Thirteen years ago, Fu Qiran was sixteen years old.

That year, he left the Fu family and went to the Dark Forest.

It is said to be a dark forest, but in fact it is just a man-made name.

To be precise, it was a hunting ground.

A hunting ground where you win or you live, and if you lose, you die.

There, there are beasts unimaginable to ordinary people.

There are also people from all over the world.

They enter the hunting ground for different purposes, and their only goal is to survive.

Only by surviving can you get what you want.

At that time, the Fu family was in the hands of Fu Taiheng.

That person didn't want Fu Qi to die all the time.

And Fu Qiran at that time, his body was weak, and entering the hunting ground was his only choice.

If taken out alone, it will also be a singing and crying story.

But those people were still buried in that forest.

The people who enter the hunting ground seem to be burdened with the joys and sorrows unique to human beings.

Those joys and sorrows are not the same, nor are they the same.

At that time, Fu Qiran dragged his ruined body and shuttled between the trees.

Danger in the wild is not only those enemies with malicious intentions, not only those ferocious beasts, but also the harsh living environment.

Chasing, hunting, intrigue, ambition.

Those dramas staged in the hunting ground seem to be a human farce.

Death approached him.

He could hear his heart beating slowly, slower and slower, slower and slower.

Most of the food in the forest has parasites, and Fu Qi is infected with strange poison, and if he is not careful, he may die.

In the chase, Fu Qiran, who had been hungry for three days and three nights, had no light in his eyes.

The pink was tender, obviously surrounded by tall trees and green grass, but that touch of pink still crashed into his eyes.

He ran over, crouched down, and flicked it gently, and under the little tender flower was a piece of bread.

There was a faint flower in front of him, and the next moment, he was about to fall into the boundless darkness.

It was at that time that he saw a flower.

He gobbled it up, as if grasping the hope of life.

During the month he spent in the hunting grounds, he would always see that little flower whenever he was in a desperate situation.

Fluffy bread with a sweet flavor.

His eyes lit up, and his desire for life made him forget how unreasonable the bread was.

But under the delicate flowers, there will always be something strange.

A bottle of clean water, a piece of fluffy bread, a piece of beef jerky that is somewhat dry but provides energy, or even a piece of anti-inflammatory, a knife.

The florets are very fragile, as if they will fall when the wind blows.

The petals with only three petals are crumbling, and with a slight pinch, the petals will crumble into powder.

But a year later, he designed the owner of the hunting ground and recovered the hunting ground.

After that, he went back into the hunting ground to look for the delicate little flower.

It was those things that sustained him out of the hunting ground and became the only one who survived that year.

He got the status and money he wanted.

He searched for a long time, and even set foot on the hunting grounds, but found nothing.

There are no delicate flowers, and there are no traces of the presence of bread beef jerky.

No, nothing.

Later, the doctor told him that he might have concocted a fantasy for himself under extreme danger but a strong desire to survive.

The delicate and delicate little flower is the support point in his fantasy.

When he no longer needs it, it disappears.