Chapter 2 - Opportunities

De-Reece awakes with a start, still hurt. While he is in a better condition than before, he feels the ache in his muscles and the sharp sting of his wounds. His stomach grumbles, a painful reminder that rest alone won't keep him alive. As he stretches against the hard bark of the tree, the events of the previous night come flooding back.

"I guess I should try meditating again," he mutters, voice hoarse. "It did help a little last night."

Closing his eyes, focusing inward, recalling the limited knowledge of cultivation he has pieced together from the wuxia novels he once devoured back on Earth. He guides the wild energy through his body once more, retracing the paths he carved open the night before. It is like running a stream through rocky terrain — rough and jagged, but slowly, the flow smooths.

Visualizing the meridians — the invisible channels that carry qi — starting from the dantian below his navel. From there, he wills the energy upward toward his heart node, then branches out along the arms and legs, retracing the path he carved the night before. The energy gathers at the point near his left shoulder, the only meridian he has managed to force open so far. The sensation is a dull throb at first — like pressing a bruise — but as he pushes the energy through again and again, the flow grows smoother, reinforcing the fragile channel. It is like widening a narrow stream, solidifying the connection bit by bit.

Half an hour passes. The changes are small but noticeable. His body almost seems to have a sheen to it; he takes notice inwardly. The constant throb of pain dulls ever so slightly, and his bleeding slows, basically stopping. It isn't true healing — not yet — but it is a start.

The world won't wait for him to master this power.

He needs food.

Gritting his teeth, De-Reece begins his descent from the tree, carefully following the path he carved into the bark the night before. His ears twitch at a new sound — the soft, steady trickle of water.

A stream.

"Maybe I can find something to eat there," he thinks aloud, his voice a rasp against the quiet forest.

The forest is a different world in the morning light. The trees, massive and ancient, seem to glow a deep ruby red — something he hasn't noticed during his frantic struggle for survival the night before. He runs his fingers along their bark while walking, marveling at their strange beauty.

When he finally finds the stream, its water clear and running lazily over smooth stones, he crouches and takes a cautious sip. The cold liquid soothes his dry throat and washes away the metallic taste of blood.

But water isn't enough.

His gaze shifts to the fish darting through the shallow pools — small, quick, but plentiful.

"Alright," he mutters. "Time to get creative."

Pulling out his zombie knife while searching for a sturdy branch from one of the ruby trees. With quick, precise strokes, he begins shaving it down into a crude spear — sharp but rough. He makes two more, the effort burning what little energy he has left.

De-Reece steps into the stream, careful not to disturb the water too much. Every movement sends a jolt of pain through his injured leg, but he pushes it aside, focusing only on the fish.

He waits.

A flash of silver.

He strikes, the spear plunging into the water — and misses.

Cursing under his breath, he resets, adjusting his grip. Another flash — this time, he drives the spear down hard, feeling the satisfying resistance of flesh.

A fish wriggles on the end of his spear, flopping violently.

"Got you," he whispers, a small grin breaking across his face.

The first bit of real progress.

He catches two more fish after a painstaking hour, each success a small victory against the unrelenting cruelty of this new world. Exhausted but satisfied, De-Reece gathers some dry branches and stones to set up a small fire. It is a slow, laborious process, but eventually, a tiny flame crackles to life.

As the fish begin roasting over the open flame, he leans back against the ruby tree, the warmth of the fire and the smell of cooking food easing his tense mind.

When he finishes eating, De-Reece rises, his body still sore but his resolve stronger. He douses the fire and follows the stream further into the forest.

After about an hour or so of walking, while he mentally maps the forest in his mind.

The sound of rustling leaves makes him stop.

It is then that he sees it — a glimmer of light in the distance, a soft glow radiating from something obscured by thick underbrush.

Creeping closer, pushing aside the leaves to reveal a small clearing — and there it is.

A fruit, glowing faintly with a golden hue, hanging from a low-hanging branch.

But beneath it, curling in a tight coil, is a snake.

Its scales shimmer like polished obsidian, and though its eyes are closed, De-Reece feels the quiet danger it exudes.

The fruit is there for the taking — but so is death, waiting patiently at its base.

De-Reece's mind races. He knows brute force won't work this time. His injuries are too fresh, his strength too limited.

He needs a plan — something cunning.

Stepping back into the forest, his thoughts spinning. "I need something to use against it — something to distract or disable it." His gaze flicks to the branches, the rocks, and the underbrush. "Or maybe... something with poison of its own."

He thinks back to his old world — how smaller, weaker creatures often relied on venom or toxins to level the playing field against predators. If he can find an insect, a frog, or something similarly dangerous, he can extract its poison and coat his weapon.

This isn't just about brute strength anymore. This is survival — and intelligence will be his greatest weapon.

Stepping back into the forest, his thoughts spinning. "I need something to use against it — something to distract or disable it."

Wandering deeper along the stream, he finally spots it — a vibrant amphibian with iridescent blue skin perched on a mossy rock. The creature is no bigger than his palm, but its striking colour screams danger.

Just as he is preparing to capture it, a sudden ripple in the water catches his eye.

It looks like a Komodo dragon a metre in length but with another metre in length of tail. Black but with a blue tone to its scales, using its tail to propel itself through the water.

The Komodo dragon-like creature continues to hunt this creature knowing it is poisonous — this is confirmed when the small amphibian-like creature pulls a dragonfly out of the air for it to sizzle like it has been filled with a corrosive substance once it has it on its tongue.

So this creature is either immune to the poison or strong enough to not care. This is not something he can fight.

Shit.

Now, how does he approach this situation? Just when he's found what he's looking for, something pops up.

Just then, the amphibian tenses, its tiny throat pulsing as it senses the same threat De-Reece has. For a moment, none of them move — the predator, the prey, and the man caught in between.

Then, the Komodo dragon performs a lunge.

Water explodes in all directions as the beast propels itself forward, jaws snapping with a sickening clack as the amphibian leaps into the air. De-Reece barely manages to throw himself sideways, rolling through the wet moss and feeling the sting of pebbles scraping his skin. The dragon hits the bank where the amphibian had been, sending a spray of mud skyward.

Without thinking, De-Reece scrambles back, putting distance between himself and the creature. His mind races.

He needs the amphibian — its poison could be the key to taking down the snake guarding the fruit. But now, with this dragon-like predator in the mix, the simple plan of grabbing it and going is laughable.

The amphibian darts further up the bank, but the Komodo dragon — quicker than its bulk suggests — slithers after it, using its powerful tail to push off the ground like an eel through water. It moves with a predatory grace that sends a chill down De-Reece's spine.

"Shit, shit, shit," De-Reece hisses, eyes darting from the dragon to the amphibian.

And then an idea strikes him.

He needs a distraction — something to turn the dragon's attention elsewhere. Fumbling, he grabs a loose stone from the streambed and hurls it hard at the creature's head. It strikes the dragon just above its left eye, not hard enough to wound, but enough to earn its fury.

The dragon's head snaps in De-Reece's direction, a deep, rumbling hiss escaping its throat. Its black-blue scales shimmer as it rears up, front claws scraping at the ground.

But in that brief moment, the amphibian seizes its chance. It bolts — a blur of blue against the green moss, hopping erratically towards the thicker underbrush.

"No, you don't!" De-Reece mutters, springing to his feet despite the searing pain in his calf. His heart pounds as he chases after the amphibian, the sound of the dragon's enraged hisses echoing behind him.

Sprinting while reaching inward, grasping for the wild energy within him — the same force he channels the night before. Gritting his teeth, guiding the flow downwards, forcing it into his legs. It is like setting fire to his muscles, an intense burning that quickly transforms into a surge of raw speed.

The energy roars through his veins like molten lava, spiraling down from his core and pooling in his limbs. Each pulse of power is a drumbeat in his mind, synchronizing with his racing heart. His legs feel both weightless and unyielding, as though every muscle fibre has been reforged in an instant.

The world blurs slightly at the edges as his body responds. Each step becomes faster, more powerful, his feet skimming the forest floor with an unnatural grace. The wind whips past his face, his mind laser-focused on the fleeing amphibian.

The amphibian veers left, darting under a gnarled root. De-Reece dives after it, slamming his hand down, barely missing it. The creature's skin is so slick it is like grabbing wet glass.

Behind him, the dragon comes crashing through the brush, sending broken twigs flying. It isn't giving up.

"Come on," De-Reece growls, lunging again.

This time, his fingers catch the amphibian's leg.

The creature thrashes violently, and De-Reece feels a sudden, cold burn on his palm — a sure sign that the thing's skin secretes some kind of toxin.

But he doesn't let go.

Instead, yanking the squirming creature close, ripping a strip of fabric from the hem of his shirt with his teeth. His fingers work fast, tying the amphibian's limbs together with a tight knot to keep it from escaping.

He stuffs the bound creature into the small pouch at his belt. The sting in his palm spreads up his wrist, but there is no time to stop and assess the damage.

The dragon is almost on him.

His mind spins, calculating.

He can't outrun it forever — not without a plan.

Spotting a low-hanging branch ahead, De-Reece makes a split-second decision. Channeling the burning energy into his legs once more, he surges forward, his body a blur of motion. At the last moment, he leaps, grabbing the branch and using the momentum to swing his body up and over.

The dragon lunges beneath him, snapping at empty air.

De-Reece doesn't stop — he keeps moving, using the branch as leverage to propel himself further into the trees, each movement fueled by the coursing energy within him. The dragon twists below, snarling in fury, but De-Reece is already several steps ahead, slipping into the dense undergrowth.

Then he sees it — a narrow cliffside just ahead, a jagged line of stone cutting through the forest. His mind sharpens.

Darting toward the cliff, the dragon still tearing through the brush behind him. Edging along the rock face, he spots a small opening — a cave, barely wide enough for him to squeeze through.

Without hesitation, hurling himself toward it, scrambling into the dark, his shoulder scraping against the rough stone. The dragon slams its bulk against the cliff face, claws raking the rock, but the entrance is too narrow for its bulk.

Breathing hard, pressing himself further into the cave's cool darkness, his heart still thundering in his chest as the dragon roars in frustration outside.

Escape is all he thinks about.