Chapter 12: The Hunt
Author: Wei Yi Yong Heng .
2014-12-24
The Blackstone Mountains were not only the food source of the Hammerstone Tribe, but also for the eight surrounding tribes. Yet, given the strength of those eight tribes, they only dared to hunt around the outskirts, never venturing deep into the heart of the Blackstone range.
Each of the nine tribes had their own designated hunting grounds. Even so, within the vast expanse of a hundred thousand miles of mountains, the areas occupied by all nine tribes together amounted to little more than a drop in the ocean.
Qin Mo carried a simple saber at his waist, a quiver on his back, and a sturdy wooden bow in his hand as he set out from the tribe. When he passed by the rear mountain, he saw several hundred people gathered there.
They were the tribe’s hunting teams—the ones responsible for feeding nearly a hundred thousand members of the Hammerstone Tribe.
After reaching adulthood, every man in the tribe was required to hunt. In Qin Mo’s inherited memories, the body’s previous owner—the pitiful young chieftain—had also joined many hunts before. Although he had not yet come of age at the time, he already possessed the strength of five hundred catties, making him a key part of the tribe’s common hunting force, second only to the warriors.
Of course, the tribe never truly allowed unawakened men to fight beasts directly. Most of the time, the warriors did the killing, while ordinary tribesmen—those who had not yet opened their apertures—were responsible for butchering and carrying the prey back home. Most warriors, meanwhile, hunted only in the outer regions.
Qin Mo’s arrival drew the attention of the gathered hunters. The hundred-man captain in charge of the team gave him only a single glance before turning away and continuing his instructions for the day’s hunt.
In the tribe’s structure, five men made a small squad, ten formed a platoon, and a hundred composed a large hunting team.
Each five-man squad had a leader called a wu-chang who had opened ten apertures. To achieve that, one must possess at least five thousand catties of strength.
Of course, in the Hammerstone Tribe, no wu-chang was that powerful—only the larger tribes could boast such men. Hence, in the Hammerstone Tribe, anyone who had opened ten apertures qualified as a wu-chang.
Every ten-man platoon had a leader called a shi-chang, who had opened twenty apertures. The entire hundred-man hunting team was commanded by a bai-fu-chang—a hundred-man captain.
Each day, ten such hunting teams, totaling over a thousand people, entered the Blackstone Mountains, overseen by a qian-fu-chang—a thousand-man commander—responsible for their safety.
“It’s him,” someone murmured. Though the captain ignored him, a few warriors in the ranks whispered curiously.
“There’s no place for him in the team. Is he… going hunting alone?”
“That can’t be right. Going into the mountains alone with only one opened aperture? That’s suicide!”
The murmurs grew louder. Qin Mo noticed among them the young prodigy Qin Yu, who had already opened ten apertures and become a shi-chang.
“Brother Qin Mo, over here! I’m over here!” A childish voice called out from the crowd.
It was the chubby boy, Li Xiaohu, waving eagerly. He too had joined the hunting party.
But Qin Mo knew well—Li Xiaohu had only gained five hundred catties of strength after his Blood Fusion last night. He was merely following the warriors to observe and learn; the captain would never allow him to take part in actual hunting.
Qin Mo did not walk over. He simply nodded kindly to the boy, then turned toward the side of the group and quickly disappeared into the shadowed entrance of the Blackstone Mountains.
“He’s really going in alone!” everyone gasped. Li Xiaohu’s face filled with worry; if not for the tribe’s strict military discipline, he would have run after Qin Mo to stop him.
Everyone knew Qin Mo was born gifted. Even before adulthood, he’d possessed five hundred catties of strength—the limit for ordinary tribesmen.
But fate had mocked him. During his coming-of-age ceremony, his blood test revealed a white blood, the mark of the lowest, most worthless bloodline. Disappointed, the tribe had given up on him. Even though he’d miraculously managed to open an aperture now, it was only one—giving him a mere six hundred catties of strength.
Every opened aperture added one hundred catties of power—no exceptions. With only that, going into the Blackstone Mountains alone was near suicide. If anything went wrong, not even his corpse would be found.
“Silence! This is the chief’s decision!” The captain’s stern voice silenced the crowd instantly.
As they watched Qin Mo’s lonely figure vanish into the mountain’s maw, Qin Yu smirked. Although the tribe chief had ordered this, he was certain the thousand-man commander in charge would secretly watch over Qin Mo.
“Enough. You all know the rules. If there are no objections, move out!” the captain ordered.
“Yes, sir!”
The hundred-man team answered in unison and marched toward the mountains.
But to the endless Blackstone range, even this large hunting party was no more significant than a line of ants.
The vast mountains loomed like a colossal beast, its jaws open wide to devour any human life that dared step into its domain…
A clear twang of a bowstring broke the stillness at the mountain’s edge.
From behind a rock, a white-feathered arrow streaked through dense brush and shot toward a gray wild hare grazing quietly.
Just as the arrow was about to pierce the hare’s skull, the animal suddenly kicked its hind legs and vanished in a blur.
Thunk!
The arrow buried itself in the grass, quivering briefly before coming to rest. The hare was gone.
Moments later, a young man stepped out from behind the rock—his face showing disappointment. He cautiously scanned the surroundings before pulling the arrow free and placing it back in his quiver. Then, swiftly, he moved away to find a new hiding spot.
The youth was Qin Mo. This was already his fifteenth missed shot of the day—and he had only fired fifteen arrows in total. Not one had struck home.
In the outermost regions of the Blackstone Mountains, there were no ancient beasts—those possessing condensed star cores—except under rare circumstances. But even these ordinary wild beasts were not easy to hunt.
“In the past, the warriors of the tribe never missed a shot. Why can’t I do it?” Qin Mo muttered. Though disappointed, he didn’t despair.
Instead, he calmly analyzed his actions, trying to figure out what he was doing wrong.
He had the strength of a thousand catties. The hardwood bow in his hands could easily be drawn to a full moon shape. His shooting speed was fast. Yet, he couldn’t hit his targets.
After pondering for a while without finding an answer, he decided to continue his patient waiting.
He had no choice but to use the clumsy method of waiting for the prey to come to him. With his current strength, even if he avoided ancient beasts, encountering a large wild beast could still be deadly. And without a team’s support, even a minor mistake could cost him his life.
Meanwhile—about two miles away—a man stood atop a tall tree, peering through the leaves toward Qin Mo’s direction.
It was Lin Tong, one of the tribe’s few thousand-man commanders.
Although the tribe chief hadn’t explicitly told him to watch over Qin Mo, he had taken it upon himself to do so.
“This boy’s not bad,” Lin Tong murmured. “He’s not reckless or greedy for quick results. Seems I worried too much.”
He sighed softly. “It’s a pity though… born with white waste blood. If only he had one of the nine-star bloodlines, his future would have been limitless.”
With that, Lin Tong shifted his gaze elsewhere, scanning the surrounding regions to ensure that none of the hunting teams strayed too far—or crossed into territories where ancient beasts dwelled…
