheng mastered the key techniques.

“Too bad I can’t carry more—they take up too much space,” he muttered, pulling the spear free and inspecting its tip.

Javelins were much bulkier than arrows, and he could only carry six at most on an expedition.

Fully prepared, Sun Licheng now possessed two stone knives, a magical beast bone knife, a magical beast bone tool that could serve as a shovel, ten hardwood throwing spears, and a spear-thrower. For protection, he’d reworked his magical beast pelt for better coverage, and made a backpack to carry his quarry.

Armed and ready, Sun Licheng set off to explore.

He passed the waterfall and followed the river for most of the day, growing hungry as he went. Climbing a low hill to survey the surroundings, he glanced southwest and his eyes widened—a vast alpine meadow stretched before him.

Delighted, he bounded down the hill and soon stood at the meadow’s edge. The air was moist, the distant sound of the river murmured behind him, and tender shoots poked through the wet soil at his feet, sprinkled with tiny, multicolored flowers. The scene filled him with peace and joy.

There were rabbits here—big rabbits—lots of big rabbits!