Even after learning the location of the wolf pack’s den, his worries didn’t lessen. In fact, they grew considerably.
Wolves have an extrely keen sense of sll. They would surely discover he had been there, and they would likely follow his scent all the way back to his shelter.
However, what shocked him was that the wolf he had shot with an arrow hadn’t stayed behind in the den. Instead, it had left with the pack. It seed its injury was even lighter than he had imagined.
’Is it really this hard to get my lost arrow back??’
He hurried to the riverbank. Instead of heading upstream, he began to survey the shore in the imdiate vicinity.
’Clay is ford from silt and sand deposited by the river over ti. There’s usually more of it at bends or forks. The current is slow here, which also makes it a good place for fishing.’
However, he had no intention of weaving a gillnet here. It was at least a forty to fifty-minute walk in a straight line back to the shelter, aning a round trip would take an hour and a half. It was simply too ti-consuming.
He had to deal with that troubleso wolf pack as soon as possible. Otherwise, he wouldn’t even dare return to the place he’d crossed the river before, which was the closest crossing to his shelter.
After so searching, he found and dug up a large amount of clay right where the river curved slightly. Just as he had seen online, it was damp and sticky, a pale reddish-brown, almost earthy in color. It changed shape easily after just a few kneads.
The thod for identifying clay was also very simple, sothing he only truly understood after seeing it with his own eyes.
Clay exposed on the surface dries in the wind and looks almost the sa as ordinary dirt. But upon closer inspection, it wasn’t hard to notice that the dried clay was firm and solid, breaking into chunks even when shattered.
Ordinary soil, when dry, would crumble into sand with a squeeze of the hand, unable to hold any shape at all.
All he had to do was search the riverbank for these large, solidified clods, and there would most likely be clay underneath.
The dried-out top layer could be used just the sa after soaking it in water for a bit.
He wasn’t greedy. After collecting one basketful of clay, he imdiately turned and headed back toward his shelter.
The water-logged clay was far heavier than he’d imagined. The back-basket he had woven had about a fifteen-liter capacity, but filled with clay, it felt like a mountain on his shoulders, pressing down on him until he could barely breathe.
After just three or four hundred ters, he was panting so hard he felt like he was about to die. He had no choice but to switch to carrying it by hand.
He carried it in his left hand for five minutes, then his right for five minutes. He shouldered it on his left for five minutes, then his right for five minutes, before finally hoisting it back onto his back.
In the distance, the cliff face ca into view.
He had no idea how much ti had passed, only that the sky had darkened without him realizing it. His clothes were soaked through with sweat, and his boots, which had never really dried in the first place, were now even damper.
He could clearly feel several blisters forming on the soles of his feet, making every step an agony.
’This is unsustainable. I can’t go out tomorrow. I have to get a good rest.’
He wiped away the sweat dripping from his forehead, and his vision, which had been blurred by it, cleared considerably.
He glanced around, feeling a sense of familiarity about this spot.
"This place... it seems..."
"AWOOOOOOO~~~~~"
?????
The sudden howl echoed from the sky above the forest, startling flocks of birds. They flapped their wings, scrambling to scatter in every direction.
A chill shot down Lin Chen’s spine. A dreadful mory ca flooding back to him.
’Fuck.’
’Isn’t this the exact place I heard that howl last ti?’
’I’m screwed!’
Almost the sa ti, almost the sa place, almost the sa situation.
But this ti, he didn’t choose to run. He dropped the basket on the ground, his gaze instantly locking onto a tall spruce tree nearby.
After so many days of logging, he had already hauled away most of the shorter trees near his shelter for firewood and construction, leaving only the taller ones.
Drawing on his previous experience, his movents were much more practiced this ti.
He snatched up the Engineer Axe, swung it over his head, and with a high and a low strike, he instantly carved a small notch into the trunk.
The notch didn’t need to be deep—just enough for the tips of his toes to find purchase.
In just ten seconds, he carved out two notches. He stepped onto them and, winding up his arms, he brought the axe down with all his might.
THWACK.
THWACK.
The tree trunk trembled.
Since he was pressed flat against the tree, it was difficult to generate any power. The third notch took a good seven or eight strikes to complete.
By the ti he stepped onto the second notch, his left hand gripping the third one at chest level, he was already on the verge of collapse. His arms and legs trembled uncontrollably.
Just as he took a deep breath and forced himself to swing the Engineer Axe again, he suddenly heard the RUSTLE of crushed dead leaves not far behind him.
His heart leaped into his throat. Not daring to look back, he clenched his jaw and swung the axe down with all his might.
THWACK.
In this mont of crisis, his strength surged, and he carved out a new notch in a single strike.
Just as he was about to swing a second ti, the corner of his eye caught several black shapes flashing past at incredible speed.
His heart clenched. With a burst of strength from an unknown source, he pushed hard off his toes, tossed the Engineer Axe into the air, and used the opening to grab the new notch with his left hand, hoisting himself another half-ter up the trunk.
His right foot was now about one and a half ters off the ground. With his left foot dangling and his left hand clinging to the shallow notch, his right hand expertly caught the falling Engineer Axe.
But this height wasn’t enough to escape a wolf’s attack. An ordinary large dog could reach a person’s shoulder just by standing on its hind legs. At one and a half ters, a wolf would barely have to jump—it could reach him just by snapping its jaws.
His heart hamred in his chest like a drum, pounding in his ears. Lin Chen felt an unbearable heat course through his body as blood surged through his veins.
All his accumulated fatigue vanished in that instant. His mind was completely empty of fear, filled only with a thrilling excitent.
THWACK!
He swung the axe again, repeating the trick of tossing it upward and climbing another half-ter in the interim.
At this height, the two newest notches he’d cut were too shallow to stand on; he could only cling to them with the tips of his four fingers.
He caught the falling Engineer Axe, then looked up at the nearest branch. It was about a ter away, a distance he could shorten by more than half just by reaching.
If he were on flat ground, he could easily reach it with a running jump. But in his current state, pushing off from the toes of just one foot...
...it seed like a long shot.
Suddenly.
For no reason at all.
A premonition seed to strike him.
He looked down and his gaze t three pairs of curious eyes.
Two other greyish-black wolves were sniffing the nearby basket, the one filled with clay.
Three Yukon Wolves surrounded the trunk. They craned their necks, staring at the human clinging to the bark with an unnervingly human-like expression, as if pondering what species this strange, giant creature could possibly be.
GULP.
Lin Chen swallowed hard as all the facts he knew about wolves flooded his mind.
He twisted his face into a ferocious snarl, his eyes fierce, and without warning, he bellowed.
"GET LOST!!"
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