Chapter 1
The air crackled with the stench of blood and ozone. Ron spun, his long black hair whipping around his face, the metallic tang thick on his tongue. His sword, still slick with the ichor of the first beast, sang a low hum in the tense silence of the ravaged forest clearing. He'd moved with practiced ease, a dance of death honed over years in the wilderness, and the scaled monstrosity lay twitching at his feet.
But there was no time for respite. A low growl ripped through the quiet, and Ron's warrior instincts screamed. Behind him, a smaller, sleek shape, its fur the color of twilight, was coiled to strike. Its target: Jiang Feng, her face pale but resolute as she clutched a bloodied dagger, catching her breath after assisting in the previous kill.
"Jiang Feng, behind you!" Ron roared, his voice raw.
Without hesitation, Ron hurled himself towards the wolf-like beast. Not to attack, but to intercept. The impact was brutal. Bone crunched against hardened muscle, and a searing pain shot up Ron's left arm. The beast's fangs, wickedly sharp and unnaturally long, had sunk deep. He could feel the tear, the rending of flesh.
Around them, the pack of purple wolves, twenty strong by his rough count, and their leader – a creature larger and more powerfully built, radiating an aura of lethality that even Ron, an advanced level warrior, recognized as comparable to a senior warrior – paused their advance. A ripple went through their ranks, a silent understanding. They were making way, not in fear, but with a grim urgency. Their injured leader needed to be extracted.
Seeing the momentary opening, fueled by adrenaline and a primal fear for Jiang Feng's safety, Ron didn't hesitate. Ignoring the agony in his mangled arm, he snatched Jiang Feng's hand, his grip like iron. "Run!" he grunted, and they exploded into motion, tearing through the undergrowth at top speed.
Behind them, the air shimmered, then erupted in a deafening roar. Earth and tree fragments rained down as Ron's expertly placed explosive detonated. He didn't dare look back, but the wave of heat that washed over them and the chorus of panicked snarls that followed told him enough. The majority of the intermediate-level purple wolves, along with their high-level leader, would be caught in the blast.
They didn't stop running until their lungs burned and their legs screamed in protest. Finally collapsing behind a cluster of jagged rocks, Ron leaned heavily against the cold stone, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Jiang Feng knelt beside him, her eyes wide with shock and worry, fixated on his left arm, now a mangled mess of torn flesh and exposed bone below the elbow.
Days later, the sterile smell of antiseptic filled Ron's nostrils. He lay in a crisp white bed in Hanxia Central Hospital, a bandage wrapped thick around the stump of his left arm. Jiang Feng sat beside him, her youthful face etched with concern.
"Are you alright, Ron?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry. She had asked him this countless times since they'd been brought here.
Ron sighed, a weariness settling deep in his bones. "I'm alright, Jiang Feng. You've asked enough." He looked away, staring at the bland hospital wall. "You know I might not be able to go back to the wilderness like this."
"But… the wolves…" Jiang Feng began, her voice trembling.
"The explosive took care of most of them," Ron interrupted, a grim satisfaction in his tone. "It was a good gain for both of us, considering… everything." He shifted, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "I've already sent a substantial amount to the families of the others. Enough for their children to live comfortably."
He turned back to her, his gaze serious. "The remaining four million… the twenty million I entrusted to you – use it to find a new group. You're only nineteen, already an intermediate-level warrior. With your talent, you could even make it to the Elite Camp in a few months. As for me…" He managed a wry smile. "Maybe I'll find a nice girl, settle down, train some youngsters. An advanced-level warrior with a few years of experience can always find work as a trainer at an Extreme Martial Dojo."
But what Jiang Feng and everyone else in this world didn't know was that Ron wasn't from here. He was a transmigrator from a planet called Blue Star, his soul thrust into the world of "Swallowed Star." With only average aptitude, he'd barely reached the advanced level warrior stage at the age of twenty-three. Now, with half his left arm gone, his combat prowess was halved. Further advancement seemed a distant dream. Perhaps, he thought with a strange sense of acceptance, this was his cue to embrace the life of a side character.
He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Well, Jiang Feng," he said, forcing a lighter tone, "guess my days as a fearless warrior are over. One-handed and all, it's impossible to join another frontline group. But your potential is immense. Join another team for a few months, gain more experience."
Jiang Feng, who had been listening intently, her gaze fixed on his face, suddenly seemed to gather a hidden reserve of courage. Her voice, though still soft, held a newfound determination. "I like you, Ron. So… marry me."
Ron's forced laughter died in his throat. He stared at her, dumbfounded. He remembered meeting Jiang Feng at the Extreme Martial Dojo. He was already a senior martial artist then, and she was a green junior. He'd offered her some guidance, a few pointers. Their paths had intertwined further when they both passed the warrior test and joined the Black Tiger Warrior Group. For the past year and a half, they had faced life and death together. He'd sensed her feelings, a quiet admiration, a budding affection, but he'd never imagined she would be so direct.
"Jiang Feng…" he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm… I'm one-handed now. I might just be a burden, a stone tied to your growth."
Before he could say more, she leaned forward, her eyes locking with his. Without hesitation, she closed the small gap between them and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was brief but held a surprising intensity. Pulling back, her cheeks flushed but her gaze unwavering, she declared, her voice surprisingly firm, "You are mine now, Ron. Don't you dare even think about marrying another woman. I'm already arranging the marriage. Next month."
August 14th, 2046. A small, intimate wedding was held at the warrior residence. The grand celebrations were absent, but the families of the fallen Black Tiger mercenary group members were there, their presence a testament to the bond forged in shared danger. A few months had passed since Ron's discharge from the hospital. His left arm now sported a sleek, matte black mechanical prosthetic. It looked and moved almost like a natural limb, capable of everyday tasks, but it lacked the fine motor skills and durability required for combat.
Ron, tall and muscular at six-foot-two, his long black hair neatly styled, stood in a simple white suit. Beside him, Jiang Feng, almost six feet tall herself, radiated happiness in a flowing white dress. The ceremony was short and heartfelt.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the peaceful scene. Jiang Feng, her dark black hair spread across the pillow, had her arm draped possessively across Ron's chest, her grip gentle yet firm. Her skin was like porcelain against the dark sheets.
They ate breakfast together, a quiet contentment settling between them like a comfortable blanket. Their days fell into a rhythm of simple joys. Ron would occasionally visit the Extreme Martial Dojo, not out of necessity, but to scout for promising newcomers. He no longer needed to brave the wilderness, but his experience and advanced warrior status made him a valuable talent scout and trainer. He'd spend a few days each month guiding the young hopefuls, identifying those with exceptional potential and reporting his findings to the higher-ups.
Life as a side character, Ron mused one quiet evening as he watched Jiang Feng hum softly while preparing dinner, wasn't so bad after all. He had found a different kind of strength, a different kind of life, anchored by the fierce love of the woman who had claimed him as her own.