The withered yellow grass had either been overgrazed by herbivores or dried out excessively, leaving almost no visible blades, just hard, grayish-yellow roots. Some patches of grass had even lost their roots, exposing barren, sandy ground. A gray-black wild rabbit emerged from a sandy burrow, cautiously checking its surroundings. Not sensing any threats, it lowered its head to nibble on the grass roots. With winter approaching, all animals needed to build up fat during this last moment to survive the long, cold season.

In the distance, a tall figure crouched, gripping a sharpened spear, stealthily creeping closer to the plump rabbit like a wild leopard.

“Swish!”

The rabbit's feet trembled; it wasn’t pierced by the spear but had its head smashed flat instead. The figure quickly approached, grabbed the flattened rabbit, its fur untouched, and tied its legs with grass rope to hang it on the barb of the spear. Just as the newcomer was about to leave, he suddenly stopped, bending down to examine the ground closely.

On the slightly sandy grassland, a trace stretched from west to east, as if something like a wooden post had been dragged across. The man straightened up and followed the trace, which extended far ahead. Rubbing his fingers together, he raised his hand to sniff; he had found blood on the ground—dried, but still carrying a metallic scent. Whatever had left the blood—whether animal or human—couldn't have gone far in the last half day.

Injured animals or humans represented opportunity. The man licked his lips, his long, narrow black eyes revealing cruelty and greed. His scarred face, marked with bizarre patterns, made him appear extremely ferocious. One rabbit was far too little; he needed to find more food.

Following the trace eastward, he soon stumbled upon a small grassy area, about three or four yards wide. In the center was a depression that could hardly be called a pond, collecting murky yellow water, where quite a few water-loving wild grasses thrived. This was the only small patch of green nearby, and this shallow depression was the only water source within a twenty-mile radius.

At the edge of the puddle lay a human who seemed unaware of their dire situation. Whether exhausted or having exhausted their last breath, they had crawled to the water’s edge, one hand already submerged, yet their mouth had never touched the surface. The person was bare-chested, with a grass rope tied around their waist. Judging by the exposed skin, this person was quite young, not very tall, and emaciated to the point of being skin and bones, with only a hint of flesh remaining on their buttocks.

Flies, gathering from who knows where, along with countless other insects, had taken the collapsed human at the water's edge as today's, and even the next few days’ feast. They quickly settled on the person, preparing to dine. The most insects had gathered on the human's right leg.

A significant wound marred this leg, as if a wild beast had bitten just above the knee, breaking the bone. The injury seemed to have been crudely treated, with the broken bone tightly bound with grass rope. However, due to the hot weather or lack of medical treatment, the skin around the wound had begun to rot and ooze pus, while a multitude of white maggots crawled around the injury.

A black beetle bit into the rotting flesh of the leg, tearing away a chunk with its large pincers, trying to burrow into the fresh blood and meat inside with its sharp triangular head. The person lying on the ground jolted awake, startled by the pain.

“Damn…!”

Yan Mo couldn’t believe he had fainted like that. He had crawled for nearly a day to reach this water source, thinking he would dive into the puddle and drink his fill, only to black out instead. Ignoring the sharp pain in his right leg, he propped himself up and plunged his head into the puddle.

The water wasn't cold; it was slightly warm, but for someone who had been exposed to the sun all day, it felt cool enough to lower his temperature a bit. Yan Mo didn’t drink the water from the puddle; he just needed to clear his mind.

Drinking such dirty water without filtering it would likely cause significant problems, given his current injuries and health condition. He had already done a bit of reconnaissance while crawling over, noticing animal tracks at the puddle's edge. Based on his years of medical experience, the water didn’t seem toxic, and he wanted to scoop some water to let it settle before deciding how to drink it.

Now, he realized he might have developed a fever again due to an infected wound, and he couldn’t wait for the water to settle; he needed to cool off first. As soon as he could no longer hold his breath, Yan Mo emerged from the puddle, grateful for the scorching weather and desert-like climate, which meant there were no aquatic creatures in the puddle aside from wild grasses.

Every advantage has its trade-offs; he had initially hoped to find a couple of leeches to suck out the pooled blood near his wound. Dried leeches could be powdered and used to treat bruises, and they could also help with fractures, but now that possibility was gone.

Propping up his upper body, Yan Mo tucked his injured leg away and looked down to see that a black beetle had already burrowed halfway into his wound. He didn’t use his fingers to pull it out directly; instead, he broke a tough grass root, using it as a knife tip to cut into his flesh, ruthlessly extracting the half-buried beetle from his bloody meat.

Blood gushed out as Yan Mo plunged his hand into the puddle, reaching down to the bottom and pulling out a handful of muddy sand, which he smeared onto the wound. This was the most rudimentary and desperate method of stopping the bleeding.

After removing all the little insects that were feasting on his wound, only the white maggots gnawing on the rotten flesh remained. He didn’t bother with the mosquitoes circling around him; he simply couldn’t deal with them for the time being. A sarcastic smile curled at the corner of Yan Mo’s mouth.

Dragging his leg, he once again leaned over the puddle to scoop up a handful of water. The water was high in sand content, and it would take at least another day for it to settle completely if he wanted to collect it in another container. Drinking such sandy water would temporarily quench his thirst, but soon he would feel thirstier again, yet he could no longer resist.

Would he rather die of thirst now or later? Would he prefer to die of thirst or fall ill from drinking dirty water? Yan Mo found a spot that looked relatively clean, brushed off the visible dust and debris floating on the surface with his hand, quickly filtered it with his fingers, licked his lips, and drank.

The slightly odd-tasting water flowed down his throat, refreshing his entire body. Even though the water was hard to swallow, he drank gulp after gulp, not only quenching his thirst temporarily but also filling himself up with water.

After drinking, he sat there resting for a while, trying to ignore the pain in his leg as he had no better treatment method at the moment. Leaning forward to look at his reflection in the water, the rippling surface made it hard to see, but he could still vaguely make out his appearance.

His hair was a tangled mess, half-grown and itchy, and he had no idea how many lice were living in it. Touching his face, it felt relatively smooth; no stubble on his chin indicated he was still young. Judging by the skin and bones, Yan Mo guessed his age to be somewhere between twelve and sixteen. The discrepancy was large, primarily because he couldn't see his face clearly, and given the unique environment, assessing age by just skin was unreliable. In the desert, people tended to mature faster, making it hard for him to accurately gauge his age.

If only he had a knife; a lighter would be even better.