It dies. And it dries.
Ji Han was awakened not by a noise, but by a beam of concentrated ultraviolet light searing a hole through his "roof" and burning his shin.
He jerked his leg back, hissing in pain. He looked up.
The shelter he had spent hours constructing—the azure fortress of grass—was failing. The thick, blue stalks had lost their vibrant color, turning a sickly, bleached grey. They had shrunk as the moisture evaporated, pulling apart the weave. What was once a solid mat was now a sieve.
The smell of the air had changed, too. It smelled like hay. Like dry, roasting straw.
"Structural failure," Ji Han rasped. He reached up and touched a stalk. It crumbled into dust between his fingers.
It wasn't just falling apart; it was becoming dangerous. The heat outside was intense enough that the dry grass felt hot to the touch. If the temperature climbed much higher as "Noon" approached, he wouldn't be sleeping in a shelter; he would be sleeping inside a potential bonfire.
He looked at Lin Qinghe. The slivers of sunlight piercing the roof were dancing across her face. She was frowning in her sleep, turning her head to avoid the glare.
"We can't stay here," Ji Han said. "We need earth. Thick, cool earth."
He crawled out of the crumbling lean-to. The heat hit him like a physical blow, heavier than yesterday. The violet sun seemed to pulse in the sky.
He looked at the ground inside the shelter. It was shaded, but the soil was hard and dry.
He needed a shovel. He looked at his sword. He shook his head. If he broke the sword digging a hole, he would have no way to harvest grass or defend against... whatever might eventually thaw out.
He scanned the perimeter. He needed a tool.
He walked to the "Mud Basin" near the northern rocks. The water level was disappointingly low—barely a mouthful. He drank it greedily, ignoring the grit.
Near the basin, he found a flat, triangular stone. It was slate-grey, with a jagged edge.
"Stone Age technology," Ji Han muttered, weighing it in his hand. "Fitting."
He returned to the shelter. He couldn't dig outside; the sun would kill him in an hour. He had to dig inside the failing lean-to, using the crumbling grass as a temporary shield while he excavated a more permanent one.
He knelt beside Lin Qinghe.
"Move," he whispered, gently pushing her toward the back of the lean-to, against the boulder.
She groaned but didn't wake.
Ji Han positioned himself in the center of the small shaded area. He gripped the triangular stone with both hands and drove it into the dirt.
Clack.
The ground was like concrete.
"Come on," he grunted, slamming the stone down again.
Clack. Scrape.
He managed to loosen a handful of dust.
This was going to take forever. The caloric cost was too high. He was panting after three strikes. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"The Dao is in the emptiness..."
The manual's words floated through his mind.
Ji Han stopped. He looked at the stone. He looked at his trembling arms.
"Don't just use muscle," he scolded himself. "Use the cheat. Use the method."
He closed his eyes. He performed the checklist. Tongue to roof. Breathe with pores.
He felt the heat again. It was stifling, trapped under the drying grass. But this time, he noticed something else.
The air in the shelter tasted... different. It was thick. Acrid.
"The grass is dying," a voice rasped from the corner.
Ji Han's eyes snapped open. Lin Qinghe was watching him. Her eyes were glassy, but she was lucid.
"The Wood Qi," she whispered, pointing a trembling finger at the grey, crumbling roof. "When the vessel breaks, the energy leaks. You are sitting in a cloud of dissipating Qi."
Ji Han looked up at the withered stalks. "It's leaking?"
"It is returning to the world," she said. "The grass releases its essence as it dies. It is... volatile. Wild."
"Can I use it?"
"It is impure," she warned. "It carries the essence of decay. But..." She looked at his triangular stone. She looked at his exhausted state. "You have no choice. Do not breathe the heat of the sun right now. Breathe the death of the grass."
"How?"
"Visualize the grey mist," she instructed. "It is not hot like the sun. It is bitter. It is dry. Pull it into your lungs. Let it fill your muscles, not your Dantian. Use it as fuel for the body, not the soul."
Body Tempering.
Ji Han understood. He wasn't trying to build magic points; he was trying to juice his muscles with supernatural steroids.
He closed his eyes. He ignored the heat of the sun and focused on the smell of the hay. He imagined the grey dust falling from the roof entering his nose.
It tasted awful. Bitter. Chalky.
But as he inhaled, a strange sensation prickled in his biceps. It felt like his muscles were tightening, becoming wired. It wasn't the warm, fluid sensation of the sun; it was jerky and jagged.
He gripped the stone.
Inhale the decay.
He slammed the stone into the ground.
THUD.
The sound was different. Deeper. The stone bit three inches into the hard earth.
Ji Han stared at his hands. "It works."
"Don't stop," Lin Qinghe coughed. "The energy fades fast. Dig."
Ji Han fell into a rhythm. Inhale the bitter air. Strike. Exhale. Scoop the dirt.
Strike. Scoop. Strike. Scoop.
He was a machine fueled by dying grass. The hole grew. Six inches. One foot.
The deeper he went, the cooler the soil became. At two feet deep, the earth was noticeably damp.
He dug a trench wide enough for two bodies. It was like digging a grave, but to Ji Han, it looked like a palace.
Above them, the grass roof finally gave up. A large section of the weave snapped and collapsed, showering them in dust and letting a massive beam of sunlight crash into the trench.
The heat spiked instantly.
"Down!" Ji Han barked.
He grabbed Lin Qinghe and pulled her into the trench. It was a tight fit. They were pressed shoulder to shoulder, lying in the cool, damp earth, two feet below the surface.
The sunlight blazed overhead, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, but the direct rays couldn't reach them in their earthen slot.
The temperature dropped by twenty degrees.
Ji Han slumped against the dirt wall, his chest heaving. The jagged energy in his muscles faded, leaving him trembling and sore.
[System Notification: Proficiency Gained.][Basic Breathing Technique: 7/100][New Attribute Unlocked: Strength +0.1]
He looked at the notification. Strength +0.1. It was pathetic. It was everything.
He looked at Lin Qinghe. She was lying with her eyes closed, her cheek pressed against the cool mud.
"We are underground," she whispered. "Like worms."
"Worms survive," Ji Han said, closing his eyes. "Eagles burn."
He reached up and pulled the remaining bundles of dry grass over the top of the trench, creating a camouflage lid. It wouldn't stop the rain, but it would hide them from the sun.
For the first time in twenty-four hours, they were cool.