A Risk Worth Taking

Yuntai gritted his teeth, his gaze flickering between the hungry wolves and the mysterious box.

That thing could be even more dangerous than the wolves…

But he had no other choice. If even beasts obeyed their instincts and kept away, then perhaps—just perhaps—it could shield him too.

With determination burning in his eyes, he clenched his jaw and glared at the wolves, his frustration boiling over.

"If I’m going to die today, then I’ll make sure I take at least one of you with me!" he roared in defiance.

The wolves snarled in response, their low growls rumbling through the air as if they understood his challenge.

Without wasting another second, Yuntai lowered his gaze—he still dared not look directly at the box—and cautiously reached out.

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His fingers brushed against its surface.

The moment his hand touched the box, something surprising happened.

A wave of warmth surged through his body—gentle, comforting, almost like a summer breeze.

It was so unexpected that he stumbled in shock, accidentally dropping the box into the snow.

He froze.

Hadn’t this thing nearly shattered his mind the last time he looked at it? Wasn’t it supposed to be something terrifying?

And yet… instead of pain, instead of an ominous presence, it felt safe.

Reeling from the shock, he quickly bent down and picked it up again.

This time, the splitting headache that had tormented him earlier didn’t return.

Instead, the warmth remained, spreading through his limbs, steadying his breathing.

He was still alive.

And more importantly—he could hold it.

As Yuntai steadied himself, he turned his attention back to the wolves.

The moment they saw him holding the box, their aggression shifted into unease.

They growled, their piercing eyes locked onto him, but none dared to step closer.

Slowly—one by one—they began to back away.

The change was so sudden, so unnatural, that a shiver ran down Yuntai’s spine.

He had no idea what he was holding.

But for now, it was the only reason he was still breathing.

With the box firmly in his grasp, he took his first step forward.

And the wolves—they let him go.

A solitary silhouette moved through the snow-covered forest, its form barely visible in the dimming light of dusk. The night was creeping in, and the air had turned even colder.

The young man trudged forward, his breath coming out in white puffs against the freezing air. In his left hand, he gripped a wooden axe, and on his back, a heavy bundle of firewood was strapped securely—concealing within it a mysterious box, hidden from sight beneath the stacked logs.

Yes, this was still Yuntai.

Even as his body moved automatically through the well-trodden snow, his mind was a storm of doubt and disbelief.