A Second Chance at Life

The wind howled fiercely in his ears.

Qin An felt as if he had returned to that night, only now there was a torrential rain, and the little girl in his arms had changed.

Was it going to end like this? He looked at the sky, black as obsidian.

I don’t want to die! For the first time, he had such a thought, a feeling of insufficiency rising up. He was an S-class assassin of Dover, but his true strength was secretly rated as G-class in the assassin world—meaning one who surpasses human limits.

The assassin world generally classified assassins into S, A, B, C, and E levels; G-class was added later by subsequent generations.

An S-class could wipe out a platoon; a G-class could annihilate a battalion or even a small nation. The supernatural world was similar, divided into Tier One to Tier Five superhumans. Those at the peak of Tier Five were said to be able to break through the divine limit and achieve complete control over all abilities. These people were called Awakened Ones.

In his past life, there were only seven known G-class and Awakened individuals in the entire world. The youngest among them were Qin An, Esther, Shana, and a genius artificially created at Los Alamos National Laboratory in the United States. That genius had escaped the research institute that raised him and, using nothing but his bare hands, rendered all the heavily armed soldiers in the institute’s high-security facility combat-incapable. There was also a mad doctor of unknown age—the creator of this artificial genius—whose supernatural abilities were obscure, but his technologically transcendent achievements alone made him arrogant. He once praised Qin An and Qin Yage as the most perfect humans in the world, more perfect than Adam and Eve.

Looking at the pale little face in his arms, Qin An found it amusing. When had he become a self-sacrificing hero, willing to give so much for a child he had known less than a day? Wasn’t he the god of death from hell?

When he felt the time was right, Qin An plunged his knife into the sheer cliff with all his might. Sparks burst from the hard rock.

Bathed in those sparks, Qin An knew the strike had failed.

He pulled the blade out too hard, and his right hand was torn into a bloody mess.

In the instant of his fall, Qin An drew another dagger. He swung it vertically, the strong wind making his cheek twitch as the blade raced along the cliff, throwing off sparks.

Using this method, Qin An slowed his descent by about ten meters before the dagger was ruined and his right hand was nearly crippled. He and Tongtong returned to a state of free fall.

Now it’s all up to fate.

Qin An had done everything he could. When he came camping here, he had checked the map and knew the highest peak was six hundred meters and the shortest was four hundred and sixty meters.

If it was four hundred and sixty meters, they would have landed safely by now.

Qin An crashed into the water like a meteor, splashing countless droplets. After swallowing a few mouthfuls, he surfaced. The pool was not large, but about seven or eight meters deep, and it formed a perfect circle, as if drawn with a compass.

It looked like a hunter’s trap, but it was too deep. Had the hunter been bored and dug an extra four or five meters, treating it as a work of art? Qin An certainly didn’t believe that. There could be another explanation—like a supernatural being—but it didn’t matter now because he was still alive.

Only those who have lost everything or experienced death understand the preciousness of life.

Luck.

Qin An breathed a sigh of relief. If not for this pool, he would have been crippled at best and died in the cold rain at worst.

He picked up Tongtong, looked around blankly, and trudged toward a cave.

The cave entrance was covered with thorns, and there was a large tree outside blanketed by weeds. In such heavy rain, if not for Qin An’s extensive wilderness survival knowledge, he might not have found it.

After entering the cave, Qin An gained several more bloody cuts.

There were no martial arts manuals on the cave walls, no poisons on the floor, and no traps in the corners. Instead, there were piles of dry straw and scattered dead branches.

His body was already exhausted; he might collapse any second. But he couldn’t fall yet. First, he took off his T-shirt, then his pants, leaving only his boxers.

He laid Tongtong on the straw and quickly removed her soaked, dirty dress to prevent hypothermia, wrapping her shivering body in the warm straw.

Nearby, he found branches of various sizes and some dry grass. He dug a shallow pit in the ground, crossed the smallest branches, and then pulled a lighter from his clothes. Before long, a modest fire was crackling.

The weak flames radiated a unique warmth.

Qin An held the little girl, who felt colder than a corpse, tightly in his arms. I have to keep her alive!

He kept adding wood to the fire, occasionally resting. By midnight, he could finally change into warm clothes, but Tongtong’s forehead was hot enough to boil an egg.

The rain gradually weakened, finally turning into scattered droplets. Qin An left the cave and took a deep breath. The air was still somewhat humid, and dewdrops sparkled like diamonds under the sun.

The valley after the rain was especially refreshing. The leaves were a vivid green, and the splashing waves from the stream were pure white.

Qin An found that the area was quite rich in medicinal herbs: fever-reducing ones, health-strengthening ones, blood-nourishing ones. If he looked carefully, there were even some magical herbs—like those that could make you sturdier.

He also picked up a broken clay pot and a cracked porcelain bowl. The pot had colorful patterns printed on it, probably an artifact from some dynasty. If any archaeologist saw Qin An treating it so wastefully, they would surely tear him limb from limb.

Qin An carefully brewed the medicine outside the cave. Watching the white smoke rising from the flames, he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone found them.

He brought the medicine to the pale-faced Tongtong. He propped her up, opened her mouth, and tried to pour the medicine in. But it all spilled out from the corners of her lips.

Qin An pressed on her philtrum and scraped several spots on her body. Tongtong coughed twice, and her eyes finally opened into a slit.

Although Chinese acupressure was not as miraculous as described in martial arts novels, it did have some effect on vital points.

“Cold… so cold,” Tongtong murmured as she burrowed into Qin An.

“An, my head hurts so much. Am I going to die?”

“No way. A cute girl like you—even the King of Hell wouldn’t dare take you.” Qin An stroked her hair tenderly, his voice gentle.

The strong smell of medicine hit her delicate face. The steaming aroma made her uncomfortable, and she shrank back into Qin An’s arms.

“Drink your medicine, Tongtong.” Qin An took the bowl.

He carefully blew on the medicine to cool it, then brought it to her lips. But Tongtong was terrified of the bitter taste. Weakly, she said, “Can I not drink it?”

“No. Good medicine is bitter. Once you drink it, you’ll get better. Come on, I’ve already cooled it.” He offered the medicine again.

“I don’t want to.” She saw the dark liquid and immediately tried to burrow back into his arms, disgusted.

Qin An threatened her: “If you don’t drink this, you won’t get to see your mother! And I’ll hate you too.”

“Ah!” In Tongtong’s world, only her grandparents, mother, and An were the most important. They were her sky. But now, because she wouldn’t take medicine, half of that sky was collapsing. How could she bear it?

Pinching her nose, she looked at the dark, bottomless liquid and closed her eyes as if she was resigning herself. But maybe she really couldn’t stand it. After the first sip, she spat it right back out.

“What’s wrong?” Could Tongtong be allergic to Chinese medicine? Qin An nervously wiped her mouth with his sleeve.

She shook her head and said, “An, it’s too bitter.”

“I’ll feed you. You have to finish it.” Desperate to get the fever-reducing liquid into her system, Qin An took a mouthful of the bitter medicine himself and pressed his lips to hers, gently forcing her to swallow. It was incredibly bitter, but seeing her finally swallow the life-saving draft brought a wave of relief that tasted sweeter than anything else.

After drinking, Tongtong still couldn’t sleep.

She looked up at Qin An’s lips, wondering why she had been able to swallow the bitter medicine she usually fought so hard against. To her, he felt like a guardian angel.

As she thought about this, her hand unconsciously reached up and touched his face.

Qin An was sleeping lightly. He felt the soft touch on his cheek and opened his eyes. Tongtong immediately closed her eyes like a startled rabbit, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

Qin An first measured her temperature with his forehead—no significant change—then took off his shirt and draped it over her.

Pretending to sleep, Tongtong drifted off contentedly in Qin An’s warm embrace.

In the wilderness, the first priority was to prevent illness. To avoid being bitten by poisonous insects, Qin An went into the woods alone. After a while, he returned with some plants that looked like tobacco leaves. He crushed them with a stone and applied the juice to Tongtong’s exposed skin.

“An, what is this?” The little girl watched his actions curiously.

“The juice from these plants keeps mosquitoes away. The smell isn’t very pleasant, but can you bear with it?”

The little girl nodded gently.

Seeing her so obedient, Qin An kissed her cheek affectionately.

After applying the juice to himself as well, he scattered the leaves into the sky.

The sky was clear. Qin An stared thoughtfully at the rising black smoke. He felt the rescue team was too weak. He and Tongtong had been here for two days, but there was still no sign of them. Actually, he couldn’t blame them. In this era, how advanced could search-and-rescue tools be? Sending a few helicopters was the best they could do, let alone high-tech gadgets.

Fortunately, Tongtong’s condition was basically stable. Her brain wasn’t damaged; instead, she had become more cheerful, sometimes asking questions. That was barely good news.

After a simple breakfast of non-toxic wild berries, Qin An decided not to wait passively. He wanted to explore the area. Since there was a hunter’s trap here, someone must live nearby.

Qin An carried Tongtong through the dense forest. She looked up and asked, “An, where are we going?”

“We’re going on an adventure. Have you seen Alice in Wonderland?”

Tongtong nodded. It was one of her favorite books.

“Then you’re Alice now.” Qin An lifted her high and laughed.

Tongtong looked excited. She broke free from his embrace and landed on the ground like a rabbit escaping its cage, hopping around nonstop.

“An, look! Is that the dormouse who likes to bully the weak and bluff?” She pointed at a skinny mouse.

Qin An nodded. It was probably just a common field mouse, but he didn’t want to shatter the little girl’s fairy tale.

“Haha—he must be the Mad Hatter!” She pointed at a stupid rabbit that had crashed into a stump and laughed out loud.

Tongtong stood before a green leaf, watching a fuzzy caterpillar crawling on a leaf without any fear, as if she even planned to tease it.

“This must be the caterpillar named Absolem who likes to smoke a hookah. But where’s his hookah?”

“He probably forgot to bring it.”

Tongtong put her hands on her hips and said seriously, “Absolem is such a scatterbrain.”

Qin An found her earnest expression amusing. This was probably the real her.

Even if it was only temporary, Qin An felt happy.