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

The north wind howls, and the forest stretches endlessly.

Zhao Shanhe, wearing birchwood skis, lowered his body, almost pressing himself against the snow.

On this hard, iron-like "Iron-Shelled Snow," he was like a swooping eagle, so fast that even the sound of the wind was drawn into a sharp whistle.

The ancient trees on both sides seemed to recede wildly like phantoms, and the swirling snow mist left two long white dragons trailing behind them.

"Keep up!"

Zhao Shanhe turned around and roared, but his voice was instantly torn apart by the wind.

The two hunting dogs behind them, Azure Dragon and Black Dragon, were also moving with lightning speed.

Especially the black dragon, its lean and slender body moved like a fish in water on the hard snow crust, its black fur clinging to its streamlined muscles, running silently, with only its cold eyes staring intently ahead.

The thirty-mile mountain road passed in the blink of an eye as we sped along.

Ahead, the terrain suddenly changed.

The once gently undulating mountain ridge seemed to have been cleaved in two by a god's axe, and a huge black cliff, shaped like an eagle's beak, abruptly pierced the sky, ferocious and oppressive.

Below the rocky cliff lies a centuries-old red pine forest that blocks out the sky.

Entering this forest felt like stepping into an ice cellar.

The sunlight was blocked by the dense canopy of trees, and the temperature dropped several degrees instantly.

The light was dim, and there was an eerie, deathly silence; not even the chirping of birds could be heard.

This is Eagle's Beak Cliff.

The "Devil's Bane" as described by old hunters.

"Shh-"

Zhao Shanhe suddenly braked to the side, his skis cutting a deep white mark across the snow before coming to a steady stop.

The atmosphere is off.

The usually arrogant Azure Dragon didn't bark wildly here.

It lowered its body, growling softly from its throat, and the mane on its back stood on end, as if it were wary of something.

The black dragon's reaction was even more direct. It stared intently at a sheltered hill to its left, its nose twitching wildly, its eyes revealing a bloodthirsty excitement and vigilance.

Something's up.

Zhao Shanhe took off his skis and then reached behind him to retrieve the double-barreled shotgun.

Instead of walking over casually, he moved like a cat, using the tree trunks as cover, and silently crept behind the mound.

There was a patch of snow that had been disturbed, and although it had been deliberately covered with fresh snow, it did not escape the eyes of the old hunter.

Zhao Shanhe squatted down, took off his gloves, and gently brushed away the surface layer of snow.

What was exposed below was a pile of damp, cold ashes.

Zhao Shanhe rubbed the ash between his fingers, and his pupils suddenly contracted.

This stove was dug with great care.

The pit was deep, with a side vent, and flat stones on top to disperse the smoke.

After the fire was extinguished, even the unburnt charcoal embers were carefully picked out and disposed of.

Smokeless stove.

In these deep mountains and forests, a normal hunter would want the fire to burn as brightly as possible, so that he could both keep warm and drive away wild animals.

Only one type of person would bother digging such a stove—a "vagrant," or a fugitive wanted for murder.

They were like rats in the gutter, afraid of smoke, afraid of light, afraid of being discovered in the slightest.

Zhao Shanhe narrowed his eyes, his gaze instantly turning cold, and a layer of sweat seeped from his palms.

Something dirty has gotten into this forest.

"Click."

With extremely gentle movements, he opened the breech, ejected the shotgun shells that were originally loaded inside, and replaced them with two bright yellow slugs.

These bullets can blow the skull off a wild boar, and when they hit a person... they just leave a transparent hole the size of a bowl.

"Black Dragon, sneak over there."

Zhao Shanhe made a hand gesture.

One man and two dogs, using the shadows of the thick tree trunks, crept like ghosts into the depths of the forest.

……

The further you go in, the dimmer the light becomes, and the stronger the sense of oppression.

Under an old red pine tree that was as thick as three people could hug, Zhao Shanhe suddenly stopped.

He saw a person through a gap in the bushes.

He was a young man.

He looked to be in his early twenties, with a fair and clean face, and even wore an inappropriate pair of black-rimmed glasses.

He was wrapped in an ill-fitting military overcoat, huddled like a frightened quail in a sheltered spot under the roots of a tree.

He gripped a sharp boning knife tightly in his hand, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.

But he was shaking all over.

The trembling wasn't from the cold, but from fear.

His eyes were bloodshot, he looked around nervously, muttered to himself, and occasionally grabbed snowflakes from the ground and stuffed them into his mouth, looking as if he had suffered a mental breakdown.

Zhao Shanhe hid in the shadows and observed for a full five minutes.

This is just a fledgling.

The way he held the knife was wrong, his sitting position was wrong, and his vigilance was extremely poor; he didn't even notice someone approaching from dozens of meters away.

"call……"

Zhao Shanhe let out a sigh of relief, his tense nerves relaxing slightly.

Since he's just a timid child, things will be easier.

Make a strong first move to intimidate him, then investigate his background.

Zhao Shanhe suddenly leaped out from behind the tree, the dark muzzle of his gun pointed directly at the young man. He gathered his strength and roared:

"What are you doing?!"

That shout was like a thunderclap in the dead silence of the forest!

"ah--!!!"

The young man was so frightened that he jumped up from the ground as if he had been electrocuted.

But his legs had already gone weak and he couldn't stand up at all. He had only gotten halfway up when he collapsed heavily back onto the snow.

With a clang, the boning knife in my hand fell to the ground.

Immediately afterwards, a foul stench filled the air—his crotch was instantly soaked, he had been so frightened by the shout that he peed himself!

"No...don't kill me...don't kill me!!"

The young man clutched his head, screaming hysterically, tears and snot streaming down his face, curling up into a ball and trembling.

Zhao Shanhe did not lower his guard because of the other party's show of weakness.

He stopped five meters away from the other person—the optimal firing range for a shotgun, and also a safe distance.

"Shut up!" Zhao Shanhe shouted sharply, the muzzle of his gun firmly pointed at the other man's chest, his eyes like knives.

"Put your hands on your head! Kneel properly!"

The young man was startled by the menacing aura. He frantically raised his hands above his head, knelt on the snow, and trembled like a leaf.

"Are you alone?" Zhao Shanhe squinted, his gaze quickly sweeping over the surrounding bushes, but he didn't rush forward.

"Yes...it's just me...Uncle, have mercy, it's just me..." the young man cried out, his voice cracking.

"Bullshit!" Zhao Shanhe coldly interrupted him, raising the muzzle of his gun slightly.

"Did you dig up the smokeless stove outside?"

Upon hearing the words "smokeless stove," the young man visibly paused, his eyes filled with confusion and fear, as if he couldn't understand the technical jargon Zhao Shanhe was using. He simply nodded and shook his head instinctively.

"The stove...it's me...no, I just wanted to start a fire...I'm so cold..."

Zhao Shanhe's doubts deepened.

Judging from this kid's reaction, he doesn't even know what a "smokeless stove" is, and looking at his fair and delicate hands, he doesn't seem like someone who can dig such a professional stove pit at all.

"What did you do?"

Zhao Shanhe continued his interrogation, his tone growing even colder: "Murder? Or arson? Why are you hiding in this godforsaken place?"

"I...I didn't...I'm not..."

The young man seemed to have been hit where it hurt, and his spirit completely collapsed.

He began to wail incoherently, collapsing to the ground like a lump of mud: "I didn't want to kill him... he forced me to... I want to go home... I want to find my mom..."

Seeing the boy's devastated state, Zhao Shanhe frowned.

He seems to be a hothead who committed a crime in the heat of passion and fled, scared out of his wits, and not much of a threat.

wrong.

Zhao Shanhe's gaze was like a hook, fixed on the young man's hands that were bracing themselves on the snow.

Although they were red from the cold and covered in mud, these hands had long, slender fingers with full fingertips and no calluses at the knuckles.

Compared to veteran hunters who spend years wielding guns and digging, even compared to Ergaizi, who does farm work in the village, these hands are as tender as a woman's.

Zhao Shanhe's heart skipped a beat.

How could a useless guy who doesn't even know how to make a smokeless stove, whose hands are as soft as tofu, and who wets his pants when he's yelled at, possibly dig such a professional and hidden stove pit in a dangerous place like Eagle's Beak Cliff?

The stove pit and even the gas vent were disguised, and even the leftover charcoal was carefully processed.

That's a skill that only seasoned veterans who've spent decades honing their craft in the mountains possess!

If he didn't dig it, then where did the person who dug the stove go?

There's still one person here!

The moment that thought flashed through his mind, a chill instantly pierced Zhao Shanhe's scalp.

There was no thought involved; it was purely instinct from having lived two lives.

Zhao Shanhe suddenly rolled to the left!

Whoosh-!

Doo!!

A very faint, yet chilling, muffled sound.

A jet-black steel crossbow bolt, only half a foot long, ripped through the air in an instant, carrying a chilling wind of death.

The crossbow bolt was so fast that it almost flew past the afterimage left by Zhao Shanhe as he rolled.

It didn't land; instead, it was deeply and firmly embedded in the frozen ground in front of that young man!

The arrow sank three-tenths of an inch into the ground, its fletching vibrating violently and emitting a buzzing sound.

If Zhao Shanhe hadn't dodged, that arrow would have pierced his head by now.