Martial Arts: I Have a Wilderness World Chapter 6: Pheasant

He pulled open the wooden door of the thatched hut, truly setting foot in the Wilderness World for the first ti.

Stepping out of the small hut, he took in his surroundings. It was like being in a prival forest, the kind he had only ever seen in movies.

The surroundings were tranquil, the air filled with a mixture of scents from fresh grass, trees, and decaying leaves.

The few rays of sunlight that pierced the canopy were fragnted by the branches of the towering trees, creating a sparse, mottled pattern of light and shadow on the ground, which was covered in dead branches and fallen leaves.

As he stepped outside, he felt the chill in the air. Standing in the dim woods and gazing at the strange, primitive forest, Cheng Zongyang couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear.

It was a reverence for nature.

The endless chorus of insects and birdsong throughout the forest gave him so comfort; at least it ant his surroundings weren’t lethally dangerous.

A dead silent forest was what was truly to be feared.

That ant terror.

"There should be plenty of prey in a place like this."

Cheng Zongyang murmured to himself, readied his Bow and Arrow, and began to explore.

Hearing and sight were both crucial for hunting.

His eyes were sharp, scanning his surroundings piece by piece. He listened intently, attentive to any movent in the area.

He didn’t wander aimlessly. He first made a full circle around the hut to get his bearings.

Noticing that the terrain to the northwest was relatively flat, he decided to explore that area first.

To avoid getting lost, he periodically carved an "L" shaped mark into the trunks of the trees he passed. The ’L’ pointed the way back; the reverse indicated the direction he was heading.

"COO COO..."

He had walked no more than two or three hundred ters when he heard a sound like a pheasant’s call.

He stopped and looked to his left, in the nine o’clock direction. Over there, in a patch of low-lying shrubs, several gray-feathered pheasants were hopping about.

A smile touched the corners of Cheng Zongyang’s lips.

’The distance... should be about fifty to sixty ters,’ Cheng Zongyang estimated, his eyes scanning the area based on experience.

Realizing they were out of his Bow and Arrow’s effective range, he began to move forward slowly.

He advanced about thirty ters, took cover behind a tree, and scanned the ground for any unwelco critters before beginning his preparations.

A few seconds later, he nocked an arrow and drew his bow. Cheng Zongyang stepped out from behind the tree, his eyes fixed like a hawk’s on a pheasant at the top of the bushes. It was cooing and ruffling its feathers.

It looked like it was performing a mating display.

’Lust will be the death of you, buddy,’ Cheng Zongyang thought as he locked onto his target. He relaxed his right finger.

TWANG! The bowstring vibrated as the Wooden Arrow shot out like a shooting star.

In the blink of an eye, the pheasant—which a second ago had been craning its neck to call out again—was pierced by the Wooden Arrow. The force of the impact sent it flying before it hit the ground, where it flapped and struggled.

The sudden violence startled the other pheasants in the thicket, sending them scattering into the air with a flurry of wings.

Cheng Zongyang paid them no mind. Instead of rushing over, he remained in place and waited for a few minutes.

At the sa ti, a notification box appeared before him—

[Gray Mountain Pheasant killed. Points 1]

Three seconds later, the box vanished.

Cheng Zongyang wasn’t surprised; this had been ntioned in the briefing materials.

When he saw that no other creatures had appeared, he cautiously approached the shrubs.

The pheasant was already dead.

"Whoa. I couldn’t tell from a distance, but up close... this thing has to be at least seven or eight pounds, right?"

Cheng Zongyang stared, dumbfounded, at the massive pheasant. Compared to the scrawny one he’d bagged yesterday, this one looked like it had been shot up with steroids.

’Looks like the creatures in this world are nice and plump,’ Cheng Zongyang thought, his eyes shining.

And that ant money!

Cheng Zongyang took out a long bamboo tube and a Firewood Knife. He quickly pulled out the Wooden Arrow and, while keeping an eye on his surroundings, deftly began to bleed the pheasant.

He collected the blood in the bamboo tube, wasting nothing.

In tis of famine, when grain and at were scarce, a bowl of blood could save a life.

Once coagulated, the blood could be chopped up and added to wild vegetables to make a large pot of soup.

Even if his family didn’t eat it, he could sell it in the county town.

At the very least, he could give it to a neighbor to curry so favor.

Once the blood was fully drained, he capped the tube, placed it back in his basket, and took out a shorter bamboo tube.

The mont he uncapped it, a pungent odor wafted out.

Holding his breath, Cheng Zongyang poured out so of the gray, dry powder and rubbed it onto the pheasant’s feathers.

He then placed the pheasant in a burlap sack and put it back in his basket, but took out the mouse he had brought with him.

The powder’s purpose was to mask the scent of blood, a trick his father had taught him. It helped prevent animals with keen noses from picking up the scent and tracking him.

With that taken care of, Cheng Zongyang was about to leave when he seed to rember sothing. He turned back toward the shrubs.

He rummaged around for a mont, and his eyes lit up.

Jackpot!

Soon, he had collected several palm-sized wild eggs from the thicket.

"Heh, not bad. Got my protein."

Cheng Zongyang was thrilled. He hadn’t expected the Gray Mountain Pheasant’s eggs to be so large.

It had been a long ti since he’d had such a good haul.

Finding a rocky spot, Cheng Zongyang dismbered the mouse and took out a small packet folded from yellow paper.

He had brought two packets with him this ti: one contained his family’s homade styptic powder, and the other was the Sedative he now held in his hand.

His father, in his quest to catch prey, had developed countless strange substances and contraptions.

This Sedative was sothing Cheng Guanghai had developed. While hunting in the mountains one day, he’d accidentally discovered a purple plant that bore small fruits. Lying all around it were countless insects, rats, and ants.

The creatures weren’t dead, just unconscious. It was as if they had all fallen asleep.

After so research, he learned to use its fruit to create the Sedative.

It had little effect on humans, but it worked wonders on animals.

It was easy to guess that the plant had evolved this defense chanism to prevent animals from eating its fruit.

Unfortunately, the plant was very rare and hard to find.

The supply he’d brought with him was small and nearly gone.

He sared so of the powder on the mouse carcass, carefully folded the paper packet away, and then tied up the mouse with a vine.

After a look around, Cheng Zongyang hung it from a tree branch. This way, he might be able to bait an animal without any extra effort.

Back ho, he had used this trick often and caught a fair amount of ga. But as more people started going into the mountains, the thod beca less effective.

He checked the mouse carcass one last ti, and seeing no issues, he turned to leave.

But just as he turned, he froze.

The hair on his arms stood on end. He stared intently at a black creature in his eleven o’clock that was staring right back at him.

GULP.

Staring at the black creature, Cheng Zongyang couldn’t help but swallow hard, his left hand gripping the longbow tightly.

It wasn’t from hunger, but... a primal fear response from his body.

It was a Black Panther!

And it was as big as a tiger!