East Continent, Cangwu Mountain Range, Forgotten Dark Forest.
The Iron-Clawed Bear's massive paw caved in Shi Jing skull like an overripe melon.
Again.
He should have been terrified. Should have been screaming. Instead, as his vision faded to black and his brain matter painted the forest floor, he felt nothing but cold irritation.
Twenty-three deaths and counting. This bastard's getting predictable.
He swear if the system had a notification sound for his death, it would be for unlocking an achievement.
[Ding Ding!]
[Host has died over 20 time, unlocking new achievement!]
[+20% Tenacity!]
Something like that.
Fortunately, ever since his transmigration, the only message he had was this:
[SSS Rank Skill: Regression]
[Number of Transmigrator: 35]
This message is a reminder that he was not alone in this desolate world. But with his current circumstance, he didn't think much about these 35 people that he don't know yet.
At this moment, the familiar sensation hit, falling through an endless void, weightless and numb, then bang.
Life again.
He gasped awake under the same crimson maple tree, morning sunlight filtering through blood-red leaves.
Shi Jing hand raises to his head. Intact. Whole. The phantom pain of having his skull crushed faded like smoke.
Three weeks. That's how long he had been stuck in this loop, dying over and over in this godforsaken wilderness. Three weeks since a truck had sent him from downtown Shanghai to whatever fresh hell this cultivation world had to offer.
The first few deaths had been... educational.
Death One: Crimson Boar. Gored through the stomach while I begged and cried like a child.
Death Two: Poisonous fruit. Convulsions and vomiting blood while screaming for my mother.
Death Three: Same boar. This time I tried running. It was faster.
Those early deaths had been pathetic. He clung to his old life, old morals, and old weaknesses.
He actually thought someone would save him. That this was all some nightmare he'll wake up from.
This hellish wilderness of a cultivation world as a mortal was too frightening!
By death ten, he stopped crying.
By death fifteen, he stopped caring about pain.
By death twenty, he realized the truth: this world didn't give a shit about Shi Jing the office worker. It only respected strength. And his regression?
"Its infinite." Even saying this, he couldn't believe it, but the truth seemed to point this way.
Quickly, death became his greatest friend.
When he was bored, he would open the system notification that display [SSS Rank Skill: Regression] and stare at it like it was the most delightful delicacy in the world.
And to him, it is.
This cheat was just too damn perverted. Just looking at it all day before dying to the iron-clawed bear would still filled him with satisfaction.
At this moment.
He stood up with practiced efficiency, brushing dirt from his clothes.
Every movement was calculated, no wasted energy or unnecessary emotion. The morning routine was muscle memory: check surroundings, identify threats, begin the life of a runaway.
The Iron-Clawed Bear was approximately two kilometers northeast, following the same patrol route it had for the past week.
A wild beast with claws that could shred steel and hide thick enough to turn aside blades. Apex predator of this particular stretch of forest.
It had killed him twenty-three times.
Today, that streak ended.
He moved through the forest like a ghost, avoiding the Thornwhip Vines that had paralyzed him in death seven, skirting the Screaming Moss that had driven him insane in death twelve.
Every trap, every danger, every single threat in this hellscape, he mapped them all in great details.
Twenty minutes later, he crouched behind his usual boulder, watching the bear lumber through its territory.
Three meters tall, muscles like coiled steel under midnight-black fur, those claws glinting like obsidian daggers.
In his first life, he tried diplomacy.
"Good bear, be nice, please don't eat me!"
It had eaten him. Damn animal, it probably can't even speak human language. Why did he even try being civil?
By death ten, he attempted crude weapons, sharpened sticks, rocks, even tried to set snares.
All useless. Its fat and thick skin seem to form an armor to block against cold weapons.
But observation had taught him something crucial: the bear wasn't invincible. It could bleed. It could be hurt.
And it had a weakness—a old scar on its left flank where something had gouged deep grooves through its hide.
Clearly he wasn't the first victim to this fat bear. There was a predecessor before him, and that made him feel a little better about his death.
More importantly, he discovered he wasn't entirely ordinary. This is besides his regression of course.
During death eighteen, when the bear had nearly decapitated him and he felt something strange. A surge of energy, hot and electric, flooding through his body just before everything went black.
At first he dismissed it as dying hallucinations.
But it had happened again in death twenty. And twenty-one. And twenty-two.
Each time stronger. Each time more controlled.
Each time, he retained the sensation a little longer after waking up.
Whatever had brought him to this world, it hadn't sent him empty-handed.
The bear approached his hiding spot, massive head swinging back and forth as it scented the air. He learned its patterns perfectly—in thirty seconds, it would turn left toward the stream. That gave me a fifteen-second window.
He waited, counting heartbeats, feeling that strange energy building in his chest like a coiled spring.
Twenty-eight... twenty-nine... thirty.
The bear turned.
And he exploded from behind the boulder.
The bear spun with surprising speed, roaring as it reared on its hind legs.
Its claws flashed toward his head in the same motion that had killed him twenty-three times before.
But this time, he was ready. After all, This movement was too predictable.
The energy in his chest erupted outward, flooding his limbs with extraordinary strength.
He twisted aside, feeling the claws whistle past his ear and drove his fist toward the bear's scarred flank with everything he had.
His frail fist produced the roar of thunder, and for a split second, there was a white light.
The bear flew.
Literally flew backward, crashing through a tree trunk thick as his waist before slamming into the rocky outcropping beyond. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground.
Followed by a storm of leaves from the trees.
He stared at his fist in shock. The skin was scraped raw, but underneath, his knuckles was covered in a thin layer of white mist.
Whatever power this was, it allowed him to unleash great might.
Could he have unknowingly awakened a second skill?