Chapter 230
But this wasn't a comic, so nothing like that would happen. He'd heard tales of the ancient Titan tribe or Titan race, but those were just myths. They weren't reality. Even the discoveries of giant bones were mostly fabrications, as far as he knew. There was no real evidence that giants had ever existed on Earth.
But here, there had been real giants. The temple ruins proved it. And the watchmen guarding that place were connected to them somehow. What could that gold bar have been—a giant's card? Or maybe a tooth or claw? He still had no idea, but one thing was certain: it had saved him from death.
So he had to uncover its secret.
After lounging around for a while with nothing better to do, he started digging again. Shoveling earth and sweating through honest labor felt refreshing. It was better to dig like this for exercise than force himself into pointless chores.
About two hours later, he'd carved out a large pit. He took a break, gulping down water. Hanyaseong glanced at his body as he rested.
Had some special ability awakened? If Yadong's drawings and the dream were true, the gold bar might have been absorbed into his body, granting him some extraordinary power. Maybe he had a hidden ability he didn't even know about.
Deciding to test it, Hanyaseong stood up. Who knew—maybe forcing it would bring the power out.
He clenched his fists and focused. “Uwaaaah!”
Pouring every ounce of strength into his body, he willed any power to emerge. He might turn into a giant, golden armor could sprout from his skin, or some mystical substance might float in the air. His heart pounded with anticipation, convinced something would happen.
“Argh! Ack!”
But no matter how hard he strained and shouted, nothing appeared. It wasn't going to work like this.
For a good ten minutes, he grunted and heaved until he collapsed, panting, releasing the tension from his muscles.
“Damn it, how do I make it come out?”
He had no clue. He couldn't exactly injure himself like when the freak bird attacked, hoping for power to surge. Stabbing his own stomach with a knife? That was insane. He might risk minor self-harm, but not a fatal wound like that.
Thinking of other ways as dusk fell, he washed at the stream and returned to the shelter. Yadong was out wandering somewhere. For dinner, he decided on jjajangmyeon and set it boiling.
As it simmered, Yadong slunk back in. No wariness left, it plopped down by the fire, staring at the bubbling pot. Hanyaseong eyed it cautiously before probing.
“What happened to me?”
No answer. It just stared into the pot.
“Did I become a giant? Is that how I tore the freak bird apart?”
“Did I get golden armor? Did it grow out of my body?”
“What was that floating stuff? From the gold bar?”
“Did the gold bar absorb into me? How much did you see? Did I die and come back?”
Yadong growled low, demanding the jjajangmyeon faster. Sighing, Hanyaseong served it up. Yadong blew on the steaming noodles and devoured them. Hanyaseong ate too, letting out a frustrated breath. If only it would talk properly—he was dying to know. What the hell had happened that day? He even wished there'd been CCTV footage. Seeing it himself would make everything clear. Even Yadong's vague account left too much uncertain.
Hanyaseong scraped the leftover sauce into the pot with some rice, stirring it up. As Yadong waited eagerly for seconds, he stared it down.
“No details, no rice.”
It growled, baring its teeth in a scowl. Classic Yadong. But what could it do? Hanyaseong held the pot. He scooped a bite and chewed slowly. Yadong growled louder, flashing saber fangs.
“Talk properly, then you get it all.”
Yadong growled again, scratching the ground with its claws—drawing a picture. Was it depicting that moment? No, it was a pit.
“What's that?”
Confused, he asked. Growl—and it snatched the pot. The shovel and pit drawing screamed: Stop asking and dig the temple ruins.
“You mean keep digging now?”
Yadong buried its face in the pot, scarfing away. Silence meant yes. Suddenly, it felt like digging would reveal everything.
“So I have to dig after all.”
No other way. Something related to the gold bar was buried down there, no doubt. Hanyaseong burned with curiosity about what happened, but he resolved to dig first. Finding something might unlock the truth. His gut told him so.
“Fine. I'll find it, no matter what.”
Now curiosity alone drove him. He'd pour everything into digging.
“All day, every day!”
Pumping his fist in determination, Hanyaseong watched Yadong lick the pot clean, jjajang sauce smeared across its muzzle, clutching it in both paws.
The next day, hardcore digging began. Except for meals, he wielded shovel and pickaxe relentlessly, hacking at the earth. Exhausting, but the burning questions kept him going. Besides, there was nothing else to do.
He dug from sunrise to sunset. His entire routine became excavation.
Weeks turned into two months. He'd churned up nearly the whole temple site, pits merging into one massive crater—two meters deep, fifty meters wide.
Still, nothing. It must have been buried deep by someone.
Hanyaseong stopped expanding the pit and dug straight down. Hauling dirt out of a two-meter hole was grueling alone. No help in sight, he loaded fresh shoulder poles and trudged out to dump each one. Endless manual labor.
“When the hell is it gonna show?”
Gulping water, he stared into the gaping void. He'd dug for nearly two months straight. Nothing—and despair crept in.
“Is there even anything down there?”
Doubt gnawed at him. What if he kept going and found zilch? Anxiety mounted.
But only two months? He'd console himself with that. Six more months, or three years—he'd keep at it. Something might turn up. He clung to that hope.
That day, he quit early, washed at the stream, and headed back. Next morning, he'd hunt again, grabbing weapons and a pole. Yadong sulked in the corner, refusing to budge. Fine—solo hunt it was.
He'd sworn off hunting after the freak bird, but his guts had settled back to normal, and he craved the stress relief from digging. Sword and crossbow in hand, he headed to Forest 3.
If another freak bird appeared, he'd nail it with the crossbow. Last time, leaving it in the brush had cost him—he'd been defenseless.
Out on the vast plain, huge beasts grazed lazily. Skyward—no freak birds. Just unidentified large birds soaring, like oversized pigeons with three-meter wingspans. Not freak bird kin, but aggressive enough, probably.
Gripping sword and crossbow, Hanyaseong approached a flock of ostrich-hens on the side. Easiest prey—aiming for another leg haul.
Dumb as ever, they barely reacted to his approaching sword. Up close, he swung, severing one neck with a wet thwack. Head thudded to the dirt. The rest scattered in panic.
He scanned quickly. Big beasts ambled indifferently; sky birds flew on, none diving. He hacked off both legs, loaded the pole, slung it over his shoulder, and bolted for the brush.
No attacks en route. He'd half-hoped for a freak bird—none today. Next time, he'd kill it. Kin or family of the last one, for sure. Vengeance either way.
Hanyaseong hustled back with the ostrich-hen legs. Yadong gawked, drooling at the sight.
“Hey, I caught this. No drooling.”
Growl—protest:You lived thanks to me. The gold bar again. I gave it to you.