Li Yuan had barely stepped into the house when Yan Yu dragged over a long bench and used it to block the door. She sat down on it, her back pressed against the door, her face brimming with anxiety.
“Li Yuan, why is Qian San after you?”
“He’s probably got his eye on my provisional hunting permit.”
“Aren’t those issued by the government? How dare they try to steal it?”
“It doesn’t have my name on it. Normally, the constables keep an eye on things and they stay in line, more or less. But these days, the authorities don’t bother with stuff .”
“What are we going to do...what are we going to do?” Yan Yu muttered, wringing her hands. “What if we ask Uncle Wang next door, and maybe a few other men. If you all band together, Qian San won’t dare to make a move.”
“A few other men? Besides Uncle Wang, who else would be willing to help?”
“Monk Pan...” Yan Yu blurted out.
Li Yuan thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Putting together a small crew and dragging other people into this, even with family involved, isn’t a good idea.
“Besides, Uncle Wang might be strong, but he's just a mild-mannered, honest man. And Monk Pan has nothing to do with me at all. If the three of us teamed up, we’d be a ragtag bunch, hardly better than me going it alone."
Yan Yu tried to say more, but Li Yuan sat down beside her, slipped his right arm around her back, and lightly hooked her soft shoulder. In a low voice, he assured, “Leave the trouble outside to me. Don’t worry about it.”
“How can you handle it?”
“I’ll go hunting with him.”
“You... You’re not going to end up like Caihua's husband, are you? He never came back after he went off...”
“No, no. With such a pretty wife waiting at home, how could I bear not to return?”
Yan Yu’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, stop teasing me,” she murmured, leaning against him, though her face was still etched with worry.
Li Yuan lifted his head, looking around the dimly lit room, his eyes reflecting a calm glimmer. In his previous life, he had been a butcher. Back then, he was scared at first. But after killing so many pigs, he grew numb, his gaze turned cold and steady...
Qian San had to die. If he didn’t kill him, he’d be forced into a head-on fight. All his strength was in his bow; at best, one arrow could take out one man, but against a group, he’d stand little chance.
And if he shot someone in broad daylight, he’d be labeled a murderer and hauled in by the authorities. If he didn’t shoot, they’d beat him senseless, and he’d have no way out. If something happened to him, Yan Yu wouldn’t have any protection, either.
“So, where to kill him?” Li Yuan wondered. “Maybe while Qian San was out hunting, that would be ideal. But I have no idea if he’s even going in the next few days... or where he plans to go.”
It was too hard to pin down; there were just too many variables. Still, there was one place Qian San was sure to show up, his own home.
“Next question. When to kill him? Today? That wouldn’t work. I only just had a falling-out with him. If he dies right now, I’ll be the first suspect.
“Then in a couple of days? That’s still no good. What if something unexpected happens? Forget it. I’ll keep an eye on him, and if an opportunity arises, I’ll take it.”
Li Yuan grew calmer by the second. It was the same look he wore back when he slaughtered pigs.
That night, a bright moon lit up the land. The wind was mild, but frost glazed the ground, cold as ice. Earlier in the day, Yan Yu had patched the window. Now, soft creaking echoed through the house...
After a long while, Yan Yu collapsed softly, drifting off in her man’s arms. They clung together under the covers, warm and snug—like a tiny safe haven blocking out the darkness and chill of winter, the one and only pocket of light, warmth, joy, and comfort in this chaotic era.
Li Yuan gently slipped his arm free and whispered, “I need to go to the toilet. If you drift off, don’t come out.”
Yan Yu was already sleeping soundly. She mumbled drowsily and turned her warm body the other way.
Li Yuan carefully lifted the blankets and climbed out of bed. He dressed swiftly, took down his large bow and quiver from the wall, and after a moment’s thought, used the remaining 20 stat points on Intermediate Tracking.
Intermediate Tracking (0/20) ➔ NEW! Advanced Tracking (0/40)
A peculiar rush of clarity coursed through him, flooding his mind with a veteran tracker’s skill and experience.
Suddenly, he was keenly aware of how to read light and shadow, conceal his own presence, and zero in on his target.
Quietly pushing open the back door, Li Yuan crouched low, then darted outside with a whoosh. He moved fast and light, like a prowling panther slipping through the village. Within moments, he had vanished into the small grove behind his home.
He ran hard, the wind roaring past his ears. Though the freezing air cut like a knife, he paid it no mind, eyes flicking around to scout for any danger. He had a hidden knack for picking up the slightest hints of threat. If something hostile lurked about, he’d see numbers appear.
Little Ink Village wasn’t large—really more a hamlet than anything else. But they called it a village to match the official terminology. Before long, Li Yuan arrived at Qian San’s home and tucked himself behind the dark silhouette of an old tree.
Inside Qian San’s place, Qian San was drinking, bragging about the day’s events. A fairly striking woman, seated on his lap, giggled as she poured his wine.
“You were so impressive today,” she teased. “You didn’t even need to lift a finger. Monk Pan ended up getting thrashed by everyone else.”
Qian San let out a coarse laugh. “This is all about people’s hearts, about using their strengths to your advantage. Explaining it to you would be pointless.
“Give it some time. Once I’ve rounded up all the hunters here in Little Ink Village, we’ll head into the mountains. And when I’m the one holding all the meat, I’ll do whatever I please in this village.”
The woman scoffed. “Pfft, round them all up? There are six hunting families here. You’ve only just gotten hold of the provisional hunting permit of Caihua's husband, so there are still four more families left.”
Qian San said, “Pour me some wine. I’ll deal with them one by one.”
Hooking her arms around his neck, she teased, “I heard there are places where a piece of meat no bigger than your palm is enough to get you another man’s wife. Is that true?”
“Sure is,” Qian San replied. “Take the Zhao Family next door, for example. Some guy did it right in front of the husband, and the husband even stood guard for him.”
Some time later, reeking of wine, Qian San pushed her down onto the bed and dropped his trousers, ready to climb on. Suddenly, he frowned and muttered, “You go on to sleep. I’ve gotta...step outside.”
Flushing red, he pulled his pants back up and staggered out, humming some off-key tune. After walking a hundred meters or so, he found an open-air latrine, dropped his pants, and squatted down.
Meanwhile, off in a dark corner, a shadowy figure was creeping closer.
The figure moved with barely a whisper, each footstep drowned out by the faint sounds of the night.
Soon, the figure was within 20 or so paces of Qian San.
A quick glance at himself. His overall combat power was 5~6. A look at Qian San, still squatting, whose overall combat power was still 0~1.
With his bow in his left hand, he reached into his quiver with his right, his fingers hovering over an arrow. Then he paused. Sliding his hand lower, he felt a smooth stone.
Throwing stones was a fundamental skill for hunters, typically used against small prey to stun them without damaging their pelts, so they could be sold for a higher price.
Qian San stayed squatted there, nodding to himself, still warm from the alcohol. The cold didn’t bother him a bit.
“Three days...you got three days, Pipsqueak. Tomorrow I’ll come find you again...” he mumbled.
And just then, a stone sailed through more than 30 meters of darkness without a sound, cutting through the chill night air before slamming hard into Qian San’s forehead.
“Agh!” A jolt of searing pain shot through him. Off balance and unable to control himself, he toppled backward with a heavy thud, straight into the latrine pit, sinking right in.