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

After uttering those harsh words, Zhao Shanhe did not sit back down by the fire to idly wait.

He grabbed the half-wet cotton-padded jacket covered in ice crystals, draped it over the thickest branch of the fallen tree, and then turned the bulging canvas bag upside down under the jacket, creating the silhouette of a person hunched over and tucking their neck in to warm themselves by the fire.

The dim red light in the fire pit flickered and licked at me.

A glimpse through the night fog from afar, and it looks like a frozen mountain hermit, listlessly tending to a campfire all night.

Zhao Shanhe squinted and looked around, then reached out and pulled down the collar of his cotton-padded jacket by half an inch, making the shadow of the inanimate object sway in the wind more like a breathing living person.

After doing all that, he picked up the old hunting rifle with one hand, pressed down on the back of the black dragon's neck with the other, and moved slowly into the deepest shadow, close to the cold, icy stone wall.

step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

There was no sound of friction when my feet landed, and the soles of my shoes sank precisely into the mud I had just waded into.

Not a single blade of grass was broken, not a single leaf was knocked off.

Only when his figure was completely swallowed up by the thick darkness in the crack of the cliff did Zhao Shanhe slowly lie down and silently pass the cold barrel of his gun through the gap between two rocks.

Residual fire.

dummy.

The muddy clearing in front of the fallen log.

They were all firmly pinned to the deadly angle between the rear sight and the front sight.

Black Dragon lay obediently by his muddy trouser leg, not even chewing the fattest piece of jerky near his mouth, his dog eyes staring intently at the forest.

Zhao Shanhe gripped the dog's neck tightly with his left hand, while his right index finger rested on the trigger, suppressing the last vestiges of warmth in his eyes, which melted into the deathly silence like a piece of raw iron.

That night was extremely long.

It looks like someone has been thrown into a living coffin with no end in sight.

In the cold wind of the latter half of the night, the man-eating dark forest made a total of three noises.

The first sound came suddenly from under the dense bushes to the right front, a very crisp "snap" sound.

It was as if some living creature weighing several hundred pounds had stepped on and broken the frozen, withered branch.

Zhao Shanhe's gun barrel instantly followed his gaze, locking onto the shadowy area.

But the sound only lasted a short half-sound, and then it was gone.

The second time, a fist-sized boulder rolled down the steep, muddy slope on the left without warning.

The stone rolled down the muddy surface with a gurgling sound, crashing straight into the edge of the fire pit and striking a piece of unburnt firewood with a dull thud.

The sparks were jolted upwards.

The wet cotton-padded coat propped up by the dummy on the fallen log swayed violently twice in the cold wind.

The third time was when the first hint of dawn appeared in the east, just before daybreak.

The black dragon, who had been holding his breath, suddenly let out a half-sounded, distorted whimper from deep in his throat.

Zhao Shanhe exerted force instantly, pressing the dog's head firmly into the cold mud.

Black Dragon's muscles were taut like a bow about to break, and his nostrils twitched violently.

Even without the dog's prompting, Zhao Shanhe could smell it.

Following the coldest breeze before dawn, a faint yet nauseating fishy smell crept into my nostrils.

That taste is definitely not from a wild boar that spends all year rooting in mud.

That was the unique stench emanating from the king of beasts, who was accustomed to eating raw meat.

Zhao Shanhe's index finger on the trigger tightened instantly, the gun strap digging into the veins on the back of his hand.

But he remained motionless, like a clay sculpture.

The pungent, fishy smell that could terrify anyone only lingered in the wind for a brief moment before vanishing completely like a ghost.

It felt as if the intense pressure that had been scalping was just an illusion caused by not having rested for a long time.

But Zhao Shanhe knew better than anyone that it was definitely not some kind of hallucination or illusion.

That giant, demonic insect has come by.

It clung to the very edge where the firelight barely reached, scrutinizing him from above with its cold, vertical pupils.

I've seen that pile of embers that were almost extinguished.

I've seen that decoy dummy that looked quite convincing sitting next to the fallen log.

It saw all of this, but it didn't make that final, fatal leap. It didn't even make a sound against a single extra twig, and just silently retreated into the abyss.

The man and the tiger, separated by a bottomless dark forest, endured until dawn.

When the eastern mountain ridge was completely torn apart by the pale morning light, Zhao Shanhe's eyes, which had been dry all night, were so dry that they looked like they were about to bleed.

My eyelids felt like they'd been brutally sanded with coarse sandpaper; even the slightest blink caused excruciating pain.

He moved his right index finger, which was aimed at the gun, very slowly.

My knuckles were as stiff as frozen dry twigs; even a slight bend sent a tingling, numbing sensation through my bones.

Black Dragon wasn't much better off than him.

The beast didn't dare close its eyes all night. Half of its body was soaked in the cold mud. Its shiny black fur was soaked by the cold dew and stuck to its skin. A layer of fine white frost even condensed on the tip of its nose.

But it didn't dare bark once, its bloodshot eyes still fixed on the edge of the woods.

Zhao Shanhe stretched out his stiff palm and rubbed it hard on its frosty head twice, his voice hoarse as if scraping against an iron plate: "Old buddy, it seems we've met a master. This beast is trying to outlive us to death."

After saying that, he leaned on the cold, piercing barrel of his gun, gritted his teeth, and forced himself to pull himself out of the shadows of the stone wall.

His lumbar spine and back felt like they were being held tightly by rusty steel bars. The excruciating pain, mixed with the tingling numbness in his bones, shot straight to the top of his head. He forced down the muffled groan that was about to rise in his throat.

He didn't go to retrieve the wet cotton-padded dummy from the fallen log, nor did he pay attention to the long-dead black ash in the pit. Instead, he leveled his old hunting rifle and waded into the muddy ground ahead, one step at a time.

It was on the edge of a muddy puddle, less than three zhang away from the fire pit.

Zhao Shanhe froze on the spot.

Black Dragon also stopped, clinging tightly to his trouser leg, and let out a very soft whimper uncontrollably from his throat.

On the muddy surface, there was a huge tiger paw print.

It was a whole size larger than Zhao Shanhe's fully open palm, a grown man.

The mud squeezed out from the edges of the claw prints gleamed with a chilling wet sheen in the cold morning light.

A few strands of withered grass, crushed into the mud by the terrifying force, still oozed fresh, greenish sap from their broken ends.

Zhao Shanhe stared intently at the enormous claw mark that was big enough to crush a person's head, and didn't breathe a sigh of relief for a long time.

That big worm really did come last night.

And it came extremely close.

It was so close that if it took just half a step forward, its steel tiger claws, capable of easily tearing apart a wild boar's back, could instantly smash the dummy next to the fire, along with the fallen log, into pieces.

Zhao Shanhe wiped his dry eyes with his chapped thumb, his mind clear as a mirror: the situation was now completely unfavorable.

If we continue to huddle under this rotten cliff, even if this big cat bites our necks off, we'll freeze or die from exhaustion from the cold winds of this old forest.

We must never let this beast lead us by the nose again.

Hunting in the deep mountains, once you find yourself on the defensive, you're not far from becoming the belly of a wild beast.

A fierce killing intent surged in Zhao Shanhe's eyes.

Since this cunning beast likes to play dirty tricks and hide in the shadows to play the "hunting eagle" game, then let's just give it this deadly place.

He wanted to use himself, a living person, as the most deadly bait.

Voluntarily withdraw.

Intentionally revealing a weakness.

By using this illusion of being unable to hold on and retreating in panic, we can take advantage of the beast's greed and confidence.

He wanted to completely turn this dead end around through the movement, leading this four- or five-hundred-pound tiger to a new, one-way, deadly sniping position.