Chapter 7: An Encounter
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
Outside the little village, the night was as dark as ink, so thick it seemed to swallow everything whole. Hardly anyone dared to be out at this hour. The sky was moonless and black, and the hush that blanketed the fields gave the world a secretive, hidden feel.
“Uncle Yang?” Qin Ming called softly. He was standing near the edge of the village, where he spotted a tall, solid figure not far ahead. Qin Ming was a young fellow—fifteen or sixteen at most—and there was a hint of teenage boldness in his voice.
The man turned around, eyes flashing with mild surprise before he smiled warmly. It was Yang Yong Qing, a seasoned villager with a strong build and weathered face. “Qin Ming? The night’s still shallow. What are you doing out here, lad?”
Qin Ming shrugged, giving him a crooked grin. “Hey, Uncle Yang. Just thought I’d try my luck, you know? Maybe I’ll find a critter that froze solid overnight and snag some easy meat. Gotta make the most of these long nights.”
Yang Yong Qing chuckled, his breath steaming in the cold. “Ha! Same idea, eh? I’ve already wandered up the mountain and back, but no such luck for me.”
Qin Ming raised his eyebrows in playful disbelief. “No kidding, Uncle Yang? You’ve already been up and down? You’re way too quick! Here I was, just thinking about heading up.” He smirked and then joked, “Unless you’re out here trying to nab some legendary, magic beast before I get the chance?”
Yang Yong Qing let out a hearty laugh that carried through the quiet night. “You caught me! Maybe I am. But remember, I’m not your average villager. I’ve gone through the Awakening. That gives me a bit of an edge, wouldn’t you say?”
They were both silent for a moment, suddenly alert. Qin Ming squinted into the darkness. A faint silhouette was approaching, blending into the night until it stepped a bit closer. The man wore leather armor and carried a bow and an iron spear. He had long, loose hair and a watchful gaze that seemed to pierce the gloom. His presence reminded Qin Ming of the Mountain Patrol, the brave folks who guarded the outskirts from lurking dangers.
“Brother Shao!” Yang Yong Qing called, waving one hand.
Shao Cheng Feng nodded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two. He seemed about forty, with a stern face set in deep lines. “Got a kid with you, Yang? Is that Er Bing Zi from the next village over?”
Yang Yong Qing shook his head, amused. “No, not him. This here is Qin Ming, from our own Twin Trees Village.”
Shao Cheng Feng’s tone was blunt. “Twin Trees, huh? Behind the times, that place. No one there’s had a proper Awakening in years, not during the golden seasons at least.”
Yang Yong Qing took the jab lightly. “True enough. Talent’s not something we can force. It’s rare for anyone to wake their power before they’re older. I heard Er Bing Zi from the neighboring village grew stronger after his recovery, though.”
Shao Cheng Feng nodded. “He’s got potential, sure. But even he might not match the youngsters from the bright city. Those city kids are on another level entirely.”
Yang Yong Qing sighed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting beyond the village boundaries. “I guess every place has its gifts. The city’s worlds apart from our quiet life out here.”
Qin Ming stayed quiet, listening carefully. He knew they were telling the truth. The city’s wonders were far beyond what the village could imagine.
Shao Cheng Feng continued. “Word is, the bright city’s got two young prodigies now—a boy and a girl—both stronger than any golden-age awakeners we’ve seen in ages. They’re quite the talk.”
Yang Yong Qing’s eyes shone with admiration. “Incredible. Really shows how wide the world is.”
With that, Shao Cheng Feng nodded once more and set off into the darkness, continuing his patrol. The hush fell again, as if the night were leaning in to listen.
Qin Ming broke the silence, sounding curious. “Uncle Yang, are all the Mountain Patrol folks that tough? Do they go out every single day like this?”
Yang Yong Qing shrugged. “Some are truly dedicated. They’re out there a lot.”
Qin Ming frowned slightly. “Some are… not dedicated? That’s odd.”
Yang Yong Qing’s face turned serious, his voice dropping low. “The mountains have been acting strange. Too dangerous lately. I’ve heard there might be a big cleanup soon—some noble families might send their young ones to handle it.” He paused, looking down at Qin Ming with a hint of a grin. “Qin, you should really focus on awakening your power during the golden years. If a noble girl notices your talent, well—who knows? Your life might change overnight.”
They parted ways, Yang Yong Qing returning toward the warm glow of the village. Qin Ming took a deep breath, turning toward the wild, snowy landscape that spread before him like a secret map waiting to be explored.
He walked deeper into the darkness, boots crunching on the snow. His eyes were growing used to the faint light of the shallow night. He kept his senses on high alert; you never knew what lurked in these forests after dark.
A sharp hunger gnawed at his belly, and it rumbled loudly, reminding him he hadn’t eaten. Qin Ming tightened his grip on his hunting fork and slipped into the trees, determined to find something edible.
He passed the part of the forest where strange, mutated squirrels lived, and scaled a low hill to reach unfamiliar ground. Soon, he spotted signs of animal life—splintered bones and hoofprints in the snow. Other creatures had crossed here, leaving beaten-down paths, making it easier for him to move silently.
Then he heard it: a soft sobbing, like a woman crying. It was eerie, carrying through the silent woods. Curiosity and caution warred within him, but curiosity won, and he pushed on until he found the source.
Green eyes glinted at him from the shadows—dozens of them. Black shapes rose into the air as soon as he approached, wings flapping noisily. They were carnivorous night birds, each nearly two feet long. They feasted on anything that moved, sometimes even people. But Qin Ming was no stranger to danger. He’d grown up in these wilds and saw this as a chance.
He dashed forward, but it was too late. The birds had already torn apart a deer, leaving only bloody bones and scraps of hide. With a frustrated sigh, he withdrew, keeping an eye on the flock. They might try their luck on him if he looked weak.
He moved on to a clearing, where the trees stood farther apart. The snow was stained dark with blood, and massive claw marks scored the ground. Something huge had eaten its fill here, and now only silence remained.
“Lu Ze was right,” Qin Ming muttered under his breath. “Even these outer woods are getting deadly.” He wondered what horrors lay deeper in the mountains.
Soon, hoofprints caught his eye, lifting his spirits. Following them, he soon glimpsed about twenty dark shapes outlined against the faint light—Blade-Horned Deer. Qin Ming grinned, excitement sparking inside him.
It had been ages since he’d seen these fierce creatures. He readied his bow, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and took careful aim at a large stag. Its six flat antlers were as sharp as knives—this was no gentle woodland creature.
Qin Ming drew back, released, and the arrow struck true, piercing the stag’s lung. Instead of fleeing, the stag charged. Blade-Horned Deer were fearless, especially when wounded. Qin Ming calmly shot again, and the second arrow buried deep, toppling the animal.
As the herd panicked and stampeded away, Qin Ming quickly scrambled up a sturdy tree. From there, he waited, ready in case any beast tried to come after him. Once the herd cleared out, he climbed down and approached the fallen stag. It was enormous, at least seven hundred pounds, with thick, glossy fur. A treasure of meat and hide.
He knew better than to linger. It was dangerous out here, so he tugged at the stag, grateful for the strength his Awakening had granted him. With every season, he’d grown stronger, able to drag such a heavy prize without too much trouble.
The forest around him was dense with dark evergreens. The wind picked up, stinging his face with icy flakes. Qin Ming trudged onward, eager to return home with his kill—when suddenly he felt something soft and furry press against his shoulder, and hot breath on the back of his neck.
Reacting on instinct, Qin Ming threw himself down, rolling in the snow. He felt claws rip through his coat and scratch his skin. A snarl split the silence. He looked up, heart pounding, to see a monstrous creature looming over him—a beast with a donkey’s head, a black mane, and a wolf-like body.
“Donkey-Headed Wolf!” Qin Ming gasped. Locals called it the “Mountain Trickster,” and it weighed at least four hundred pounds. Twice as big and much more cunning than a normal wolf.
The creature lunged. Qin Ming caught its front legs, straining to keep its claws from his face. The beast’s jaws snapped dangerously close to his throat, its breath hot and foul. Qin Ming twisted the front legs inward, forcing the creature to snarl in frustration.
Taking advantage of his Awakening-enhanced strength, he brought his legs up and kicked the wolf hard in its belly. It flew backward, surprised and enraged.
Qin Ming smirked. “Sorry, buddy. You picked the wrong meal tonight.” He reached for a short blade hidden at his back, stepping forward with newfound confidence. Strong or not, he wouldn’t be easy prey.
The beast was cunning. It bared its fangs and batted Qin Ming’s hunting fork away, trying to disarm him. Qin Ming snorted. “Oh, clever, are we?” He tightened his grip on the knife.
The Donkey-Headed Wolf charged, and Qin Ming met it head-on. Steel kissed claw. His blade flashed in the faint light. The wolf snarled, red eyes blazing, but Qin Ming was quick and agile. He slashed with precision, shattering the creature’s teeth, and followed with a heavy kick that cracked its ribs. The beast howled, collapsed, and Qin Ming leapt on it, raining down blows until its neck snapped with a sickening crunch.
Panting, Qin Ming stepped back. He examined the dead wolf. This was valuable fur—mutated beasts fetched a good price. He found an old iron arrowhead lodged in its flesh. So this was the same brute that had attacked him near the red squirrel’s nest. Rubbing his sore shoulder, he was thankful for his speed. A moment slower, and he’d have been torn apart.
His stomach growled again, reminding him how hungry he was. The Blade-Horned Deer’s leg would make a fine meal, but lighting a fire out here would be pure madness—like waving a bright flag to every hungry predator nearby.
With a sigh, he knelt and got to work, skinning the deer and the wolf swiftly. The snow turned red, but Qin Ming remained calm and steady. He’d done this a hundred times. After cleaning what he could, he buried the organs to mask the smell. He hoped it would help keep scavengers away.
He hefted the deer onto his shoulder and dragged the wolf by its hind legs, heading back over the hill toward home. His muscles strained, but he kept going, breath steaming in the cold air.
Then he heard it—a distant crashing sound, so loud and strange it made him halt. Birds took flight, and small animals darted away in panic. Qin Ming crouched, heart thumping. Something big was coming. He sniffed the air, the scent of blood thick and sharp.
The noise grew louder—heavy footsteps, cracking branches. Suddenly, a gigantic shape burst into view. It was a huge boar, easily over fifteen hundred pounds, wounded and bleeding. It looked like it had barely escaped a fierce battle. Qin Ming stared, wide-eyed. What kind of monster could overpower such a beast?
The boar lurched closer, then stopped, sniffing the bloody air. Qin Ming’s heart sank as it turned and began trudging up the hill, drawn by the scent he’d left behind. But just as he was tensing, something changed. The forest fell deathly silent, as if holding its breath.
The massive boar, which had charged like a living battering ram a moment ago, now moved more quietly, creeping into a hollow by some trees. It settled down, trying to hide. Qin Ming watched in astonishment. What could frighten a creature this powerful?
Then he noticed a strange glow growing in the sky. In the Era of Eternal Night, there should be no light but darkness. Yet this was different—like a bright insect’s glow, expanding until it lit the sky like a tiny sun. Qin Ming’s heart pounded. It wasn’t the moon. It was some kind of huge glowing bug!