Chapter 3 - The Wilderness

As Shallow Night descended, the silence shattered; households hustled, heading to Fire Spring for the Sunstones. Qin Ming prepared to depart, fully armed with a hunting fork, a short knife, and a bow and arrows. He'd eaten the flatbread sent by Lu Ze but didn't mention his intent to go outside, fearing he'd be dissuaded. Qin Ming had no desire to risk his life and planned to test his luck in a relatively safe area. He had pondered a long while, recalling a glimpse of a creature seen in the autumnal forest, instinctively guessing it resided nearby. "I hope it's still there, ready to surprise me." The outside world fell into quietness, with no one retrieving Sunstones anymore. Qin Ming embarked on his journey, greeting two villagers he encountered on the way. He smiled and quickly moved on before they could react. Passing the Fire Spring, he stepped into a pitch-black world. The harsh wilderness environment surrounded him, forcing him to push through the snow that reached his chest, leaving most of his body invisible. The bitter cold turned his breath into frosty vapor, crystallizing on his brows and hair. Even during Shallow Night, the world remained dim, rendering distant views imperceptible. Clutching his hunting fork, Qin Ming trudged forward with effort. After traveling about four miles, he neared his destination. Ahead lay a dense, dark outline of trees, still some distance away, yet their silhouette was visible. Qin Ming aimed for the forest's edge—no intention of going deeply within. He marched through the snow, deeper in the forest where most trees stood bare with snow-laden branches. Stopping, he recalled the creature's trail from memory. He’d once discovered a hollow in a tree, possibly one of its lairs. "It’s bigger than its kin, likely mutated. Finding its main lair could yield a substantial reward." After a brief pause, he continued. The forest seemed lifeless, except for the occasional eerie call of a strange bird, amplifying the ghostly atmosphere. Suddenly, tension coursed through Qin Ming's body as a faint scent of decay wafted. This wasn't normal. Gripping his hunting fork, he scanned the surroundings cautiously. In a flash, he thrust the sharp steel fork upwards, responding to a strange noise and pinpointing the smell's source. He looked up and saw the origin. A shadow hung upside down from a tree branch more than ten meters high, its face a ghastly old-man’s visage, swooping menacingly towards Qin Ming’s head. In the deathly silent woods, this scene was utterly terrifying. Qin Ming reacted with sharp reflexes, recognizing the oddity early and striking back with his steel fork at the airborne creature. A piercing cry echoed through the forest, chillingly unsettling. The creature did not charge directly, instead slipping away several meters from a collision. Caught in the chilly breeze, it unfurled strong wings and soared up through gaps in the canopy, circled briefly, and vanished into the night sky. Though not clearly visible, Qin Ming identified its nature. A Phantom Vulture—a scavenging predator, its face eerily resembling a wrinkled, pale elder's, save for the bird’s beak. Typically, they weigh no more than 40 pounds. Normally, it wouldn’t attack living adults, preferring corpses. Was it so desperate due to scarce prey? Remaining on high alert, he waited for its potential return, but it didn’t reappear. The destination was close; retreating was not an option. He rested briefly before moving again. "This must be the place." The area, mostly composed of larch, broadleaf, and birch trees, confirmed Qin Ming was on the right track. He located the tree hollow he had seen before. Despite the forest's shadowy cloak, a few meters away, he could distinctly see the clean edges of the tree hole—not a promising sign. If the creature nested here, the harsh cold would have crystallized its breath at the entrance. Disappointment smoothed his brow—was the creature never lodged in this region? Breathing deeply, he prepared for a meticulous search of the nearby area. Holding a hunting fork firmly in his right hand and a short knife in the left, he remained perpetually defensive, aware of the unpredictability of wilderness threats. Qin Ming explored cautiously, ensuring no noise disrupted his stealth. A half-hour later, traces of an animal emerged on the snowy ground. Hope surged! Suddenly, a brilliant glow surged from the nearby hills, momentarily transforming the forest into a bright spectacle. Startled yet vigilant, Qin Ming seized this chance to scan for hidden large beasts. At the same time, his eyes darted around for any suspicious tree holes. The gleaming light vanished swiftly, returning the world to ink-like darkness. It was the "ground light" emitted from deep within Fire Spring, rare and mostly appearing in warmer weather, especially during summer, capable of stirring the heavens, sometimes summoning rain clouds. In those times, raindrops mingled with the radiance, creating a spectacular, vibrant vista—an incredible sight for those living in perpetual night. As the forest returned to its shadowy gloom, a genuine smile emerged on Qin Ming’s face. He had just discovered another tree hollow, its rim bedecked with frost. Treading softly through the snow, his footsteps' mild sound was swallowed by the rising wind. Stealthily, he approached a tree as wide as a barrel. Raising his hunting fork, he barely reached the opening. Lowering the fork, Qin Ming leaped from the snow, grabbed the trunk, and swiftly clambered up to the tree hollow. With a swing of his short knife, he struck the entry, producing a dull thud. Simultaneously, a creature attempting an escape retreated hastily, narrowly missing the blade. Surprisingly, Qin Ming had trapped it inside, a wonderful turn of fortune. Eh, he thought he’d only find its primary lair, seize its hoard, deeming it a victory and likely a significant harvest. Sounds within echoed, accompanied by frantic cries. Qin Ming reached cautiously into the small opening, barely fitting. He swung his knife repeatedly, enlarging the hollow in the aged tree. Retrieving a hide bag, he slipped it over his arm, beginning the capture. Inside the shadowy hollow, frantic cries erupted. Inserting his entire arm, something struck him. Thanks to the thick bag, he wasn't bitten. Grasping his prey, he pulled it out swiftly. Fetching a Sunstone from his pocket, Qin Ming illuminated the hollow’s depths, a smile breaking free. Inside were walnuts, chestnuts, and red dates, an abundant array of provisions. These were his true targets. The gnawing hunger unbearable, these dried fruits could stave off starvation, life-saving items igniting fervent light in Qin Ming’s clear eyes. He glanced at the small creature in hand, its fiery red fur gleaming under the Sunstone's glow, smoother than silk. A red squirrel, usually under a pound, but at over two pounds, it was notably mutated. It gnawed the hide bag on Qin Ming’s hand, unable to escape. The glowing, fiery coat held undeniable value. Effortlessly, he bound it with wire and hung it from a tree. Now to revel in the joy of gathering. One handful after another, he extracted the tree hollow’s assorted dried fruits, inflating the flabby hide bag. When finished, he estimated over eight pounds. Nearby, the inverted mutated red squirrel's beady eyes glared wide, chittering incessantly with apparent indignation. Qin Ming fancied it might be cursing him. "With your weight, how could eight pounds of provisions suffice?" Qin Ming murmured, tying it to his hunting fork, and searched nearby with the Sunstone's glow. Every winter, the deep snows prompted these mutated creatures not to bury their food underground; they’d lose it themselves otherwise. Indeed, Qin Ming unearthed a second nearby hollow, then a third. Even the frostless first tree hole harbored reserves. Cracking open a batch of walnuts, munching on a handful of chestnuts, savoring the rich taste. He washed red dates in snow, eating five, delighting in their sweetness. Exulatingly full, Qin Ming’s face lit with glee; not only were these fruits delicious, but they also resolved his troubles. Like the proverbial fox with multiple dens, this luminous red squirrel had four, stockpiled with over thirty pounds of food—a fitting feat for a mutated creature. Filling over half a hide bag, Qin Ming felt satisfied. "Chirp, chirp..." Initially, the mutated squirrel struggled fiercely, chittering relentlessly. Seeing all four caches raided, its resolve broke; it stiffened, slowing to stillness. Astonished, Qin Ming shook it gently, was it pretending? He’d heard these mutated mountain beasts possessed robust constitutions and remarkable intelligence with fierce tempers. Was it truly frightened to death? "Perfect, little Wen Rui wished for meat. I’ll prepare a pot of soup," he muttered, realizing how quickly he could fulfill that child’s wish. In Twin Tree Village, villagers chattered. Someone noted Qin Ming's armed expedition into the wild, his manner suggesting a target as daunting as a bear. Lu Ze heard too, deep worry knitting his brows. Would the lad dare such a bold solo venture? ... Standing upon a highland, Qin Ming sensed proximity to the mountain's peak—this was the forest's outermost reach’s small hill. Alas, after much searching, no other squirrel dens revealed themselves. He ascended the summit, gazing ahead; dense forest loomed darkly, the rugged mountains mere shadowy smudges. Within the mountain's depths lay radiant lands, veiled by swirling night mist, only faint glimmers escaping. Qin Ming understood that place embodied the unknown, the mysteries, the dangers—not a domain for him.