Henry Clark let out a shout, but at this moment, there was nothing he could do. Even though he knew that, no matter how fast he ran, he could never reach that giant boulder, he still risked everything and dashed forward with all his might. This was truly a desperate struggle—if he didn’t run, he would die for sure; if he ran, there might be the slightest sliver of hope. Yet as he ran, Henry Clark felt a faint prickling pain on his back. He knew in his heart that the nine-clawed, human-faced bird had locked its gaze on him, and that prickling sensation was exactly where the monster’s attention was focused.

(Damn it, I’ve often heard that those who practice martial arts and temper their bodies to perfection can sense when others are watching them. I never thought that after becoming a soul, I’d have this ability too... But I’d rather not have it! I just hope that monster bird doesn’t come after me!)

The farther Henry Clark ran, the more terrified he became, and his fear only intensified. In his confusion, countless thoughts flashed through his mind, but in the end, only one remained: escape, survive. In this unprecedented state of focus, a layer of crackling lightning began to appear beneath his feet. The lightning made no sound, simply gathering under Henry Clark’s feet like a pair of shoes. As the lightning appeared, Henry Clark’s running speed increased dramatically, until he shot forward like a black shadow, covering several kilometers in just a dozen seconds. When Henry Clark finally reached the giant boulder and turned around, he was shocked to realize how far he had run. The black dot in the sky had only grown a little larger, still about seven or eight kilometers away.

(Huh? Did I really run that fast? Faster than a bird can fly...)

Seeing that he had actually reached his destination, Henry Clark was both astonished and overjoyed. He immediately began searching around the base of the giant boulder, hoping to find another crevice to hide in. But the more anxious he became, the more mistakes he made. In his haste, he kept trying to explore the large cracks under the boulder, and as he reached into a narrow gap, his wrist got stuck. The more he panicked, the harder it was to pull free. By the time he finally yanked his hand out, a vicious gust of wind struck the back of his head. He didn’t even have time to look back—he could only roll instinctively to the side. Then, a soul-tearing pain shot through his left leg: his leg had been completely torn off at the knee.

The nine-clawed, human-faced bird had swooped down from the sky, all nine claws outstretched. If Henry Clark hadn’t dodged quickly, he would have been shredded to pieces. Even so, the monster managed to rip off one of his thighs. Not only that, but the bird’s forceful dive embedded it into the giant boulder. Its claws were so sharp and its strength so immense that a thunderous crash erupted as the boulder shattered into pieces. This was a boulder dozens of meters tall, yet it was split apart by a single strike. The falling rocks rained down like a storm, pinning Henry Clark’s lower body beneath the rubble, leaving him completely unable to move.

Only then did Henry Clark finally get a clear look at the nine-clawed, human-faced bird. It was about eight or nine meters long, and when it spread its wings, they stretched nearly twenty meters across. It stood three or four meters tall, even more terrifying and hideous than the human-headed giant wolf. The bird’s face resembled that of a woman, but her features were twisted and grotesque—just one glance would chill anyone to the bone. Worse still, the woman’s mouth emitted a constant, piercing screech, like iron wire scraping against glass, making Henry Clark’s eardrums feel as if they would burst—even though he was now only a soul.

The nine-clawed, human-faced bird stuffed the human leg in its claw into its mouth and chewed voraciously. The thigh instantly dissolved into glowing particles and vanished. Seemingly unsatisfied, the monster let out another shrill scream and turned its face toward Henry Clark. This time, it didn’t use its claws, but instead opened its mouth wide and lowered its head, as if intending to swallow Henry Clark whole. The sight utterly shattered the last remnants of Henry Clark’s consciousness. He was now trembling violently, his mind filled with nothing but terror, the urge to survive, and a flood of memories replaying over and over...

They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. But Henry Clark died so quickly—burned to a crisp by high-voltage current—that there was no time for memories to replay. Instead, it was only after death that he experienced this. Now, with even his soul dying, he didn’t know if this counted as truly turning to dust. Henry Clark didn’t understand any of it; he just kept recalling his past, from the haziness of birth, to the mischief of childhood, to the doting affection after his sister was born, and finally to his gradual maturity... his parents’ aging faces, his sister’s sweet smile as she called his name, and even her, who didn’t occupy much space in his memories...

All these scenes replayed in Henry Clark’s mind, and the more he remembered, the less he wanted to die. He wanted to keep living, to care for his parents, to watch his sister grow up, to hold her hand again. There were so many things he still wanted to do—how could he just die like this? He was unwilling! He didn’t want to die!

“No, no... I don’t want to die!”