Chapter One: Who Are They

Whoosh… whoosh…
The endless sound of wind rushed past his ears…
His body was plummeting at breakneck speed…
He couldn’t open his eyes…
The dizziness grew stronger and stronger…
Until finally…
He lost consciousness…
When his senses returned, Ding felt pain shooting through every inch of his body.
“Oh my god, this hurts like hell!” he muttered, struggling to open his eyes.
His head throbbed; his mind felt blank, as if something important had slipped away. He was about to sit up and try to recall it when, suddenly, his eyes widened in shock—he saw a pair of green eyes…
Those eyes glowed eerily, fixed on him with a predatory stare, unmoving…
Ding rubbed his eyes, focusing more closely, and realized the green glow came from a gray male wolf’s eyes. Night was just beginning to fall, the sky not yet fully dark, making the sight even more chilling.
A cold sweat broke out over Ding’s body.
He now noticed that what he lay upon was soft and furry. He was sprawled across the body of a huge gray wolf. The wolf lay motionless, its body still warm, but its eyes were shut and blood pooled at its mouth. It seemed he must have fallen on the wolf and killed it, though he couldn’t understand how that had happened.
Wolves are pack animals, often appearing in groups. Ding scanned his surroundings warily. Thankfully, aside from the one watching him, there were no other wolves in sight.
In the dim twilight, Ding could make out that he was on a slope, with plenty of rocks about and dense mountain forest nearby. The abundance of rocks had left this patch treeless, forming a small clearing amid the woods. But how had he ended up crashing onto a wolf? Had he really fallen from the sky?
Ding slowly sat up, eyes fixed on the enormous male wolf—over two meters long, tail included—not far away. His right hand instinctively reached for the knife at his waist.
Where was his knife?
Oh no! Not only was the knife missing, his clothes were gone as well. He was completely naked!
Sweat poured down Ding’s face.
No weapon, no protection, nothing but bare skin—was he here to serve himself up to the wolves? Could his luck get any worse?

Suppressing his pain, Ding slowly crouched.
The male wolf, seeing Ding crouch, seemed suddenly anxious, retreating two steps before stopping, baring its teeth in a low growl. The sound was like a dog’s, but fiercer.
Ding knew this was the wolf’s warning, a display before an attack.
What Ding didn’t know was that the wolf was indeed wary of him. A humanoid creature had fallen from the sky, killing its companion—anyone would be frightened.
It had tried to flee, but after leaping away, saw Ding lying motionless. So it turned back, intending to investigate, but dared not approach too closely.
Ding had no idea what the wolf was thinking. He was still rapidly weighing his options for dealing with the beast.
Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, Ding spotted a mangled corpse nearby, torn apart by wolves until it was barely recognizable.
Not far from the body, there was a woodcutting knife and a basket.
As the wolf continued to watch him, Ding began slowly edging toward the knife.
But the wolf, sensing his hesitation and guessing his intent, suddenly sprang forward, launching itself at Ding with bared jaws, aiming straight for his throat…
Ding rolled aside, dodging clumsily, and before he could stand, the wolf howled and attacked from behind.
He could only tumble forward, rolling two or three times across the ground.
But the clearing was strewn with sharp rocks of all sizes. As he rolled, his skin was slashed in several places, and blood began to seep out…
The wolf, excited by the scent of blood, grew even more savage. Seeing Ding only dodge, posing no threat, it shed its fear, pouncing on him yet again.
After several rolls, Ding was now farther from the knife. His whole body ached and he was losing strength. Before he could rise, the wolf attacked again, swift and relentless.
“Oh my god!” Ding cursed inwardly, knowing it was too late to roll away again.
He could only fall back, dodging the wolf’s front paws, and grabbed blindly at the ground, seizing a stone and shoving it into the wolf’s mouth. The wolf snapped its jaws, biting down on the stone with a crunch that nearly broke its teeth. It growled and spat out the stone.
In that instant, Ding managed to grip the wolf’s front legs, pulling them over his shoulders, pressing his head against the wolf’s neck and jaw, and wrapping his arms tightly around its torso.
With its body pinned, the wolf couldn’t muster strength or use its agility; its neck and jaw held fast by Ding’s head, it couldn’t bite him. Furious, it struggled desperately, clawing bloody furrows into Ding’s back.
Ding endured the pain, refusing to loosen his grip. If he let go, he’d become wolf meat.
Man and wolf rolled across the clearing, locked in a fierce struggle, neither yielding.
Just as Ding felt his strength waning, his right hand touched cold iron—a woodcutting knife!

He seized the knife and, with every ounce of strength, plunged it into the wolf’s ribs.
The wolf howled in agony, thrashing wildly…
Ding held fast, refusing to let the wolf break free or counterattack.
After a brief struggle, the wolf finally went limp.
Covered in blood, Ding exhaled deeply, lying beside the dead wolf, gasping for air.
By now, night had fallen completely. No moon, only a sky full of stars. From deep in the woods came the cries of wild beasts and the calls of night birds.
Ding was puzzled—why was his vision so keen? Even in pitch darkness, he could see clearly.
He patted his head, realizing he’d forgotten much: he couldn’t remember who he was, his name, where he’d come from, or what he’d experienced.
Had he lost his memory?
Yet deep in his mind, certain names kept surfacing: Qing’er, Xuehui, Feifei, Naiko, Yuan’er…
All women’s names—who were they? Children or adults? Why had he forgotten everything else, even himself, yet not them? What were they to him?
Perhaps there is a kind of memory engraved so deeply that even amnesia cannot erase it.
Ding racked his brains to remember, but the harder he tried, the more his head hurt, as if it might split apart.
He quickly stopped thinking, fearing he’d pass out if he pressed further.
To calm his pain, he sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and steadied his mind, guarding his spirit. Mysteriously, words for practicing breathing techniques appeared in his mind. Ding followed them skillfully, as naturally as eating or sleeping.
After circulating his inner energy two or three times, the pain eased considerably, his wounds stopped bleeding, and his strength returned.
Ding opened his eyes, determined to descend the mountain as soon as possible and leave this dangerous place.
In the mountains, wild beasts roam at night, and he was still injured; encountering another predator would be too risky.
He stood, picked up the woodcutting knife for protection, and then noticed the basket nearby. Inside, something dark was trembling ever so slightly…