Chapter 7 - Encounter

Outside the village, darkness enveloped everything, blurring the lines between objects. Hardly anyone ventured out at this hour. "Uncle Yang?" Not far from the village, Qin Ming noticed a sturdy man. Yang Yongqing, surprised, responded, "Little Qin, Shallow Night hasn't even started, and you're heading out already?" "I thought I'd try my luck in the wild, see if any mountain beasts perished in the cold," Qin Ming replied. Yang Yongqing chuckled, "We had the same idea. I've just been for a round outside the mountains, but sadly, came back empty-handed." Qin Ming was taken aback. This burly middle-aged man had already returned from the outside; that was quite early. "Uncle Yang must be hunting for some elusive, spiritual rare beast, right?" he thought, aware that Yang Yongqing was reputedly skilled, one of the few newly awakened individuals in Twin Tree Village. They had barely exchanged a few words when they noticed shadows swaying in the distance. "Patrollers," Yang Yongqing whispered. In an era devoid of the sun, the wilderness was exceedingly perilous, requiring skilled patrolmen to scout and warn of dangers. A man in leather armor appeared. He was tall, carrying a bow and arrows and clutching an iron spear, his long hair cascading freely, exuding raw, primal power. "Brother Shao," Yang Yongqing greeted proactively. Shao Chengfeng nodded. He was around forty, with sharp eyes, and stopped nearby, asking, "This youngster with you, not that Sick Boy, I hope?" "The Sick Boy's from the neighboring village," Yang Yongqing clarified. "Your Twin Tree Village hasn't produced a newly awakened of the golden age in decades," Shao Chengfeng remarked bluntly. Yang Yongqing found it understandable; few in the area awakened at fifteen or sixteen, and talent couldn't be forced. He added, "Who could have predicted the Sick Boy's prowess early on? I've heard that after restoring his health, his physical abilities have improved significantly." Shao Chengfeng nodded, "He's indeed exceptional, but can he compare with the elites of Bright City?" "Tough question. Different regions foster different talents," Yang Yongqing reflected, having witnessed the city’s splendor and the marvel of advanced cultivation techniques. "True," Shao Chengfeng agreed. "I've heard that there are two outstanding youngsters there, surpassing any golden-age newly awakened, a boy, and a girl, impressing the entire region." "That place is truly blessed," Yang Yongqing said, his voice tinged with admiration but not envy, recognizing the distance and incomparable nature of their worlds. Qin Ming had been listening intently, choosing not to interrupt. After a brief pause, Shao Chengfeng disappeared into the night. No one knew the caliber of creatures lurking deep in the pitch-black mountains or how many dangerous clans were out there, necessitating the vigilance of the patrollers on the outskirts. "Do patrollers venture into the mountains every day?" Qin Ming asked. "Some are very committed," Yang Yongqing replied. Qin Ming was surprised—did this imply others were less responsible? The bushy-bearded, burly man answered so obliquely. "The situation in the mountains is unusual now—dangerous. I estimate a 'Sweep Action' will soon be ordered from above, likely accompanied by disciples from noble houses. Little Qin, strive to awaken in the golden age," Yang Yongqing advised, patting his shoulder. "Perhaps a high-born girl’s favor could change your fate." The two parted ways, with Yang Yongqing returning to the village. Qin Ming processed the information, heading towards the wilderness. He moved swiftly, traversing the chest-deep snow as if cutting through waves, snowflakes scattering to the sides. By now, the night wasn't as deep; Shallow Night had arrived, and the forest appeared faintly visible. Standing outside the mountains, Qin Ming remained vigilant, knowing the unseen landscape might harbor threats. His stomach growled audibly, signaling hunger once more. Earlier, he had restrained his appetite upon encountering familiar faces but now could deny it no longer. With his stomach churning in acid, he stared into the dark forest, gripped his hunting spear, and darted inside. He bypassed the residence of the mutated squirrels, crossed the low hill, venturing farther than before. After delving deeper into the woods, he came across various signs, like shattered bones and large hoof prints. The animals had already trampled pathways in the snow. A sobbing sound echoed, akin to a woman weeping—uncommon in these desolate woods. Qin Ming sped up, homing in on the source of the sound, soon nearing his destination. Amidst the pitch-black forest, pairs of emerald eyes stared at him—about a dozen creatures, obscured in shadow. To those unaware, the cries might seem unnerving. But for the experienced outdoorsman, it could spell opportunity. Qin Ming brandished his hunting spear and charged forward. Immediately, a flurry of wings filled the dark sky as the dozen creatures took off, startled. These were carnivorous night birds, two feet long, flocking together, with cries reminiscent of lamenting spirits, preying on small animals and sometimes attacking humans. Qin Ming cursed his luck as he rushed forward, finding only bloody bones and shredded hide—a muntjac devoured to nothing. Disappointed in failing to snatch food from the birds, he turned back, wary of their predatory nature. On an open, sparse woodland patch marred with bloodstains, enormous paw prints larger than bowls revealed the feeding ground of a large beast. The leftover scraps now scavenged by other carnivores. As Lu Ze had noted, even the outskirts had grown perilous, suggesting even greater dangers within the mountains. Cautious, Qin Ming left the bloody scene behind. Soon after, he discovered several hoof prints in the snow, electrifying his spirits as he followed them. In the night, a score of bulky shadows loomed ahead, gathered imposingly. "Blade-antler Deer!" Qin Ming's face lit with joy. In the past, this region rarely saw deer herds. He readied his bow and arrow, aiming at a large stag. These were no docile deer; the adult males bore six antlers, spread across their head and pointing forward, flat and sharp like six steel knives. A collision would result in lethal wounds. Even some predators hesitated to confront them head-on, choosing instead to attack from behind. For a human to be caught among them spelled certain doom. Qin Ming tightened his bowstring to a full moon, and with a whistle, an iron arrow shot like lightning into the stag's lungs. Blade-antler Deer were notoriously fierce, known to challenge predators. Even wounded, the stag charged directly at Qin Ming. Momentarily startled, the herd followed, racing towards him through the splattering snow, their hooves a rapid drumbeat that seemed to shake the forest. Qin Ming remained composed, drawing his bow again to hit precisely, his arrow penetrating the stag’s chest, sending it into a quivering halt. Securing his bow, he nimbly climbed a large tree, perching several meters above. In these dense woods, targeting from a tree was difficult due to obstructive branches. The stag staggered before crashing down in the snow. Startled, the herd paused, then thunderously retreated into the distance. Qin Ming waited, ensuring no dangerous beasts lurked, then leapt down and advanced with his hunting spear. The black-browned Blade-antler Deer was extraordinarily brawny, weighing around seven hundred pounds, undiminished during winter. Delighted with the catch, he resolved to leave the perilous woods. Dragging the deer, he sprinted along the path he had come. Appreciating the benefits of awakening, he marveled at his increased strength, allowing him to haul the heavy prey through the snow without tiring. In the wilderness, towering trees like larch and spruce stretched dozens of meters into the night sky. The mountain wind picked up, swirling snow particles stung his face. In the howling cold, Qin Ming felt a hairy paw rest on his shoulder. He sensed the heated breath on his neck, realizing a gaping maw sought his nape. He instantly ducked and rolled to one side, the bear-like grip tearing his coat and grazing his shoulders. The snow burst apart as a menacing shadow leaped, massive and muscular. But Qin Ming reacted swiftly, snake-like on the ground, slipping free. The shadow lunged again, its claws capable of flaying a face, its shining teeth bared menacingly. Though not yet upright, Qin Ming remained calm, gripping the forelimbs that menaced him. The claws hovered near his face but couldn’t descend. Now facing his foe, he recognized the creature. It had a large donkey head, a broad mouth fringed with long black mane from its neck, and a wolf’s body, fiercely lunging for his throat. It was dangerously tense, the hot, foul breath from its blood-stained maw spraying over him. Composed, he manipulated the forelimbs, using its claws against its fangs. Meanwhile, coiling himself to steady his stance, he unleashed a powerful kick to its belly. Qin Ming exploited his newfound strength from awakening, launching the beast, hundreds of pounds of solid muscle, tumbling across the ground. "A Donkey-head Wolf!" he discerned, grasping his opponent’s identity. Also known as a "Mountain Hybrid," this creature bore a donkey’s head and wolf’s body, but far surpassing usual wolves. Typically weighing no less than one hundred eighty pounds, this one was mutated, weighing around four hundred pounds. Ordinary folk stood no chance against it. With elongated limbs, the Donkey-head Wolf could walk upright. Local elder stories described strange sightings of Mountain Hybrids carrying prey. The mutant beast was both fierce and cunning, pressing Qin Ming's hunting spear into the snow. Qin Ming was taken aback by its wit, shrewdly separating him from his weapon. The Donkey-head Wolf fixed him with a bloodthirsty glare. Its bristling mane resembled porcupine quills as it rose tall, howling defiantly. Qin Ming, unfazed, drew his shortsword from behind, advancing. Amid awakening, he believed he could kill the beast barehanded. The Donkey-head Wolf lunged, a fetid wind at its heels, its advance scattering snow and shattering branches, dislodging tree-top snowflakes. Qin Ming’s shortsword met its claws with a ringing clash. The beast, upright and red-eyed, yearned to grapple and rend flesh. With blinding speed, Qin Ming sliced his shining blade across its maw, shearing teeth that glistened in the dark. Advancing swiftly, his leg swung like an iron whip, striking the wolf with bone-cracking force, evoking its pained screech. Qin Ming pounced, pinning the four-hundred-pound beast to the snow, raining down punches. With a final crunch, the wolf’s neck snapped, its corpse limp and lifeless. The Donkey-head Wolf was a mutated creature; its sleek, midnight-black hide held significant worth, nearly untouched. Witnesses would stand shocked, for Qin Ming had beaten a fierce mutated Donkey-head Wolf to death with his bare fists. Soon, he discovered an iron arrowhead lodged within its body. He knew this must be the creature that had attacked him when he raided the red squirrel nest. From afar, the details were vague, but he had surely wounded it with an arrow. Qin Ming touched his shoulder; the injury was shallow, blood quickly staunched. It had been a close call. Delayed reaction would have shredded his shoulders and snapped his neck. He felt drained, his stomach a roaring drumbeat of hunger. Despite craving roasted venison, it was too dangerous to light a fire, a beacon in the night attracting every forest creature’s attention. Looking at the fallen Donkey-head Wolf and nearby Blade-antler Deer, glancing at the low mountain, hauling both beasts would be arduous. He decided to ease his burden. The freshly slain prey, bodies warm, bled profusely as he sliced their hides open with a knife, staining the snow crimson. Often fending for himself, the unassuming, delicate-featured youth possessed remarkable survival skills. Swiftly wielding his knife with simplicity and efficiency, he gutted the carcasses, burying the remains in snow to mask their scents. “Let’s hope no dangerous creatures lurk nearby,” Qin Ming hoped, deeming the outskirts relatively safe. Just midway up the mountain, a distant tumult reached his ears. Not a mere sound, but an uproar unnerved many forest inhabitants—birds scattered skyward, mountain beasts galloped away. "Did the scent lure a giant beast?" Qin Ming frowned, eyeing the distant woods. Advancing roars neared, snow churned beneath, branches snapped, signaling something massive. Soon, he sighted a colossal creature, as menacing and unyielding as an armored chariot, toppling every obstacle. The hulking beast, stained in blood, appeared a vanquished titan escaping to this region, not specifically drawn to Qin Ming. He inhaled sharply, recognizing a massive wild boar, imposing at fifteen hundred pounds or more. Recall: a six-hundred-pound boar could rule its tribe, and this one dwarfed kin, bristled with steel-needle fur, its tusks extending longer than grown men’s forearms—ferociously majestic. Wondering what force had overpowered such a massive beast, prompting its flight, Qin Ming pondered the relentless entity trailing it. Originally expecting the giant boar to pass by below, Qin Ming tensed when it flared its nostrils and charged up the low mountain. Now keenly sensitive due to injuries, the blood scent had provoked it. Qin Ming realized he was in peril—not merely from the formidable beast but from its pursuer that might follow suit. Distant forest murmurs reached his ears. The wind stilled, gone. Mountainous wild boar surged brutally relentless, snow erupted beneath its weight; branches rendered debris along its path, some brittle trees split in their trunks. Slightly shaken, Qin Ming scaled a great tree, requiring several men’s spread arms to encircle, on high, readying to shoot its eyes or heart. Near, the colossal wild boar, coarse black fur spiked-backed, lifted its gaze, its face discernible beneath dark scales, glinting metallic and sinister, more ghastly. Frowning, Qin Ming faced the imposing giant wild boar fixated on him, nocking the iron arrow, aiming below. Unease crept in; the forest silenced abruptly—birds and beasts vanished, the vast woods deserted, abnormally serene. Meanwhile, on a distant peak, a glow rose—softly at first, then brightening, gradually climbing. At once, the rampant wild boar did not utter a sound; it retreated noiselessly, seeking shade in thick woods, finally crawling into a hollow, shrouded under snow. Eternal Night, the sky should be void, like endless pitch-black. But in the night sky now, that glow intensified, a moon-like effulgence omnipresent. Qin Ming’s heart thudded in awe, recognizing the glow’s true form—a Moonworm.