The forest air was crisp and clean, a welcome change from the city's perpetual smog-made-of-wanting-me-dead. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the mossy ground in a mosaic of light and shadow. Birds chirped, insects buzzed, and somewhere in the distance, a babbling brook provided a tranquil soundtrack to my current predicament.
Which, to be fair, was still pretty damn danger-level fucked!
Swiftly spinning out of the way of the bastard trying to chomp down on my face-in-the-dirt self, I was surprisingly able to flip into the middle of the field.
I blinked in confusion at that, cus now my thoughts that those friggin' trips from the nonsense hell of +3 LSD-stomping were definitely my cheat ability.
I mean, I knew they were doing something weird when I woke up already disguised with a disguise technique I had somehow made out of sticks and stones and my own god damn mental-broken-bones, but yeah.
Definitely my cheat ability.
'Okay, Janson,' I thought to myself, dropping the Kong Di Qing facade for the foreseeable future was definitely and absolutely a good idea. Out here, surrounded by trees and the faint scent of pine needles, there was no one to impress, no expectations to meet. Just me, my rapidly dwindling Qi reserves, and a giant boar with a penchant for the chowing down on the unconscious.
The boar, its tusks glinting menacingly in the dappled sunlight, snorted and pawed the ground, its beady eyes fixed on me with a hunger that was both unsettling and vaguely relatable. I'd been there, man. That post special guest appearance craving for a greasy burger and a mountain of fries? Yeah, I felt that.
Except this boar wasn't craving a late-night snack after being both interviewed by excited Paparazzi. It was craving me-man brand Janson-flesh.
I’m certain that brand is reserved for the ladies, and definitely not in that way!
I glanced down at the notebook clutched in my hand. Somewhere in those chaotic scribbles, amidst the nonsensical diagrams and what looked suspiciously like a recipe for Spicy Chili-Infused Qi Bars and a yin-yang symbol diagram shaped like a smiley-face, was the movement technique that had saved my ass back in the alleyway. I just knew it.
But right now, with my post-disguise-timer of qi flashing a warning red of ‘we’re out of that type bro, maybe try Celsius or Nos! Bitch I want my c4 energy!- and my stomach still churning from that herbalist's 'healing' doomtaste concoction, studying ancient martial arts secrets was about as appealing as a root canal performed by a rabid squirrel and a medical degree in murder.
Survival first, theory later. That was my new motto.
Besides, I had a feeling I'd be getting plenty of hands-on training in the near future.
Also known as goddang now!
The boar shifted its weight, its muscles coiling beneath its bristly hide. Then it opened its mouth, and my carefully constructed composure shattered like a dropped vase full of asinine expectation that the freaking fauna of this shitshow would be normal.
Because instead of tusks, or teeth, or even fangs, this delightful specimen of porcine evolution had buzzsaws. Four sets of them, spinning with a high-pitched whine that made my teeth ache.
"Did the concept of evolution decide that it wanted to destroy common sense, the logging industry, and all of my patience when it created you, you ugly bastard?!" I blurted out, my voice a mix of incredulity and genuine concern for the future of forestry.
Then I blinked, the words echoing strangely in the silent forest. My voice sounded normal. No flowery metaphors, no archaic pronouncements, just plain, unfiltered Janson.
My disguise technique had worn off.
"Eh," I shrugged, glancing down at the timer that now blinked a mocking zero. "This is fine. I'll make a new one when I'm near actual people."
The boar, apparently unfazed by my existential crisis or my sudden lack of linguistic embellishment, roared and charged. Those buzzsaws, spinning with a ferocity that would make a chainsaw salesman drool, were aimed directly at my midsection.
Time for a crash course in whatever the hell my cheat ability had decided to download into my brain during that last trip.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"This no longer a billionaire playboy philanthropist known as Janson, the absolute-badass-great, is about to drop the beatdown of a lifetime on you, you buzzsaw-face-wielding bacon-burger!" I shouted, striking a pose that I hoped conveyed a sense of confidence and power.
Internally, though, I was wincing.
Okay, maybe not the beatdown of a lifetime, I thought, scrambling back as the boar thundered towards me, its buzzsaws whirring like a symphony of imminent dismemberment. More like a desperate attempt to not get turned into bacon bits.
My newfound confidence, as fleeting as a youtube trend about paper fashion and art boots, evaporated as the boar closed the distance. This wasn't some drunk frat boy I could insult my way out of a fight with using sheer unending shame. This was a creature engineered for destruction, powered by primal rage and the unsettling desire to turn my internal organs into a man-you-can-eat buffet!
I barely managed to dodge the initial charge, the buzzsaws missing my midsection by a hair's breadth. The force of the boar's momentum sent a gust of wind whipping past me, carrying with it the distinct scent of pine needles, damp earth, and a hint of something metallic that I really didn't want to think about too hard.
And that is when those new techniques did something cool.
I don't know what was going on but as the pig's ass was in range, my leg snapped up, I twisted my body, and that buzzsaw of an ass was now, surprisingly no longer part of the buzz saw face pig's body!
It took me a second to realize it worked, but a big chink of the pig's hind quarters went flying in one direction, and the rest of the pig's body was spinning in the other!
Apparently those new techniques that I got from the shopping spree, were shoved into my brain too! Too bad they didn't upgrade like the disguise technique...
"Motherfucker!" I shouted, scrambling back as the rest of the boar crashed into a nearby tree. The pig's body spun in the air, bounced off the ground like a goddamn basketball, then slammed into the tree.
The tree, it seemed, fared a lot worse in that exchange. Its trunk splintered, branches snapping like twigs, leaves raining down like confetti at a particularly chaotic parade. "I told you! I told you this thing would destroy the logging industry by existing!"
My audience, sadly, consisted of a few startled squirrels and a bewildered-looking woodpecker who seemed to be questioning its life choices. The sound of TACTACTACTAC it made while just turning, deciding that ignoring the fight did not change the fact that those bastards were the worst piece of annoying garbage birds. It was the main reason that they were, in fact, fuck-up loud-birds of maximum no-chill morning alarm bastards!
But I had to keep moving, had to keep up the offensive or get eaten by this bastard pig.
It groaned and shakily got back on its feet, those buzzsaws still spinning menacingly. Its eyes, however, seemed a bit less focused, its movements slightly sluggish.
"Man, you're dumb!" I yelled, more out of adrenaline-fueled disbelief than actual malice.
Seriously, this thing just got a significant portion of its rear end lopped off, and it was still coming back for more. Either it was incredibly stubborn, or evolution hadn't quite gotten around to equipping it with a sense of self-preservation.
I shook my head, preparing myself for another round of dodge-and-kick-the-buzzsaw into learning how to not be stupid or dying, preferably the latter for the big-pig bastard.
The boar, fueled by a stubborn, buzzsaw-laden heart of pure, unadulterated hate and death-thorns, charged again. I sidestepped the attack, thanking whatever deity or cosmic anomaly was responsible for downloading those sweet new moves into my brain.
My foot connected with the boar's flank, sending it careening sideways into the tree where that goddamn woodpecker had been relentlessly hammering away just moments before. There was a sickening crunch of a certain boar meeting bark, followed by a flurry of feathers and then blessed silence.
"Good riddance!" I shouted, a grim smile spreading across my face. "One less feathered asshole that can't do anything but ruin quiet mornings in this world! Hear that?! Whatever asshole in heaven decided woodpeckers were a good idea in this world too better wait for my boot up their ass!"
"We're losing distractions, now, but gaining inner peace!" I shouted at my stupid-boar-dinner, my eyes narrowed as I circled the dazed boar. "Come on, you overgrown pork chop, round four! Let's see if you can outdo your previous display of stupidity."
The boar struggled to rise, its mangled hindquarters a carnival show of the effectiveness of my newfound kicking prowess. The ground around it was a gory mess, but my stomach, thankfully, was more focused on the rumbling of hunger than any lingering squeamishness.
It glared at me, buzzsaws whirring with a defiance that bordered on comical.
"Alright, tough guy," I said, my voice hardening. "Let's end this!"
The boar charged again, but it was slower this time, its movements labored. Blood loss and repeated impacts were finally taking their toll.
I seized the opportunity, my enhanced senses tracking the boar's trajectory with a precision I never knew I possessed. My foot snapped out, a targeted strike aimed at the boar's right hind leg. There was a sickening crack as bone shattered, and the boar crashed to the ground, its buzzsaws sputtering as they slowed their spin.
I raised my leg high after approaching, when my foot rose high enough that I knew this thing would just- not be a living abomination anymore, but a dead one, I slammed my leg down as my foot met the side of its head.
The smashing of its unnatural face and head was a relief, but also really freaking gross.
I lifted my foot from the mess of skull, brain, and the spiked decision nature had made that chewing was for normal people and shredding was better.
"Dinner time," I declared, lifting the fallen beast to the middle of the clearing, my stomach growling in anticipation. This world might be full of crazy cultivators and vengeful clans, but right now, my only priority was turning this buzzsaw-faced menace into a barbecue feast fit for a king.