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

How could a tiger weighing four or five hundred pounds be killed with a single stab?

Even though the knife pierced its throat, the ferocity inherent in this worm exploded completely at that moment.

"Roar—Gurgle!"

The roar of the beast had barely left its throat when it was choked by the blood rushing into its trachea, turning into a chilling, grating sound like a broken bellows.

It shook its enormous head violently as if possessed, trying to throw off the person stuck under its neck.

Zhao Shanhe's right hand was firmly welded to the hilt of the old deer antler knife, and the web of his hand was violently shaken open, with blood flowing straight down his wrist.

He was pulled out of the mud by the terrifying force of the tiger raising its head, his feet dangling in the air.

We must never let go.

If that beast gets an opening, its steel teeth will crush his head in the next second.

At this critical moment, Zhao Shanhe became ruthless. Instead of loosening his grip on the knife handle, he steeled himself and, using the momentum of being suspended in mid-air, wrapped his legs tightly around the tiger's thick neck!

He leaned back with all his might, hanging his entire weight of over 100 pounds on the hunting knife.

The knife wasn't sharpened.

But the spine of the knife is frighteningly thick.

Zhao Shanhe gritted his teeth, gripped the knife handle with both hands, and stabbed it fiercely into the tiger's throat!

"Sizzle!"

The tough, thick skin and tracheal cartilage were forcibly shredded by the rough blade, and a stream of black blood from the major artery gushed out like a fountain, shooting up more than two meters high and staining the mossy stone wall next to it a scarlet red.

The worm was in excruciating pain.

Its two steel-like front claws were wildly scratching and clawing in mid-air.

"Pfft!"

The tiger's right claw, with its barbs, slammed hard onto Zhao Shanhe's thigh.

The thick cotton pants, along with the skin and flesh inside, were instantly torn off in a large chunk, leaving them bleeding profusely, with the flesh rolled up and the fascia clearly visible.

Zhao Shanhe was in so much pain that his whole body was convulsing, but his hands just wouldn't let go. Instead, he used the excruciating pain to press the hunting knife down another half inch.

The man and the tiger were locked in a tight entanglement, like a giant blood gourd, before crashing down into a muddy pit at the edge of the cliff with a loud thud.

The worm's enormous body rolled and convulsed wildly.

Zhao Shanhe was pinned at the bottom, and he didn't know if his ribs were broken or not. His entire chest cavity was so painful and numb from the pressure.

His mouth and nose were filled with foul-smelling tiger blood and rotten mud, and he was completely deprived of his breath by the heavy mountain of flesh.

But he still gripped the deer antler hunting knife tightly.

agitation.

Stir again.

Until the mountain tyrant's rolling movements became slower and slower.

Until those four thick tiger legs went from wildly kicking to a series of weak spasms.

Finally, the enormous tiger head slammed heavily against Zhao Shanhe's cheek, and warm tiger blood flowed down his neck.

This mountain tyrant, who had roamed the old forest for half his life, finally breathed his last.

Dead silence.

A deathly silence fell over the cliff, broken only by the mournful sound of the wind whistling through the rocks.

A full half-incense stick's time had passed.

The finger at the very bottom, covered in mud and blood, moved with tremendous difficulty.

Zhao Shanhe gasped for breath, his lungs feeling like they had been ripped open, each breath accompanied by a bloody wheezing sound.

With his unbroken right hand, he pressed against the tiger's cold chin, and with his shoulder against the cliff wall, he slowly pushed away half of the hundreds of pounds of dead flesh pressing on his chest.

He struggled to crawl halfway out of the bloody mud.

His face was unrecognizable, covered in mud and torn flesh smeared with blood.

He ignored his bleeding thighs and the dead worm.

Instead, he used both hands and feet, like a mudfish out of water, dragging his useless left arm, and crawled step by step toward the pile of rocks a few meters away.

The black dragon lay there.

Half of his body was soaked in blood, and a large gash had been torn open under his ribs by tiger claws, the flesh rolled up, a horrifying sight.

Zhao Shanhe crawled over, his right hand, trembling, reaching out and pressing it against the dog's neck.

weak.

But it's still jumping.

Even if it's as faint as a wisp of smoke that might break at any moment, it is still the heartbeat of a living thing.

On Zhao Shanhe's face, which was covered in blood and mud, the stiff muscles twitched twice.

The pent-up frustration that had been building up in his chest finally burst out heavily down his throat.

As long as he's not dead.

As long as he has a breath left, he'll pull his old friend back, even if it means wading through the King of Hell's boiling oil.

He gritted his teeth and, with his only remaining right hand trembling, reached into the pocket of his inner garment and pulled out an oil paper package warmed by his body heat.

Inside was a packet of top-grade anti-inflammatory and hemostatic powder that Old Sun had given him before he went into the mountains.

He simply bit open the oil paper with his teeth, without even looking at it, and poured most of the packet of powdered medicine into the bloody gash under Black Dragon's ribs.

Use powdered medicine to kill meat.

The unconscious Black Dragon convulsed violently in pain, letting out a weak whimper.

"Hang in there, old buddy..."

Zhao Shanhe groaned hoarsely, tore off the last dry strip of cloth from his tattered cotton-padded jacket, and used one hand, along with his teeth, to tightly bind and bandage the wound under Heilong's ribs.

Until the last knot is tied.

The pent-up anger that had sustained him through his desperate struggle began to dissipate uncontrollably.

Once the adrenaline recedes, excruciating pain, as if bones are shattering, crashes down on you like a tidal wave.

But the old hunter's survival instincts forced him to suppress the dizziness that was about to pull him into the abyss.

The pungent smell of blood everywhere would attract wolves and lynxes from within a ten-mile radius in less than half an hour.

Lying in this muddy puddle is like offering a snack to passing wild animals.

Zhao Shanhe gasped, a breath of cold air mixed with blood and foam, and poured the last bit of powder from the oil paper packet onto the deep, bloody hole in his thigh where the fascia was visible.

The powder was killing his flesh, and the excruciating pain made his whole body shudder violently as if he were having a seizure.

He gritted his teeth, tore off a leg from his tattered cotton trousers, and tied it tightly around his thigh to forcefully stop the bleeding.

After bandaging himself, he turned and stared at the dry rock protruding more than half a meter high at the end of the crevice.

That was the highest point on this "Headless Cliff," with three sides hanging in the air, making it extremely difficult for wild animals to climb up.

Zhao Shanhe used both his hands and feet, his left arm hanging limply, relying only on the strength of his right side, like a dying worm struggling to crawl upwards on the mud and gravel.

He gripped the thick skin on the back of the black dragon's neck tightly with his right hand, dragging the half-dead old dog, leaving a long, shocking trail of blood on the stone.

The moment I climbed to the top of the boulder.

With his last ounce of strength, he pushed the black dragon into the sheltered hollow at the innermost part of the boulder.

After doing all this.

A sudden tightness gripped my chest.

It felt like a rusty iron awl had been stabbed into my lungs; a blast of cold air was stuck in my throat, making me gasp for air.

The cliff in front of them instantly turned into a blood-red expanse with double images.

Before he could even cry out in pain, boundless darkness surged up like an abyss.

"thump."

Zhao Shanhe's body swayed, his right hand still tightly gripping the deer antler hunting knife, as he collapsed onto the cold, hard rock surface, completely unconscious.