The Land of Eternal Night

In this age, eternal darkness shrouded the heavens and the earth.

Luminous creatures were incredibly rare, and when one appeared, it often signified dread, danger, and imminent death. The only sensible response was to avoid their domain as quickly as possible.

Who knew how many perilous beings slumbered within the vast wilderness?

A creature that dared to flaunt its radiance in this treacherous environment—fearless of predators or threats—was undoubtedly terrifying, exuding supreme confidence and unrivaled strength.

Qin Ming silently slid down the tree, crouching in the shadows of the dense forest. His heart beat wildly, struggling to regain its calm.

This was no ordinary luminous being—it illuminated the very night sky itself.

In an age devoid of sun, moon, and stars, where shadows reigned supreme, the sudden appearance of such brilliance was nothing short of a miracle.

"The Moon Bug!" Qin Ming whispered to himself.

He had heard stories about it.

Elders often recounted tales to the younger generations about a distant, mythical past when there was a sun and a moon. As they spoke, their eyes would drift toward the heavens, as if mourning something long lost. To explain what the moon once looked like, they would always use the Moon Bug as an analogy.

"If one day you are fortunate enough to see the Moon Bug, then you will know what the moon once was."

When the Moon Bug appeared, there was no mistaking it. It became the singular presence in the sky—the undisputed, luminous sovereign.

At first, the glow that rose from the distant horizon was soft and gentle. Qin Ming squinted, unsure if his imagination was playing tricks on him. He thought he saw the faint outline of a colossal insect.

But now, that soft glow had transformed into a blazing spectacle—far too resplendent to resemble any kind of insect. It was as though countless streams of light had merged to form a radiant disc, adorned with a celestial crown. Its brilliance cascaded across the darkness, flooding the world with silvery light.

It was said that insects, small and insignificant, could never survive through the winter. Most perished with the autumn winds.

Yet the Moon Bug was different.

The elders claimed it had lived within the deep mountains for more than fifty years, an eternal fixture of legend. It rarely ventured beyond the heart of the wilderness, and its brief appearances were considered auspicious—or ominous, depending on one's perspective.

By the customs of the region, it had been inscribed into local lore as a famed insect—a being whose presence rivaled even ancient beasts and legendary mountain lords.

Qin Ming gazed at the radiant light in awe. Is this what the moon truly looked like in the ancient past?

In the dark sky, it was as if a divine lantern had been hung from the heavens, casting its silvery glow far and wide. The dense shadows of the mountains were swept away, and the jagged ridges and wild forests were bathed in an ethereal silver sheen.

The change was breathtaking.

What kind of world was that—a world of sun and moon? Qin Ming thought wistfully, mesmerized by the surreal beauty before him.

He understood, of course, that the Moon Bug's light only extended to the nearest hills, a mere fraction of what the true moon was said to offer. In the legends, the moon was boundless, its light spanning the vast heavens like a river of silver.

In this moment, the world was silent.

The Wild Boar King, the mysterious predator chasing it, and even the fiercest of beasts—all lay low. Not a sound disturbed the peace.

Then, without warning, a beam of light streaked across the sky.

The Moon Bug was leaving.

Its light faded as quickly as it had come. The wilderness once again fell into pitch-black silence, the silvery sheen dissolving into shadow.

Qin Ming felt an inexplicable emptiness in his chest, as though something precious had just slipped through his fingers. A strong yearning surged within him: When will I be able to roam freely like the Moon Bug, walking a path where even eternal darkness cannot obscure my steps?

But this was no time to dream.

Seizing the moment while all the beasts lay in fearful silence, Qin Ming grabbed his prey—the Knife-Horned Deer and the Donkey-Headed Wolf—and dragged them quickly over the hills.

From the depths of the great mountains came a bone-chilling roar that was abruptly cut short.

The Moon Bug had descended upon some powerful beast.

Silence fell once more. Even the most formidable named birds and heavily mutated beasts dared not make a sound.

Qin Ming finally caught sight of Double Tree Village in the distance. He exhaled softly, relieved to be close to home.

At the village entrance, he paused to glance back at the boundless wilderness, where darkness stretched as far as the eye could see.

The recent display of light and beauty lingered in his mind, leaving him dazed and awestruck.

The ancient moonlight, bright and boundless—where is it now?

"Grumble…" His stomach growled fiercely, pulling him back to reality. Qin Ming smiled wryly to himself. Why am I thinking about such ethereal things? I need to focus on filling my stomach.

The night was bitterly cold, and only a few children lingered at the village gate, chasing each other through the snow to keep warm.

"Brother Qin, you went into the mountains… and killed a Knife-Horned Deer all by yourself?!" A frail-looking boy exclaimed in disbelief, eyes wide.

Several children crowded around. Their small faces, reddened by the cold, froze in astonishment when they saw the massive Donkey-Headed Wolf lying beside the deer.

The beasts were enormous. They couldn't help but swallow nervously as they stared.

"Come to my house later. We'll eat some meat together," Qin Ming said, smiling warmly.

Dragging the two heavy beasts behind him, he strode through the village like a gust of wind. The tantalizing thought of freshly cooked meat spurred him on, almost making him forget the exhaustion of the hunt.

At his home, Qin Ming wasted no time starting a fire. The smell of roasting meat soon filled the air, thick and tantalizing.

As the flames crackled, he beckoned Lu Ze and Liang Wanqing over to help.

"Qin, you're hurt?" Liang Wanqing asked worriedly, noticing the bloodstains on his shoulder.

"Just a scratch—nothing serious," Qin Ming replied casually.

Lu Ze examined the wound, saw it had already scabbed over, and relaxed. "It's shallow. You'll be fine."

Soon, the rich aroma of meat simmering in the pot and roasting on the fire filled the small courtyard.

Qin Ming could no longer resist. Grabbing a knife, he sliced off a thin piece of roasted venison, still steaming hot, and popped it into his mouth.

"It's ready—and it's delicious!" he announced, grinning at Wenrui. "I've finally granted your wish today."

Wenrui, after taking a bite, was so delighted his eyes curved into crescents. He nodded enthusiastically, cheeks full. "It's so good! I can't even remember the last time I had meat. You're the best, Uncle Qin!"

As Qin Ming devoured mouthful after mouthful of meat, his body began to respond.

A flood of warmth surged through him, coursing through his veins and bones. His muscles seemed to hum with life, his joints crackling softly as they stretched and strengthened.

He could feel it—Rebirth. His body was being transformed, remade.

Word of his feat spread quickly through the village. People came to his courtyard in droves, marveling at the slain beasts and asking about the state of the mountains.

No one could believe it. A sixteen-year-old boy had not only hunted a Knife-Horned Deer but also killed a Donkey-Headed Wolf, a creature infamous for its savagery.

"Could it be that he's achieved Rebirth during the golden age?" someone whispered.

By the time the courtyard emptied, Qin Ming could barely keep his eyes open. His body, still undergoing its transformation, demanded rest.

The last thing he remembered was asking Lu Ze to distribute meat to the villagers and send extra to Zhou Grandma's family.

As Qin Ming lay down to sleep, his body emitted a faint mist of warmth. His heartbeat echoed like a drum, steady and powerful, resonating through the room.

Outside, Yang Yongqing watched silently, his face filled with awe.

"This boy…" Yang Yongqing muttered, his voice trembling. "His transformation isn't done yet."

For the first time in decades, a youth in Double Tree Village had broken through during the golden