The Wasteland (The End)
Mi turned the boat around and immediately retreated. Four flashes of light from the blades left four streaks in the water, and more fish floated belly-up on the surface. Mi quickly moved further away from the two boats. The knives in their hands were sharp weapons; their knives could kill aquatic creatures without even touching the water.
A swarm of fish floated around the two boats. One of the men couldn't resist putting down his knife and grabbing fish from the water with his bare hands. The other three men, after watching for a while, were also drawn by the fish and put down their knives. The two men at the bow picked up oars and rowed the boat towards the area with more fish. Mi quietly took two steps forward. Soon, the man rowing the boat stood up again, chattering loudly to the men on the other boat. The four men stopped what they were doing and took out spears from their hold—a black, three-pronged harpoon with sharp claws. The hold was full of fish: round, black bodies, plump heads, bellies turned upwards, the wounds from the harpoon revealing scarlet entrails. There were also large, crocodile-like creatures that Mi had seen earlier, their white bellies turned upwards, some not quite dead yet, their tails weakly striking the gunwale, causing the small boat to rock slightly.
Mi quietly approached and continued poking at another boat at the stern to adjust its direction. The four men warily watched their surroundings, plunging their harpoons into the water at the slightest movement, each time bringing up a different fish. Mi cautiously retreated, darting through the water and stunning more fish, causing them to float in the opposite direction from the cane. Naturally, the men, drawn by the fish, would drift further and further away from the cane.
"What did the elder say before we left?" A man rowing on another boat babbled a string of gibberish; if Mi hadn't been using her senses, she would have thought they were just making loud, strange noises.
“I didn’t ask, you ask him—” Another man pointed to a third man, who was noticeably shorter. He was crouching inside the cabin, clutching a harpoon tightly. The shorter man was too frightened to speak and tears streamed down his face.
“Alright, let’s go back. We’re almost at the border, and the elders said we can’t go there,” the man who had been sitting silently at the bow of the boat spoke. The small boat quickly turned and left. Mi sighed and returned to his cane, praying that things would be peaceful from now on and that no more strange creatures would appear, especially those who couldn’t speak the language.
After three days and two nights, the rain finally receded, and the once desolate desert was completely transformed. Numerous animal carcasses lay on the ground, and a large flock of vultures, seemingly from nowhere, landed to feed. Some of the bolder vultures even stretched out their sharp beaks to snatch bundles of rice. One of the vultures, Mi, emerged and killed a bold vulture with its sword, throwing the bundle away. A distant vulture flapped its wings twice and continued feeding, completely oblivious to the deaths of its kind beside it.
The relentless storms of the past few days seemed to have exhausted the wasteland's energy, leaving it utterly desolate. The once drifting sand and gravel are now surrounded by black soil that has risen from nowhere; not a breath of wind, not a wisp of cloud. The sun, unusually high overhead, radiates immense heat, and the corpses on the ground emit a pungent, rotting stench. In some lower-lying areas, remnants of water remain, turning the wasteland into a mudflat—a paradise for vultures.
The ground was littered with fish carcasses, as well as small animals whose names I couldn't identify. Various birds took turns landing on the ground, picking at their favorite food. Further away, some four-legged creatures resembling wolves and dogs were also feeding, and even further away lay enormous carcasses. The wasteland was filled with the stench of decay and stench.
Mi had to shut down all her senses, becoming one with the air once more, waiting for the scavengers to finish feeding and for the mudflats to gradually dry and recover. Mi also used her sword to push the corpses around her cane further away, making the air around the cane less foul. Rotting flesh would bring a lot of germs, and Mi began to worry about the contents of her pack.
The sun blazed for two more days, and the wasteland gradually returned to normal. The black soil began to crack, revealing the yellowish surface beneath. The carcasses near the village had been completely devoured, and only in the distance, in front of those enormous corpses, were hordes of animals still vying for food.
Mi hastily gathered some stones and built a makeshift mound, then took out the wet clothes from her pack to dry. As for the flatbread and dried meat, Mi hesitated for a moment, then went to gather branches to start a fire. Fortunately, a heavy rain had brought plenty of driftwood, and two days of sun exposure made it easy to ignite. The tent Annie had prepared was made of good leather, so the flatbread and dried meat inside were almost undamaged. However, Mi decided to stay there for the night, reheat the food, and wait for the water on the mudflats to evaporate further. The wasteland was currently wet and slippery, making it very difficult to walk; she needed to wait until the surface became more stable.
Mi arranged the gathered branches into a long line, lit a long fire, and then stretched her two arms into two parallel frames, intertwining them to form a fine net. Several hands extended from under her arms, spreading the slightly softened flatbread and dried meat all over them. The aroma of the roasting food attracted many small animals, but fortunately, these animals were small enough to keep a certain distance from the huge fire and Mi, who resembled a mutated human with many arms and long legs. Looking at her arms, seemingly impervious to the heat, Mi once again marveled at her witch form. It was truly an essential helper for home and travel; without a frame, she could simply stretch it out and it would become one. Mi even wondered how those witches who were burned felt pain. The witch form clearly only felt emotions; Mi could walk continuously under the sun all day, yet at this point, she still hadn't realized that her witch form might be experiencing a problem.
The animals and plants in the Misty Forest are extremely territorial. Mi, overwhelmed by the noise, finally learned to shut down her consciousness. She felt all emotions vanish, and she continuously repaired her body, programming it like a computer. Calluses formed on her feet from walking so much; Mi programmed different parts of her body: her face would redden from prolonged sun exposure, her skin would bear scars from scrapes, and her body would become hunched after long journeys, like a real person. Each time she transformed back into her gray, misty witch form, Mi could once again sense the sounds of this world. The creatures of the wasteland were clearly much coarser than those of the Misty Forest; they mostly lived in groups and lacked much consciousness. As long as the leader was still walking ahead, they wouldn't fall behind no matter what happened around them, and none of them would stop to watch.
Mi adjusted her body again, donned her dusty clothes to look more like a qualified adventurer. She packed all her belongings. The blue moon was already high in the sky; the small animals had long since dispersed, even the vultures had flown back to their nests. The half-wasteland, half-mudflat, still smelled unpleasant. However, the nighttime temperature had dropped, and the smell wasn't so pungent. The fire Mi had lit had long since burned to ashes, with only a few embers remaining, wisps of white smoke rising gently, and mist lingering in the air. "This is the perfect time for a beautiful female ghost to appear," Mi thought, when suddenly several slender, tall figures appeared in the distance.
The approaching figures moved with lightning speed; Mi barely had time to react before they were upon her. Three people, emaciated to the bone, wore wide-brimmed hats and their black leather jackets were covered in scars. They reached the other side of the fire pit, six glowing green eyes fixed on Mi. This reminded her of being targeted by a pack of wolves in the Misty Forest. These three had moved so fast; it was almost impossible to tell they were running, and she heard no panting. Mi remained motionless, watching the three on the other side of the fire pit. They were very tall, at least 1.9 meters, and very thin, with long, slender arms and legs. Their hands gripped a dark, gritty stick like chicken claws. The hats covered most of their faces, only their pointed chins visible.
"You go, leave the package behind," one of the men commanded in a hoarse, unpleasant voice. It was the language of the Flower Kingdom, which Mi had learned from the red-haired Annie.
This was a robbery. Mi hadn't expected to encounter adventurers or natives in the wasteland, but she hadn't anticipated a robbery. After all, anyone daring to venture alone into the wasteland couldn't be an ordinary person. Mi stood up, pondering what weapon to use. The dagger was too short, and there were three of them, all tall. Arrows would be best, but now that the three had crossed the fire pit, there wasn't enough distance or time for Mi to draw her bow and shoot. Mi's mind raced, her hand rummaging in her satchel. Suddenly, a bag of small knives Annie had made appeared in Mi's hand. Mi wasn't sure if these knives were any good, but she had no better choice at the moment. Mi held the blade between two fingers, the blue moonlight reflecting off the blade with a cold glint. The three stopped, and the man in the middle, who had spoken, raised his hand to block the other two. At this moment, Mi, facing the three, was frantically thinking. She had to draw her sword the instant she threw the knives. This time, she might really be leaving these three in the wasteland. Mi, who had never killed anyone before, was almost inhumanly calm, with only one thought in her mind: "Finish them off."
The three men confronted Mi for a long time. Lan Yue gradually lengthened their shadows, and Mi even heard one of the men in black, who was being held back, mutter, "What do we do?" The man on the left shook the stick in his hand and said softly, "Should I go first?"
Mi sheathed the razor blade, drew his sword with a backhand motion, and the sudden appearance of the sword startled the three men opposite him. With perfect coordination, they leaped back behind the fire pit, extinguishing the last embers and leaving only black ashes. Mi then realized the three men were incredibly coordinated and swift; they moved in unison, almost without communication, covering each other's retreat. Mi was confused by their movements, only sensing their slight anxiety and apprehension. Their intent to rob Mi's bag wasn't strong; it seemed more like they wanted to drive him away. They were more wary of the sword in Mi's hand, their intense suspicion emanating a phosphorescent glow in the darkness, appearing as points of light in Mi's eyes. Seeing they were far enough away, Mi sheathed his sword, took a bow from his shoulder, nocked an arrow, and fired. The three men in black ran even faster, the arrow landing on the open ground behind them.
For the rest of the night, there was almost no movement. Suddenly, the three people appeared, stayed briefly, and then quickly disappeared into the darkness. Mi put away her bow and transformed into silk threads again. She wandered around the wasteland for a long time but did not see any signs of human habitation. It was as if these people had suddenly emerged from underground and then returned to the ground from somewhere else.
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