Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

The spring mountains resemble a battle formation.

Last night's heavy rain soaked the old forest north of Kaoshantun until it was soft and rotten.

The black soil is soaked with water; when you step on it, you can pull out half a pound of heavy clay.

The withered leaves that had rotted in the snowmelt were turned over, and the stench of decay that had been lingering all winter mixed with the bitter, fishy smell of the grass sprouting anew, and flowed straight into the lungs with the cold, damp wind.

Zhao Shanhe did not take the wide, old path that the hunters usually took.

If you really want to find a tiger, you can't go through human paths. You have to go through animal paths.

He led the black dragon, cutting diagonally into the old elm gully, and silently pressed into the deep forest along a narrow, thorny path carved out by wild boars.

Black Dragon led the way.

As soon as he entered the mountains, Heilong seemed to come back to life, and all the muscles in his body tensed up.

It pressed its dark nose almost against the mud, and its thick front paws left deep plum blossom prints on the slippery slope.

The mountain wind after the rain was too mixed, with the smells of roe deer, wild boar manure, and fishy water all mixed together.

Black Dragon suppressed a low, rolling sound in its throat, and several times tried to speed up and dive deeper into the ravine.

"slow."

Zhao Shanhe managed to squeeze out a single word through gritted teeth.

The black dragon froze, immediately halting its forward momentum. It glanced back at its master, tucked its tail between its legs, and dared not show the slightest hint of its usual frivolous and eager-to-do attitude.

The shotgun was still on his shoulder.

With a Type 56 semi-automatic rifle strapped to his back, he held the old-fashioned bolt-action shotgun steadily in his hand.

Zhao Shanhe walked very slowly and steadily.

Hunting a wild beast is never about wandering aimlessly in the mountains with a gun.

We need to figure out this beast's habits.

In the decades since the founding of the People's Republic of China, whenever the large saws of the forest farms outside started to whistle, tractors would rumble along the mountain roads every day, billowing black smoke.

Terrified wild animals, desperate to survive, recklessly plunged into the deepest part of the old forest.

Big cats, those mountain-owning creatures, hide even deeper and deeper.

The deeper you go, the denser the forest becomes.

The ancient pines and birches, some over a hundred years old, form a dense canopy that blocks out the sun, preventing even the spring breeze from getting in.

The sunlight couldn't penetrate the forest, so the chill on the ground couldn't dissipate.

The fallen leaves, rotting all winter, lay in the muddy water, emitting a pungent, putrid stench. Poisonous snakes, ticks, and blind mosquitoes all congregated in this sunless place.

The road beneath our feet can hardly be called a road.

Zhao Shanhe stepped through the black mud that reached above his ankles. With each step forward, his foot would make a dull, sticky sound as he pulled it out.

The mud kicked up by his boots wrapped his calves like two thick mud pillars, heavy as if filled with lead.

The Black Dragon fared even worse.

The hunting dog, which once had a glossy black coat, was now covered in mud after wading through a black puddle up to its belly.

Even when it was panting heavily, mud splattered on its nostrils that it couldn't shake off.

When they reached a shady, rocky ditch, the black dragon suddenly stopped.

Instead of bristling and growling like it would when encountering a large predator, it tensed its four legs, pulled its body back sharply, raised its tail straight up, and made a short, alert hissing sound from its throat.

Zhao Shanhe's eyes sharpened. Instead of reaching for the gun on his back, he instantly held the thick wooden stick he was using for probing in front of his chest.

In this forest, you must never fire a gun unless absolutely necessary.

The gunshot could be heard by tigers several mountains away, so the trip was a complete waste.

He followed the black dragon's gaze and slowly lowered his head.

Just a step ahead, on a piece of rotten, withered wood, was a clump of grayish-brown stuff.

The creature's color was exactly the same as the moss-covered bark of rotten wood. If it weren't for the fact that it was slowly raising its triangular head and flicking its blackish-red tongue, you wouldn't be able to tell that it was a "dust ball" that had already awakened.

In early spring, venomous snakes have just emerged from hibernation. Although their bodies are stiff, their venom is at its most potent during this time of year.

Taking a bite, in this old forest where there isn't even a path, there's no chance to go out and ask for help.

The earthen ball, as thick as an adult's arm, coiled its body tightly, its upper half suddenly retracting backward like a fully drawn bow, poised to spring up and bite.

Zhao Shanhe didn't even blink.

The thick wooden stick in his hand whistled sharply as he swung it forward with a sudden chop.

A muffled "snap" sounded.

Quick, accurate, ruthless.

The wooden stick struck the triangular head squarely on its vital spot, pinning the large venomous snake to the rotten wood.

The snake's body instantly began to twist and writhe violently like a thick rope, its tail lashing wildly at the muddy water, sending foul-smelling black mud flying everywhere.

Zhao Shanhe's eyes were cold, and he casually drew a machete from his waist with his free right hand.

With a flick of his wrist, the blade flashed.

The snake's head was severed at the root, and dark red snake blood sprayed onto the dead wood, emitting a wisp of white steam.

The headless snake's body was still twitching wildly in the mud.

Zhao Shanhe expressionlessly wiped the blood off the blade onto the tree bark and sheathed the knife.

"Walk."

He ignored the still-writhing remains of the dead snake on the ground, stepped over the rotten wood, and continued wading into the depths of the old forest, which seemed capable of swallowing everything, covered in mud.

That earthen ball, its head severed but still writhing, served as a stark reminder to the Black Dragon.

Originally, they still carried a bit of wildness and excitement from just entering the mountains, but now, the stench of those cold-blooded animals terrified them, and they completely suppressed their wildness.

It tucked its tail between its legs and took light, unsteady steps.

Every two or three steps it took forward, it would turn back to look at Zhao Shanhe, its eyes clearly showing lingering fear, as if it had lost its composure in the old forest, a place fraught with danger.

Zhao Shanhe remained silent.

In these man-eating mountains, any extra human voice can become a death sentence.

He simply stepped forward, extended his rough, muddy fingers, and pressed them heavily against the skin on the back of the black dragon's neck.

The force was extremely heavy.

The movements were extremely steady.

This gentle yet firm pressure acted like a stabilizing needle driven into the mud, forcefully suppressing the panic in Black Dragon's heart.

The black dragon let out a very faint whimper, and its restlessness was completely calmed down. It turned its head again and pressed itself tightly against Zhao Shanhe's leg, even slowing its breathing, and obediently reached forward.

The man and his dog waded through the mud for another half hour.

The woods are getting denser.

The towering ancient trees overhead almost completely blocked out the sunlight, and the surrounding air was like a stagnant pool of water, unable to let in even a breath of fresh air.

All I could see were grayish, withered tree bark and dark green moss.

The surroundings were so quiet that the only sound was the sticky sloshing of your feet sinking into the black mud.

Just as the man and dog rounded a shady, rocky, steep slope, the view ahead suddenly became a little wider.

A strong, pungent stench, mixed with the fishy smell of turned-up soil, suddenly hit me.

The black dragon stopped abruptly, its nose twitching violently against the ground, and the muscles in its forelegs tensed up once more.

Zhao Shanhe's eyes narrowed slightly, and he subtly raised the bolt-action shotgun in his hand by an inch.

He slowed his pace, his gaze passing over a few fallen, rotten trees, and looking at the relatively flat depression ahead.

It was a large expanse of completely destroyed black mud.

The thick layer of dead leaves and rotten soil that had covered the ground was completely turned upside down, leaving it pitted and uneven, as if it had just been roughly plowed by several large tractors.

The muddy ground was covered with countless hoof prints of varying depths and shapes, and many of the pits were filled with murky, yellowish mud.

The tender grass shoots and worms that had just sprouted under the roots of the big tree were completely devoured, roots and all.

Several birch trees, each as thick as a thigh, stood on the edge, their bark worn smooth and shiny from being rubbed, revealing the white wood beneath, with tufts of short, coarse, black hairs clinging to it.

It was territory that had just been cleared by a group of adult wild boars.

The puddles in the mud were still seeping out muddy water.

The wild boars didn't go far.

Even from behind the bushes in front, you could faintly hear the squeals of several piglets fighting for food, as well as the heavy breathing of the wild boar.

Zhao Shanhe's eyes flashed, and he immediately came up with a plan.

Finding a big cat in the mountains in spring is like looking for a needle in a haystack. But since we've stumbled upon a herd of wild boars, this is a natural, live bait provided by God.

The creatures in the old forest all follow certain rules.

Winter had just passed, and the mountains had been blocked by heavy snow for several months. Whether it was people or animals, no one had any food left in their bellies.

The wild boar was hungry, but the big cat was even hungrier.

For the Siberian tiger, which desperately needed to fatten up, these wild boars, heads bowed and grazing, completely unsuspecting, were the perfect first course of spring.

It's definitely scouting the area nearby, and may have even set its sights on these pigs.

But tigers are naturally suspicious, and their noses are even sharper than a dog's.

The winds in Chunshan are the most unpredictable, darting about in all directions.

If even a hint of human scent or dog odor wafts by, the big cat will not pounce on the pig; instead, it will follow the wind and sneak up behind the hunter, treating him like a snack.

To ambush a big cat, you must first turn yourself into a dead creature in the forest.

Zhao Shanhe did not hesitate at all.

He reached out and gripped the black dragon's collar tightly, pressing it firmly into the mud. He then took a half-step back and crouched behind a thick, dead tree.

Then, he decisively put down the old-fashioned bolt-action shotgun.

Two large hands, used to handling guns year-round, plunged directly into the cold, smelly black mud pit next to them.

"Smack."

He dug out a handful of foul-smelling mud mixed with rotten leaves and wild boar urine.

Zhao Shanhe didn't even blink, and directly smeared the cold, bone-chilling mud on his face and neck.

The icy muddy water flowed down the sheepskin collar into his chest, instantly drawing away a large amount of body heat. The nauseating stench that had been simmering all winter shot straight to the top of his head.

But his hands didn't stop moving.

Chest, arms, sheepskin vest.

He ruthlessly smeared a thick layer of black mud all over them.

The black dragon lying next to him was getting agitated by the smell of wild boar. Just as it was about to raise its head, Zhao Shanhe scooped up a large puddle of mud and smeared it directly on the dog's nose and back.

Just as the black dragon let out a soft, aggrieved whimper, Zhao Shanhe's cold, sharp gaze swept over it.

Black Dragon trembled and immediately shut his mouth tightly, burying his head in the rotten leaves to play dead.

The cold, pungent mud perfectly masked the warmth and smell of life on the people and dogs.

Zhao Shanhe was no longer recognizable as a human being; he looked exactly like a dead tree stump pulled out of the mud.

He picked up the old hunting rifle again, his rough thumb silently flicking the safety.

The gun muzzle slipped silently through the gaps in the tangled branches of the dead tree, locking onto the bushes where the wild boar herd was located.

The people and the live bait are all here.

They were just waiting for the new king from the mountains to come to the banquet.

This wait lasted for a full three hours.

In the spring mountains, darkness falls faster than outside. As the sun shifts to one side, the light in the forest seems to be drained away, gradually dimming.

The mud plastered on Zhao Shanhe's body had long since dried, forming a hard, cold shell, like a shackle tightly binding his flesh.

The cold air seeped into the bones through the mud.

His legs were completely numb and had lost all feeling; only his right shoulder, which was pressed against the butt of the rifle, and his fingers, which were tightly gripping the trigger guard, remained absolutely stable.

The black dragon under the rotten leaves was breathing so faintly that it was completely still, as if it were dead.

In the bushes ahead, the group of wild boars had completely let their guard down.

The boar, having eaten and drunk its fill, lay snoring in the mud puddle, while several piglets were still rooting at each other for a bite of tender grass, making unsuspecting grunts.

Everything was just ordinary.

Normally, Zhao Shanhe didn't even dare to blink, because if he relaxed, the mountain wind would blow away his willpower.

Just then, something unexpected happened.

There was no earth-shattering tiger roar.

There was no huge commotion of a strong wind sweeping up fallen leaves.

A huge, black and yellow shadow suddenly burst open in the dead corner right next to the mud puddle.

too fast.

It was so fast that the naked eye couldn't even catch the trajectory of its leap.

That enormous creature, weighing at least four or five hundred pounds, seemed to have emerged from the dark, withered tree trunks, bringing with it a nauseatingly bloody stench, and silently crashed into the very center of the wild boar herd.

"Snap!"

A deafening sound of bones breaking suddenly rang out, drowning out all the wind.

The 300-pound boar, still snoring in the mud puddle, didn't even have time to let out a scream before its thick cervical vertebrae were instantly bitten and crushed by a gaping maw.

The wild boar herd instantly erupted into chaos. Their piercing screams tore through the deathly silence of the old forest, and countless wild boars, like headless flies, frantically crashed through the bushes and fled in all directions.

Zhao Shanhe lay prone behind the dead tree, and the hairs on his body stood on end in that instant.

A cold sweat mixed with fear instantly broke through the muddy shell on his back and flowed wildly down his spine.

He stared intently at the magnificent beast that had the boar pinned beneath its claws, his heart pounding as if gripped by an invisible iron hand, nearly stopping.

When exactly did this beast sneak over here?

He stared intently at that bush for three hours, not missing a single unusual tremor of a leaf.

The wind direction remained unchanged.

Even the top-tier hunting dog Black Dragon, whose nose was sharper than a ghost's, didn't shudder even once from beginning to end!

It evaded the old hunter's eyes, avoided the direction of the mountain wind, and even completely blocked the intuition of a top-class hunting dog.

Like a ghost from the abyss, right under the noses of a man and a dog, they brazenly carried out this horrifying killing.