— The Emperor’s Imperial Record, Entry No. 18 —

  Desperately, I pushed with my legs. I felt a crack in at least four of my toes, but it didn’t matter.

  “Skreeeeeee.” The beast lurched, and I vaulted towards my bag, the tips of my fingers snagging it at the last moment.

  Then it was on my back.

  Neck.

  ‘No!’

  I twisted around, ramming my bag between its sharp teeth. I had never noticed them in such detail. They were yellow. At the time, I did not know why I remembered that aspect.

  It had foul breath and a long scaly tongue. It was blue.

  But I had my bag.

  ‘Bloody skies’, I had my bag. I quickly riffled through it, feeling for— ‘Where is my knife?’

  The bag prolonged my life, but only for a few seconds. The beast had its fangs through the material. Damn it. This was from my father.

  It had to pay.

  I pushed against the beast’s maws, using the bag as a sort of shield.

  It was the wrong choice to make. Its tongue was flexible, and it took full advantage of that. The beast wrapped its tongue around my right arm, my dominant arm… and licked.

  “AAAAH.” It felt like being burned with boiling oil. Smoke steamed off my skin.

  I was angry. Scared. I wanted to run. To live.

  What did it matter if I was a coward? Cowards lived long, didn’t they?

  But I had let my pride lead me here. And now, I had to fight.

  Fight or die.

  ‘No. Win or die’

  I tried to kick the beast, but I was so much taller that I was hitting nothing.

  The whole area had gone quiet, predators and prey alike had fled long ago.

  I struggled and pushed. ‘Why is this beast so strong?’ It felt like multiple grown men packed into a small beast.

  Finally, I rolled it on its back, with its tongue still wrapped around my arm, steam broiled off my skin. The bag quickly tore away, and malicious hate filled the spirit beast's eyes.

  I had crossed a line with its children, I shouldn’t have.

  But it had crossed a line with me as well, and one of the things I had learnt whilst out in the forests was, it's predator or prey.

  I pushed as hard as I could, dragging the spirit beast across the ground, over as many sharp, jagged rocks I could find, finally coming to a stop, pounding the top of its head on a wide tree, leaves and fruits fell together, it was like a play.

  But this was real life, and I had just enraged the beast.

  It got stronger, somehow.

  The spirit beast let go of the bag, then ran up and around the tree, bark flying off like snowflakes. It was in the branches now.

  I couldn’t see it.

  My luck had just gotten worse. Quickly, I rummaged through the torn-up bag, hands fumbling over and missing the very thing I was looking for in my nervousness.

  All the while, I could hear the beast moving through the branches, like a dagger in the knight, stalking me.

  I had found it, ‘Finally!’, I hastily pulled it out of the bag with my left hand, it hurt too much to use my right. In the process, I cut my hand as well, with fresh blood spilling out only moments later.

  So, I switched to my right arm, screaming in agony, pulses of raw pain hitting me like waves from a river.

  If I survived this, I was going to keep that thing’s head above the door to my house.

  But I had forgotten one thing.

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  The beast’s screech. “Eiiiaaaaaa”. The squawk rattled my head, and I loosened the grip on my knife. I had to resist the urge to cover my bleeding ears.

  It jumped, but slower now, with an almost graceful laziness. Or exhaustion, like a tired bear.

  Damn it.

  I raised my dagger up and almost closed my eyes, but years of training and experience kept them open. The beast didn't care, it cocked its head to the side, dodging the blade. It was on my right arm again.

  ‘Hssshhh,” I hissed.

  But it was slower now, its teeth a darker shade, almost like a burnt yellow. Its tongue was so blue it was purple.

  ‘What was happening?’ It couldn’t be my knife. That thing had harmed me more than it.

  Oakre’s blood.

  It was poisoned! The stakes worked.

  Now, I just had to outlast it, but then I remembered what Yao Po had said. ‘It’ll still outlast you.’

  And it would probably outlive me, too.

  I was betting against time, and I'd never heard of someone who won. I wasn't a cultivator.

  I had to play a different game.

  I ran toward a boulder, smashing the beast against it.

  But I had forgotten that the thing was smart. It immediately started kicking and scratching with its claws, like a dog held by the scruff of its neck, or a cat, a cat was better.

  I switched the dagger to my left hand and stabbed the beast. It groaned a muffled cry, but still refused to let go.

  But I didn't care. The wound was already starting to steam. It was healing. I was going to stab again.

  Then it finally caught me, the claw on its back foot had leaned back enough, even with the boulder behind it, to raise its foot far enough to touch my neck. I pulled back immediately, only for its sword-like claw to drag a long, vertical line from the top of my chest to my belly.

  An inch more, 1 cùn, and I'd be dead,

  It had let go of my hand at this point, and we were both heaving. Catching our breath, but I wouldn't have any more breath to catch if I were dead.

  ‘Maybe, just maybe, if I can keep it underwater, it’ll be enough to kill it—or give me a fighting chance.’ I rushed forward, grabbed it by its neck, and then ran towards the river.

  I was going to drown it.

  I sunk the beast in, bubbles forming on the surface. It was struggling. Good. I couldn’t keep this up for much longer. Every ounce of strength I was using was another struggle I had to win.

  ‘It was… wait.’

  It wasn’t struggling, it was positioning itself properly. This was an aquatic beast. I was an idiot!

  I was going to drown.

  The spirit beast dragged me in.

  Its scarred lips curled, revealing more of its teeth, bubbles leaving its mouth quickly and periodically,

  I wasn't deep enough yet, I could still fight back.

  I tried to pull away, to come up for air. To run. The beast wasn't having that, it dragged me deeper, farther into the river.

  ‘Has it always been this deep?’ My knife was still in my hand.

  ‘Why is it so fast?’ I tried to stab, but then it started spinning, and I spun with it. Slowly at first, then faster.

  I was going to drown.

  I kept stabbing, but whether it hit flesh or water, I didn't know. I was functionally blind The blood from my wounds mixed into the water.

  Creating a small spot, blurring out both our visions like nature had created an arena just for us.

  And may the best man win.

  I couldn't stop spinning, so I kicked out, my other hand flailing along with the rest of my body. I was rapidly going closer to the middle of the river, catching a current.

  Was this how all those beavers felt?

  No, I had to look for something, I had to get out of this.

  I had to get air–I nee-

  A branch, a thin but long one. Roots still attached to the banks of the water, it felt like it had appeared at just the right time. Like a spectator throwing a handful of dust at the other fighter's eyes in a fight.

  I grabbed on to it for dear life. Trying to pull myself up for air.

  The beast stopped spinning, mostly because I was holding on to the branch too tightly for it to spin me anymore, so, instead, it tugged harder.

  I felt like my hand had been caught in one of those windmills and was being pulled out of its socket,

  I was like a man chained between two pillars, one representing life and the other representing death.

  I chose life.

  I pulled myself up, as far as up was concerned, I couldn't tell. Only the tip of my nose coming up, confirming my efforts. I choked on the water I inhaled. But I couldn't cough, that would only bring in more water. Death.

  I raised myself up again using the branch as a way to help myself up, the beast pulling down, every so often. Tugging, to nullify my efforts,

  “Suuuh” I inhaled.

  Air.

  It tasted so good, but then I was dragged in again, this thing was relentless, and so was I. I pulled harder on the branch, not to get up for more air, but to get closer to the bank. I was too close to the river's main current, if I got in, I would never get out.

  I pulled a root, tearing it out of the riverside. I had to hurry, this wasn't going to last much longer, the beast kept tugging, but with less strength, I was winning.

  If I got out of the water again, the beast would attack some other part of my body, and his time it would be lethal, I could see it in the thing's eyes, as the water cleared.

  This was my last chance,

  I pulled using only one hand, timing my pulls for whenever the beast paused to regain strength for its next tug.

  Inch by every terrible inch, I got closer, and so did the beast, it was coming up my arm. This wasn’t going to work, I had to find a way to get out of this.

  I waited for the beast to tug again.

  Tug,

  My lungs screamed out in agony.

  Tug,

  The spirit beast fixed its eyes on mine. Was I giving up?

  Tug,

  Here. Its teeth gripped just a little less tightly. My only chance.

  I pulled.