Encounter

Outside the village, darkness reigned and the landscape was indistinct; few people ventured out at this hour. "Uncle Yang?" Not far past the village edge, Qin Ming spotted a stout, stocky man. Yang Yongqing was surprised. "Xiao Qin, shallow night hasn't even arrived. Why are you heading out so early?" "I thought I'd try my luck in the wilds and see if any beasts froze to death," Qin Ming replied. Yang Yongqing laughed. "Great minds think alike. I just made a round outside the hills, but sadly came up empty." Qin Ming was taken aback. This full-bearded, middle-aged man had actually just returned from outside—that was truly early. "How could Uncle Yang be like me? You couldn't be tracking down some spirited, rare prey, could you?" He knew Yang Yongqing was formidable, one of the few Newborns in Twin Trees Village. The two had exchanged only a few words when they noticed a dark figure swaying in the distance. "A mountain patroller," Yang Yongqing murmured. In an era without a sun, the wilderness was exceptionally perilous, requiring highly skilled individuals to patrol the mountains and keep watch. A man clad in leather armor emerged. He was quite tall, carrying a bow and arrows on his back, gripping an iron spear, with long hair hanging loose about his shoulders—radiating a feral strength. "Brother Shao," Yang Yongqing called out in greeting. Shao Chengfeng nodded. Around forty years old, with exceptionally sharp eyes, he halted nearby and said, "Venturing out with you at such a young age—could this be that Erbingzi?" "Erbingzi is from the neighboring village..." Yang Yongqing explained. "Twin Trees Village is really falling behind. Not a single Newborn within the golden window has emerged in decades," Shao Chengfeng said bluntly. Yang Yongqing, however, found it perfectly normal. Across this entire region, hardly anyone managed to achieve Newborn at fifteen or sixteen; inborn talent could not be forced. He remarked, "In the early years, no one could tell Erbingzi was so remarkable. I hear that after making up for his body's deficiencies recently, his physical constitution leaped by another bound." Shao Chengfeng nodded. "Truly impressive indeed. It's just hard to say whether he can measure up to the standout talents in that radiant city in the distance." "It will be hard. Different lands nurture different people," Yang Yongqing said with some wistfulness. He had witnessed the city's prosperity and knew the splendor brought about by high-tier manuals of power. "Indeed." Shao Chengfeng acknowledged the reality. "Word is that two extraordinary youths have appeared there, surpassing the Newborns of the golden window from years past. A boy and a girl, astonishing the entire region." "A blessed place, truly." Yang Yongqing felt only admiration, not jealousy, because that realm was so far from theirs that there was simply no comparison. Qin Ming listened intently throughout, without chiming in. After pausing briefly, Shao Chengfeng vanished into the night. No one knew what grade of beings dwelled in the pitch-black depths of the mountain range, nor how many dangerous tribes inhabited it, making it necessary for mountain patrollers to monitor the outer perimeters and give early warnings. Qin Ming asked, "Mountain patrollers are all formidable figures. Do they have to go into the mountains every day?" "Some are very responsible," Yang Yongqing answered. Qin Ming paused. Did that mean some were very irresponsible? He had not expected such an understated, subtle answer from this heavily bearded, burly man. "The situation in the mountains right now is very abnormal—far too dangerous. My guess is that before long, those above will conduct a 'mountain-clearing operation,' and scions of noble houses will likely accompany it. Xiao Qin, you need to work hard and strive to become a Newborn during your golden window." Yang Yongqing patted him on the shoulder. "If by some chance you catch the eye of a visiting noble lady, you might just rewrite your fate." The two parted ways, and Yang Yongqing headed back to the village. Digesting the news, Qin Ming pressed onward into the wilderness. He moved at tremendous speed, plowing through chest-deep snow as though cleaving waves, flakes churning and splashing to both sides of his path. By now, the night was no longer quite as dense. Shallow night had arrived, leaving the mountain forests looming indistinctly in the gloom. Qin Ming stood outside the mountains, his vigilance piqued, for no one could tell what dangers lurked in the obscured terrain. With a deep rumble, his stomach growled. His body once again sounded the alarm of hunger. When he had met an acquaintance on the road earlier, he had forcibly suppressed it, but now all restraint vanished. Acid welled up in his stomach. Looking into the gloomy, dense forest, he gripped his hunting spear tightly and darted inside. He passed the habitat of the mutated squirrels and crossed over the low hill, venturing farther than he had the previous time. Once he had delved a little deeper into the forest, he noticed numerous traces—broken beast bones, large hoofprints—and he no longer had to worry about knee-deep snow impeding his way, as many creatures had already trampled narrow paths through it. A series of whimpering sobs drifted through the air, sounding like a weeping woman—singularly bizarre in such a desolate forest. Qin Ming abruptly picked up his pace, tracking the source of the sound through the mountains, and quickly drew near his destination. Amidst the pitch-black woods, pairs of jade-green eyes gazed back. Shifting silhouettes lurked there—at least a dozen creatures in total. Someone unaware of the truth might have been terrified by the crying, but to someone seasoned in walking the wilderness, this could well be an opportunity. Grasping his hunting spear, Qin Ming burst in. At once, a flurry of flapping wings erupted, and more than a dozen creatures shot swiftly into the night sky, scared off. These were carnivorous night birds, two feet in length, that favored living in flocks. Their calls sounded like ghostly weeping. They hunted all manner of small animals for food, and at times would even attack humans. Qin Ming rushed to the spot in an instant, only to sigh in disappointment. On the ground lay nothing but a pile of bloody bones and a few shredded, bloodstained scraps of pelt. A river deer had been devoured clean by them. Having failed to snatch food from the birds' beaks, he turned and left, remaining wary of being ambushed by the flock. In an open clearing where the trees were sparse, bloodstains spattered the ground alongside paw prints wider than the mouth of a large bowl—evidently the feeding ground of a colossal beast of prey. As for the leftover remains, they had likely been dragged off by other scavengers. Just as Lu Ze had said, even the outer regions of the mountains were turning dangerous now; one could only imagine what the depths of the range were like. Qin Ming kept his guard up as he left the bloody scene. Moments later, he spotted numerous hoofprints in the snow. His spirits instantly lifted, and he tracked them along their trail. In the gloom, over twenty dark silhouettes stood ahead, none of them small, exuding a distinct sense of menace as a herd. "Saber-horned deer!" Qin Ming's eyes lit up with joy. In days past, deer herds were rarely seen in this area. He unslung his bow and took aim at a large stag. These were by no means docile creatures. Mature males bore six horns distributed across the sides and front of their heads—flat, razor-sharp, like six steel sabers. If a beast slammed into someone, it would inevitably gouge out lethal, bloody cavities. Even some predators dared not charge them head-on, choosing instead to ambush them from behind. If a human were trapped amid such a herd, the outcome would be dire. Qin Ming drew the stiff bow into a full moon. With a sharp twang, an iron arrow flashed like lightning, burying itself into the stag's lungs. Saber-horned deer were notoriously fierce, bold enough to confront all kinds of predators. Struck by the arrow, this great stag did not flee; instead, it immediately charged straight toward Qin Ming. Briefly startled, the herd followed suit, thundering after it. Snow burst upward, hoofbeats drumming in a dense cadence that set the forest trembling. Qin Ming did not panic. Nocking another arrow, he struck with the same deadly precision. Driven with immense power, the entire iron arrow sank into the beast, causing the stag to stagger. Stowing his bow, he calmly climbed a thick tree, perching several meters above the ground. In the dense woods, it was difficult to aim at prey once up a tree, with countless branches obstructing the view. After galloping a distance, the great stag stumbled, unable to hold on any longer, and collapsed into the snow with a heavy thud. Startled, the rest of the herd halted in their tracks, then thundered away into the distance. Qin Ming waited a moment. When no dangerous beasts appeared, he dropped down from the tree and approached with his hunting spear in hand. This dark-brown saber-horned deer was exceptionally stout, weighing a full seven hundred jin, without having grown lean even in winter. He was thoroughly satisfied with such a harvest. The forest was perilous, no place to linger. Dragging the saber-horned deer, he immediately retraced his steps. He now truly appreciated the benefits of his Newborn transformation: with his vastly increased strength, hauling such heavy quarry swiftly through the snow brought not the slightest hint of fatigue. The wilderness teemed with diverse trees—larches, spruces, and the like—often tens of meters tall, looming high into the night. The mountain wind grew fiercer, whipping up granules of snow that stung sharply against his face. Amid the howling gale, goosebumps rose across Qin Ming's skin. A pair of large, furry paws had come down upon his shoulders from behind! Simultaneously, he felt a blast of heat behind him graze the fine hairs on his neck. He realized it had to be a gaping, bloody maw closing in, poised to snap his cervical spine. Instantly, he pulled his shoulders inward, dropped into a squat, and rolled into the snow to the side. Even so, blood was drawn. The paws bearing down on his shoulders packed tremendous force, like sharp iron hooks, tearing through his padded coat and cutting into his flesh. Snow erupted violently. A terrifying black shadow had been lurking right inside a snowdrift—tall, powerful, and now surging forward, pouncing after him. Reacting with swift reflexes, Qin Ming slithered across the ground like an agile snake, narrowly breaking free. The ferocious dark beast lunged again. Its razor claws were large enough to rip away an entire human face, and its gaping jaws bared fangs glinting with cold malice. Qin Ming had no time to stand, yet he showed no panic. With absolute calm, he thrust both hands forward, seizing its forelegs in an iron grip. Those chilling paws hovered mere inches from his face, almost brushing against him, yet they could not press down another fraction. Facing it head-on, Qin Ming finally saw the creature's appearance clearly. It had an enormous donkey's head with a wide muzzle, long black mane bristling along the back of its neck, and the muscular body of a mountain wolf. In sheer savagery, it snapped toward Qin Ming's throat. The situation was perilously close; hot breath spewing from that bloody maw blew directly onto Qin Ming's face, thick with a foul, metallic stench. Unflinching in the face of peril, he clamped onto the forelegs with all his might, using the beast's own claws to jam against its fangs, turning its limbs against itself. Simultaneously, while locked in struggle, he curled his body inward, coiling his legs to gather strength, and then kicked out explosively, slamming his feet violently into its abdomen. Undergoing his Newborn metamorphosis, Qin Ming possessed astonishing strength. With a single kick, he sent the several-hundred-jin beast tumbling through the air, rolling across the snow. "A donkey-headed wolf!" He stared at the black beast before him. It was also known as a mountain prowler: head of a donkey, body of a wolf, yet far deadlier than any ordinary mountain wolf. Typical specimens weighed at least one hundred and eighty jin, but this one had clearly mutated, reaching four hundred jin. An ordinary person crossing its path would be doomed! Its limbs were exceptionally long, allowing it to walk upright. Some local elders had witnessed the bizarre spectacle of a mountain prowler walking on two legs while hauling its prey over its shoulder. The mutated creature before him was both brutal and cunning. The instant it scrambled to its feet, it stomped Qin Ming's hunting spear deep into the snow. Qin Ming was taken aback. It really had developed some cunning, knowing how to keep him separated from his weapon. With malevolent eyes and thick mane bristling, the donkey-headed wolf reared onto its hind legs, towering noticeably taller as it snarled with menacing presence. Qin Ming felt not the slightest dread. Drawing his short blade from behind his back, he advanced. In the midst of his Newborn metamorphosis, he felt confident he could beat it to death with his bare hands in a straight fight. The donkey-headed wolf lunged. Trailing a foul wind that kicked up blinding sheets of snow, it let out a guttural roar that shook powdery clumps from the branches overhead. Qin Ming's short blade clashed against its heavy paws with a crisp, resonant clang. Standing upright, eyes bloodshot, the beast attempted to wrap its arms around him and tear into his flesh. Moving like lightning, Qin Ming swept a dazzling arc of blade light across its face; blood gushed from its jaws, and its fangs were severed. He pressed forward without pause, whipping his right leg like an iron flail hard into its torso. Accompanied by the crunch of shattering bones, the beast let out a shrill howl of agony. Qin Ming sprang forward, pinning the four-hundred-jin donkey-headed wolf into the snow, and rained blow after blow upon it. With a sharp crack, the beast's neck snapped, twisted at an unnatural angle, and it went limp. As a mutated creature, its sleek, glossy black pelt was highly valuable, and it had been preserved relatively intact. Had any outsider been present, they would have been astounded: an extraordinarily vicious mutated donkey-headed wolf had been pummeled to death by Qin Ming with his bare fists. Soon, Qin Ming discovered an iron arrowhead embedded in its flesh. He was certain this was the very mutated beast that had ambushed him on the road when he raided the red squirrel's nest. At the time, the distance had been too great to get a clear look, but he had indeed struck it with an arrow that day. Qin Ming felt his shoulders; the wounds were not deep, and the bleeding soon stopped. The ordeal had been perilous in truth: had his reaction been a fraction of a second slower, not only would his shoulders have been torn open, but his neck would have been severed. He had exerted a great deal of energy. His stomach rumbled incessantly like beating drums, leaving him flustered with hunger. He yearned to roast a venison haunch on the spot and feast to his heart's content. Yet lighting a fire in the darkness would be like a beacon in the mist, exposing him to every creature in the forest—far too dangerous. Qin Ming looked down at the donkey-headed wolf at his feet, then at the saber-horned deer nearby, and finally up at the low hill ahead. Carrying two such massive beasts across the ridge would be exceedingly troublesome. He decided to lighten his load. The saber-horned deer and the donkey-headed wolf had only just died and their carcasses were still warm. As he sliced open their hides with his short blade, blood welled forth, staining the snow crimson. Though he was a delicate-featured youth, his wilderness survival skills were formidable, for he had always relied on himself to stay alive. Wielding his blade with speed, he efficiently field-dressed both carcasses of their entrails and immediately buried the innards deep in the snow to mask the stench of blood. "Hopefully no dangerous creatures are nearby." Qin Ming thought it shouldn't be much of a problem; after all, this was already the outer area of the mountain forest. Yet just as he reached halfway up the slope, a tremendous disturbance echoed from afar. This was no ordinary commotion: countless birds throughout the forest took flight into the night sky, and many beasts fled in frantic panic. "Did the smell of blood draw a behemoth?" Qin Ming's brows furrowed deeply as he looked toward the dense woods in the distance. The noise surged closer, accompanied by guttural roars, snow churning on the ground, and the sharp snapping of branches. Soon, he caught sight of a gigantic colossus, as massive and sturdy as an armored carriage, ferociously overturning every obstacle in its path. It was wounded and drenched in blood—evidently a defeated behemoth fleeing to this region rather than pursuing Qin Ming. He drew in a sharp breath. It was a wild boar, of terrifyingly huge proportions, weighing at least fifteen hundred jin. Normally, a boar of six hundred jin could reign as king of its herd, but this one far surpassed its kind. Bristling with needle-thick hair and bearing snow-white tusks longer than an adult's forearm, it looked brutally ferocious. Qin Ming wondered in astonishment: if even such a magnificent wild boar king had been defeated, what kind of creature was hunting it? He had assumed the colossus would pass by the base of the hill and disappear into the distance, but its snout twitched, and it suddenly charged up the low hill. Injured and hyper-sensitive, it had been provoked by the scent of blood lingering in the forest. Qin Ming realized he was in deep trouble—not only because this behemoth was exceedingly dangerous, but also because the mysterious creature hunting it might follow. Faintly, he could already hear movement stirring in the distant woods. The wind gradually died down and faded to silence. Like a moving hill, the wild boar king barged forward, savage and brutal, kicking up churning snow as it rampaged. Branches snapped everywhere in its wake, and dead trees were sheared clean off at their trunks. Qin Ming's expression shifted slightly. He climbed a massive tree that would take several people to wrap their arms around, positioning himself above, ready to shoot at its eyes, heart, and other vitals with arrows once it drew close. As the colossal boar king neared, its stiff black bristles stood on end. When it raised its head, its face became clearly visible—covered in a layer of black scales gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen, making it appear all the more hideous and fierce. Qin Ming frowned. He was now fully locked in the sights of this oppressive behemoth. Nocking an iron arrow onto his bowstring, he aimed downward. Suddenly, he sensed something amiss. In an instant, the forest went dead silent. The birds and raptors that had taken flight earlier were gone; the fleeing mountain beasts seemed to have vanished into thin air. The vast woods had abruptly fallen devoid of all sound—an uncanny stillness. At that moment, he saw an orb of light rise from a distant peak. Soft at first, it soon turned brilliant, ascending steadily. In that instant, the hot-tempered boar king dared not make a sound. It retreated noiselessly, terrified of snapping a single twig, creeping as cautiously as a kitten into the gloomy, dense woods, before finally crouching in a hollow and burying itself in the snow. In this era of eternal night, nothing should have been in the sky; pitch-black darkness was the perpetual norm. Yet now in the night sky, that light burned brighter and brighter, suspended overhead like a bright, pristine moon. Qin Ming's heart shook violently, for he knew that in truth, it was an insect.