Chapter 42: Hunting in the Rainy Season

Chapter 42: Hunting in the Rainy Season

A fine drizzle fell from the sky, and the gloomy heavens made the forest appear even more eerie and mysterious. Days of unrelenting downpours had caused the rivers to swell, flooding most of the land on either side of the waterways that cut through the Beast Forest. Only the treetops, barely visible above the water’s surface, gave proof that towering hundred-meter trees once stood here.

Within the river, waves surged and hidden currents swirled. Whirlpools occasionally formed on the surface. Below the muddy water, visibility was poor—only the fleeting shadows of dark shapes could occasionally be glimpsed, or the sudden surge of water when these shapes bumped into one another.

A horde of crocodiles, chasing after schools of piranha, had drifted out of the Ten-Thousand-Mile Mountains. Some basked on the embankments, others cavorted in the water. Suddenly, a giant maw rose from below, snapping up two crocodiles at once before swallowing them whole. Instantly, the rest of the crocodile pack reacted, piling onto their attacker and tearing into it.

Their target was a massive forest boa, over a hundred meters long. Each year, this season marked their frenzy of feeding and mating. Now beset by the crocodiles, the giant snake recoiled in pain, coiling itself up and rolling through the river until it finally broke free from the crocodiles’ siege.

But before it could swim back to the mouth of the Ten-Thousand-Mile Mountains, two enormous claws seized it at its vital point. A colossal turtle head emerged, biting off the boa’s head in one snap, then devouring the rest piece by piece.

Once it had finished its meal, the giant turtle withdrew once more into its shell, awaiting its next prey.

Not only the river teemed with life and danger—the sky above the mouth of the Ten-Thousand-Mile Mountains was also alive with flocks of giant birds, circling and swooping down to snatch massive fish from the water before returning to their nests. Yet sometimes, savage birds too were dragged beneath the waves by monstrous pincers and tentacles reaching up from below, their shrill cries abruptly silenced, never to be heard again.

In the western central region of the Beast Forest, a group of hunters made their way through the woods. Clad in animal hides, wielding bone spears and stone axes, they occasionally climbed trees to survey their surroundings.

The ground was a morass of decaying branches and leaves, slick with rain and mud. Moss covered the boulders and tree roots, making the already treacherous paths of the Beast Forest even more difficult to traverse.

These hunters were smaller in stature than Li Li and his companions, yet lean and tough, clearly not to be underestimated. They conversed in their local dialect as they moved through the forest.

“When will this accursed weather finally end? It feels like this year’s rains are lasting longer than ever.”

“It’s only just begun—only fifteen sunsets and sunrises have passed. There’s still a long wait ahead. Stop complaining and check for any signs of prey.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that. If I’d found any sign, I’d have called you all already. Where have all the beasts gone this rainy season? We even held back on hunting nearby, but now every last one is gone.”

“How should I know? Maybe they’ve all fled. Still, we must bring back enough food this time, or many in the tribe won’t survive.”

“Hmph, it’s all because the tribe poured everything into building that altar the past few years. All our stores are gone, and the hunting parties had to go all the way to the entrance of the Ten-Thousand-Mile Mountains, suffering heavy losses. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be out here in the rain.”

“Don’t say that. Thanks to the altar, our tribe has a name, we have warriors, and we no longer fear the attacks of savage beasts. Trust me—it will get better.”

“Easy for you to say, since you awakened as a warrior. I should have joined your batch, but the chieftain said there weren’t enough spots and pushed me out. Why?”

“Enough complaining. This time we missed out because we didn’t bring back enough blood crystals. You’ll have your chance at awakening next time. Other tribes have come into the hunting grounds, which is why the beasts are scarcer. Now we have to go deeper, which makes hunting a lot more dangerous.”

“I’ve seen people from that tribe—they’re tall and strong. Their warriors tower over ours, and their gear is much better too.”

“Do you think they killed all the prey, leaving us with nothing?”

“No way. Where would they get so many warriors? Didn’t Big Bullhead drive them off last time? They’re not the reason. Don’t be fooled by their size—they’re actually cowards. When they run into us, they always back down, even giving up prey they’ve already caught.”

As they spoke, the hunting party pressed deeper into the forest, unaware that above them, a pair of sharp golden eagle eyes watched through the thick canopy.

“Big Bullhead, I found tracks—looks like a wild boar, judging by the fresh droppings here.”

A hunter had spotted signs near a mound of earth beneath some tree roots and quickly reported to the team leader.

The leader, known as Big Bullhead, was far more robust than the others. His animal-hide armor was well-crafted, not as crude as the others’. He gripped a gleaming bone spear, his exposed skin marked by muscular lines and various scars and bite marks.

Big Bullhead stepped up onto the mound, examining the traces on the ground. He scraped at the earth, then scooped up a piece of boar dung with his finger and sniffed it. After wiping his hand on the dead leaves, he turned to the others.

“It’s wild boar dung, fresh, buried not long ago. There’s a hint of blood—it’s wounded. Follow the tracks quickly, before the rain washes them away.”

With that, he took the lead, bone spear in hand, following the boar’s tracks at a run. The warriors and hunters behind him gripped their weapons tighter and gave chase.

Wild boars were among the most formidable beasts; their shoulders stood over four meters tall, and they could weigh between five and eight tons. Their hides were thick, their strength immense, and they loved to wallow in mud, coating themselves in a layer of earth armor. In a fight, they were prone to berserk rage, and their four pairs of tusks were deadly—whether you were bitten or gored, it could be fatal.

Yet despite their ferocity, these beasts provided ample meat. If used sparingly, one kill could feed the tribe for two or three days. The lure of such a prize was worth the risk, and the hunters pressed on.

Soon, the hunting party reached a relatively open and level area, only to discover that another group had already found and was battling the wild boar.

“What now? They’re from the Hong Tribe. Should we drive them off?” one warrior whispered to Big Bullhead.

Big Bullhead eyed the scene ahead, gritted his teeth, and quickly counted the opposing hunters, comparing their numbers to his own group.

“Let’s do it. We must secure the prey. Just drive them away, but keep them in check—don’t provoke them too much, they’re not to be trifled with.”

(End of chapter)