Wild cultivation begins with wielding the Taiyin talisman.

A barricade had been erected at the village entrance sometime earlier, and a large number of villagers had already gathered there, eagerly waiting. Ning Che could see from afar that Xiao Hu, who was clinging to his own courtyard wall and standing on tiptoe to look, was squeezed at the very front of the crowd.

Upon seeing the hunting team, Little Tiger immediately ran up excitedly, his short legs kicking incredibly fast. Pointing to the giant bear carcass being carried by the men in the group, he proudly shouted at the top of his lungs, "Look! I told you Brother Xing and the others could bring that big guy back!"

Ning Che twitched the corner of his mouth, but before he could reply, he saw the commotion in the crowd suddenly stop. The villagers' gazes passed over the majestic bear carcass and fell in unison towards the back of the group.

Those seriously wounded soldiers, carried on the backs or supported on the shoulders of their comrades, were gritting their teeth and suppressing their groans of pain; the blood on their trouser legs had already soaked through and scabbed over.

The crowd at the village entrance rushed forward. Some women supported their sons with broken legs, their clothes soaked with tears; others embraced their husbands, weeping with joy.

The other villagers were also busy; some took the blood-stained weapons and bags, while others gently supported the wounded, and they all crowded around the shaman's small building. The quiet village entrance was suddenly filled with a cacophony of voices and bustling activity.

Seeing that he was not up to the task, Ning Che lent a hand until all six seriously wounded soldiers had been sent away. Only then did he bid farewell to Shi Yong, who was busy coordinating manpower.

"Brother Xingxing!" Little Tiger excitedly followed, tilting his little face up and asking, "How did you kill this big bear? Tell me quickly!"

Several villagers who had gathered around nodded in agreement, their eyes full of curiosity.

Ning Che simply waved his hand, his voice tinged with the weariness of battle: "Mainly, Uncle Shi Yong held off the bear demon head-on, and Uncle Fu Gui's arrows blocked its retreat. I just helped out a little."

He didn't say anything more, turned around and went into his house.

Xiao Hu followed him into the house, clinging to the edge of the table, still wanting to ask more questions. Ning Che first filled a basin with water, then raised his chin and said, "Your Uncle Yong is distributing bear meat at the village entrance. If you're late, you won't get any hot meat. I'll tell you the whole story about the hunt later."

Little Tiger's eyes lit up, and with a cheer, he darted out, finally bringing quiet to the room.

Ning Che looked down at his hand, rinsed it with water, and only then did he realize how badly it was injured.

The skin on my palms and fingers was almost completely worn away, revealing tender flesh underneath that was bleeding. Hundreds of fine scratches were embedded with dust and grit. When the cold water hit my hands, a needle-like pain instantly shot through my entire body. My left hand was slightly better, but it was also covered in abrasions, and my fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

He gritted his teeth, barely managing to pinch the powder in his left hand, sprinkling it little by little onto the wound, cold sweat beading on his forehead from the pain. The commotion outside the courtyard wall grew louder and louder, but Shi Yong's booming voice drowned out all the noise:

"Quiet down! This bear meat will be divided among everyone, every household will get a share! The bear hide will be tanned to make leather armor, and the bear bones will be boiled to nourish our bodies! When the beast tide comes, we'll use these things to fight those beasts!"

This was followed by a deafening cheer, which could be heard clearly even through the courtyard wall.

Ning Che's eyes held no hint of a smile. He understood, of course, the village chief and Shi Yong's intentions. With the calamity of drought upon them, every household's stored grain was rotting at a visible rate, and with the instigation of those with ulterior motives, panic had already gripped the people.

In the morning, some people were blocking the village chief's door, crying that all their seeds had rotted. The value of this bear demon's corpse lies not only in its meat and fur, but also in giving them peace of mind.

But this reassurance probably won't last long. The hunting party only had twenty people, six of whom were seriously injured, and the rest were limping and had also lost their fighting ability.

Not only did the hunting team suffer heavy losses, but Shi Ying would likely be unable to handle anything else. And the calamity had only just begun; the truly overwhelming beast tide was yet to come.

He had just tightly wrapped his right hand with burlap when hurried footsteps sounded outside the courtyard gate. A young woman from the village pushed open the door and rushed in. Seeing him, she said urgently, "Xing, the shaman sent me to ask you if your hand injury can hold out? There are too many wounded, and no one else knows how to treat broken bones. She's simply overwhelmed!"

Ning Che glanced at his still-bleeding left hand, his fingertips instinctively curling as a sharp, stabbing pain shot through him again. But remembering the pale faces of the wounded and Shi Ying's furrowed brows, he simply nodded, grabbed a burlap sack, wrapped it around his left hand, and stood up, saying, "Let's go."

As the two reached the center of the village, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye that the window of the guest room where the mountain keeper lived was half open, and the fat woman was peering out from the windowsill, her gaze fixed on him.

The moment their eyes met, she slammed the window shut with a loud bang.

Ning Che didn't stop walking, but his heart tightened. Even if these three failed to stir up emotions among the villagers, they would never give up easily and would probably take further action.

The shaman's small building had its door open, and the bitter smell of herbs mingled with the heavy stench of blood, assaulting the senses. Six seriously wounded men lay on the ground covered with dry straw, their groans of pain rising and falling. Shi Ying's usually aloof expression was now deeply furrowed, and her forehead was covered in cold sweat.

Ning Che went straight in, glanced at the room full of wounded people, and said bluntly, "Call four family members who are able to handle their hands and feet over here. I will dictate the steps and watch you carry them out."

Without hesitation, Shi Ying immediately called over four family members who volunteered. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Ning Che grabbed a handful of powder and smeared it hard on his left hand. He groaned in pain, and cold sweat instantly poured down his forehead.

Once the bleeding was initially stopped, he began to demonstrate, teaching the family members step by step how to clean the wound, stop the bleeding, make a splint, and immobilize the broken bone, explaining each step clearly. Shi Ying, meanwhile, was performing witchcraft to stabilize the wound, but her movements as she raised her hand became slower and slower, and her face grew paler and paler.

Ning Che looked up and saw her subconsciously reach for her waist, her fingertips missing their target. She paused for half a second, then immediately withdrew her hand and continued casting the spell, her eyes growing even more somber.

Everyone worked until the sun was setting before the last wounded soldier's wound was finally completely treated.

Shi Ying swayed violently from casting too many spells, barely managing to steady herself by holding onto the table. Her face was as white as paper, even her lips were bloodless, and she seemed to have all her strength drained away.

"How is it?" Ning Che walked over and asked in a low voice.

"The broken bones have been stabilized. The witchcraft can hold the wound in place, but it will take at least seven days to fully heal." Shi Ying took a sip of water, closed her eyes, and her voice was filled with unconcealed exhaustion. "During these seven days, I have to cast spells on them twice a day. I will hardly have time to deal with anything else, let alone the beast tide and that matter."

Ning Che naturally understood what she meant by "that matter," nodded, and comforted her, "Take care of the wounded first, and leave the rest to us. I'll go find Uncle Shi Yong and the village chief later to discuss it again."

Just as Shi Ying was about to speak, a commotion suddenly erupted outside the small building. Shi Yong's loud voice, filled with barely suppressed anger, burst forth, as if he were having a heated argument with someone.

The two exchanged a glance, both seeing wariness in each other's eyes. Ignoring their exhaustion and injuries, they immediately turned and hurried towards the door.

Shi Yong's angry shouts grew closer, mixed with the clamor of the villagers. Ning Che had just reached out and pushed open the wooden door when he heard a clang—the sound of a weapon being drawn.