Otaku Translation: Honey Badger's Streaming Life C113

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Chapter 113: Stop Messing Around, Let Me Sleep a Little Longer

“Ah… I can’t walk anymore… I’m ready to give up!” Gu Lang lay sprawled on a massive rocky slope in the middle of the forest, gazing up at the sky as he muttered under his breath.

Wang Ping had been heading in the right direction, and Gu Lang had indeed heard the sound of water earlier, which led him to this ridge. But when faced with an almost eighty-degree incline, his courage faltered. He decided against descending from there and instead turned back to find a gentler path. Predictably, what he found was even worse—a steeper descent that seemed more treacherous than the first.

The slope where Gu Lang now rested was located on the eastern side of the valley, supposedly the flattest terrain in this mountainous region. Oddly enough, deep within these woods stood a colossal slope hundreds of meters long, as if some giant plow had scraped away the earth, exposing the rock beneath. From above, it bore clear signs of human intervention. However, years of neglect had allowed leaves to pile thickly over the surface, and weeds sprouted between cracks in the rocks.

Believing he’d stumbled upon a shortcut down the mountain, Gu Lang failed to notice the dangers lurking beneath the leaf litter. One misplaced step wedged his foot into a crevice, sending him tumbling painfully onto the unforgiving slope. His knees were scraped raw, and his ankle narrowly avoided twisting. Now every single step required careful probing—not only to avoid stepping into hidden fissures but also to prevent slipping on moss-covered stones concealed by fallen leaves.

After managing just a few dozen meters, Gu Lang collapsed onto the slope, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

"Gu Lang, get up already! You don’t know what dangers lurk in these wilds—you can’t stay here!" A tiny voice inside his head scolded, hands planted firmly on its hips.

"Haven’t you noticed how exhausted he is? He needs to recover his strength. What if he collapses halfway down because he pushed too hard?" Another voice chimed in, immediately contradicting the first.

"Bullshit! What danger could possibly come from going downhill? He’s just being lazy!" The first voice snapped back.

"How heartless are you? Can’t you see how tired he is? What harm is there in taking a short rest?"

As the two voices bickered back and forth, Gu Lang felt a throbbing pulse in his temples.

"Enough!" Gu Lang suddenly shouted, his voice echoing through the forest. The arguing ceased instantly, leaving behind only the ringing silence of tinnitus in his ears.

"Mmm… Just let me rest for a moment… just a little while…" Gu Lang sighed deeply, his eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Meanwhile, near the base of the mountain, by the very pond Gu Lang yearned for, Wang Ping stood atop a boulder overlooking their surroundings. The roar of a small waterfall filled the air, its mist enveloping the tranquil pool below. Though modest in size—about five meters square—the pool appeared unusually deep, its dark green hue obscuring any view of the bottom. Water cascaded from the opposite peak into the pond before flowing southwestward along the natural gradient of the land.

Behind Wang Ping, beneath a twisted willow tree beside the pond, sat a waist bag containing a drone. Not seeing Gu Lang nearby, Wang Ping sighed and returned to the tree, pulling something from the bag—a ginseng root.

While finding Gu Lang remained urgent, hunger couldn’t be ignored either. Returning to the edge of the pond, Wang Ping perched on the rock, dipped the ginseng into the water, and swirled it around to rinse off the dirt. Judging by the murky depths, the pond might have been ten or more meters deep; tossing someone like Gu Lang in wouldn’t even reach the bottom.

Just as the ginseng was nearly clean, a shadow darted beneath the surface.

"A fish?" Wang Ping’s stomach growled audibly in response. Compared to eating raw squirrels or rabbits, consuming raw fish didn’t seem quite so repulsive. After all, he’d indulged in sashimi countless times before during casual meals.

"If only I’d thought ahead—I should’ve made Gu Lang bring vinegar or wasabi," Wang Ping lamented silently.

Still clutching the ginseng, Wang Ping sat back on the rock and submerged his muddy paws in the cool water. Carefully plucking off the green stem atop the ginseng, he popped the cleaned root into his mouth and took a bite.

"Hmm, not bad… surprisingly crunchy." With each chomp, the crisp sound of gnawing echoed softly.

"Tastes bland though… not much flavor." Shaking his head, Wang Ping glanced at the discarded green stem beside him and picked it up. Sniffing the red ginseng berries at its tip, he extended his pink tongue, scooped one up, and bit into it.

"Oh? It’s sweet!"

And so, alternating bites of ginseng with nibbles of berries, Wang Ping devoured the entire plant—which rivaled the length of his arm—in no time.

"Burp~"

Clutching the bare stem in one paw, Wang Ping rubbed his bloated belly with the other.

"That’s strange… it wasn’t bigger than a carrot, and it's a vegetable—why do I feel so full?" Scratching his white-furred head, Wang Ping puzzled over the sensation. Meanwhile, his appetite for raw fish dwindled significantly due to the uncomfortable swelling in his stomach.

"Gurgle..."

Just as he prepared to move, another rumble emanated from his gut—but this time, it wasn’t hunger. Standing frozen on the rock, Wang Ping experienced a peculiar sensation, akin to flowers preparing to bloom. His furry face twisted in disbelief.

Isn’t ginseng supposed to be nourishing? Why did it upset his stomach?

Farther east, three figures emerged over the ridgeline, stepping out of the dense forest onto the top of the slope where Gu Lang lay sprawled. Leading them was a middle-aged man with sharp phoenix eyes and a scruffy beard, his face weathered by years of exposure to sun and wind on the grasslands. Behind him trailed two younger men in their thirties. Each carried large back baskets filled with opaque woven sacks.

Their features and builds were unmistakably Mongolian. In this area, most inhabitants belonged to ethnic minorities—Mongols, Oroqen, or Evenki tribespeople. Nothing unusual about that.

What set them apart, however, were the Mongolian knives strapped to their waists. The leader even carried a double-barreled shotgun slung across his back.

Brushing stray grass and leaves from their clothes, they began descending the slope. Suddenly, the leader raised an arm, halting the others.

"Someone’s here!" he said in Mongolian, distinct from Mandarin pronunciation.

"Swish!" One of the young men instinctively drew his knife.

"What are you doing? Put that away!" the older man scolded sharply. Cautiously, the trio approached Gu Lang.

"It looks like a lost traveler." Bending down, the leader reached out to pat Gu Lang, then paused, remembering something. Straightening up, he removed the shotgun from his back and hid it in his sack, covering it with the woven fabric. Only then did he squat beside Gu Lang, gently slapping his cheek.

"Hey, buddy, wake up!" he called in a northeastern Chinese accent.

"Mmm…?" Gu Lang opened his eyes groggily, shielding them from the sunlight as he mumbled, "Who is it… Stop messing around, let me sleep a bit longer…"

The three exchanged bewildered glances.

Seriously? This guy looked like he was napping comfortably on his own heated kang bed. Was he delirious from exhaustion?

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