Stepping out of the gray rock forest again, the data visualization showed it was already 9:00 AM. There's no more time to waste; I haven't yet collected the ingredients promised to Sangji for the "Live Fish Potion."
The "Live Fish Potion" is the signature bestseller of the "White Stone Potion Shop."
However, this potion isn't for treating people; it's used to improve the survival rate of silver-scaled fish upon arrival at port. When fishermen catch silver-scaled fish, adding the potion to the water tanks can significantly improve the survival rate of this valuable yet delicate fish.
Many nobles and big merchants come seeking the silver-scaled fish, a precious specialty of the Leopold Sea Region.
The "Live Fish Potion," which can bring more profit to fishermen, naturally became high-demand and short of supply.
This was Grandpa Leo's original invention after studying local demands. While it holds certain value for a seaside town with a population of less than twenty thousand, it's not enough to cause envy and trouble.
Looking back from a transmigrator's perspective today, one can't help but admire the old butler's sharp insight and clever methods. If not for this respectable elder, the ten-year-old aristocratic young master wouldn't know if he could survive until today.
Pushing these thoughts back into my mind, Aiven resumed his proper work.
...
By noon, thanks to his predecessor's familiarity with the forest, Aiven had completed all his gathering tasks and was sitting on a large rock, leisurely enjoying his lunch.
A big chunk of barley bread, some dried fish, and a piece of smoked sausage paired with spring water from his water pouch—a simple treat in his past life but a rarity for people in this era.
During this time, Aiven made new discoveries about his "Golden Fingernail." The data visualization's recognition ability was exceptionally strong, marking herbs even glimpsed from the corner of his eye, greatly enhancing his herb-gathering efficiency.
After lunch, seeing that it was still early, Aiven decided to venture deeper into the forest to see if he could catch some prey and enrich his menu.
Because while gathering herbs earlier, Aiven found marks left by other hunters on a tree. This mark indicates finding prey beyond one's capability, requiring companions for a group hunt.
The hunters around here are mostly acquaintances, eliminating concerns of attracting malicious people.
With nothing else to do, Aiven tapped his waist-long sword, deciding to follow the trail and see if he could lend a hand.
He had confidence in his combat skills; after all, his predecessor was a nobility's child. The swordsmanship training since age eight wasn't just for show; no hunter around Leopold City could match him in single combat.
If he could reach the level of his swordsmanship enlightenment teacher, Grandpa Leo, becoming an Official Knight and stepping into the ranks of the Extraordinary, Aiven believed this forest would hold no threats for him.
Following the marks left by the hunter ahead, Aiven moved swiftly through the forest like an agile monkey. He didn't anticipate any surprises on this trip, rather being late and missing out on any spoils would be more disappointing.
Despite being only thirteen, years of sword practice had made Aiven have broad shoulders and a strong build, coupled with his agile movements, the complex forest terrain posed no problem, at least not in the areas close to the city where there weren't many top predators that could threaten him.
Perhaps lunch took too much time, as Aiven had been tracking in the forest for two hours without sight of the hunters ahead.
If not for the trail wandering around the forest edge with another footprint joining in, Aiven would have turned back for hunting without hesitation.
"The mark is Gleam and his hunting dog. Is this guy hunting today?"
From the marks left by latecomers, Aiven identified his friend Gleam. He couldn't just leave. Gleam is one of the best hunters around, but the mark indicated an assembly of companions; Aiven guessed they encountered something big that two experienced hunters couldn't handle.
In such unexpected hunting actions, experienced hunters assess the strength comparison with prey, calling companions like a wolf pack. They hunt only after gathering enough hunters.
If they fail to gather enough companions, they abandon the hunt regardless of the prey's value. The hunters here possess enough wisdom to restrain their greed.
Experienced old hunters know the survival of hunters relies not on sharp claws but on moderation.
Complaining about the highly agile unknown prey while continuing to track it, until the forest was a bit dim with the visualization showing it was 4:00 PM, Aiven finally caught up with the trail.
But at first glance, Aiven knew something was wrong!
There was a pool of blood on the ground, still fresh—even though Aiven wasn't a professional hunter, he could distinguish between human blood and animal blood. It was unknown whether it was left by Gleam or another hunter, but judging by the amount of blood, neither would survive.
Aiven's face turned a bit grim. In coastal cities, the price of mountain game far exceeds seafood, and forests in this slightly magical world aren't places ordinary people can visit. Every hunter active in the mountains over the years has some skills.
For a hunter who had considerable experience to have no resistance and die on the spot, it must be something more than common beasts.
Without hesitation, he reactivated the data visualization. Its powerful recognition promptly marked all visible objects. Filtering out irrelevant information, two humans' chaotic footprints appeared on the ground, with a streak of blood stretching into the distance becoming conspicuous under the data visualization's indication.
Strangely, apart from an extra dog's footprint, there were no traces of the attacker left on the ground.
Things were becoming complicated.
Narrowing his eyes, Aiven weighed his options internally. Having watched countless suspenseful dramas, he knew that the most terrifying thing in the world isn't floods or beasts but... the unknown!
Yet, considering the track records suggest the surviving hunter was already following. Judging by the hunting dog's actions, it was probably its owner Gleam who chose to continue tracking despite one fallen member. The only reason was he believed the danger was still manageable, intending to retrieve his companion's body.
Clenching his teeth, Aiven stepped toward the direction where the blood trail vanished.
...
"Damn beast, stop! Leave Hank for me!"
A young hunter in his twenties, wielding a bow, dashed frantically within the complex forest terrain. Although seething with rage, it didn't affect his agile movements, the twisted roots exposed on the ground, slippery moss, and winding streams posed no hurdles.
Yet despite such agility, he was unable to close the widening gap with the figure darting atop the treetops.
"Whizz!" A feathered arrow struck a tree trunk, the giant black feline holding a slender man in its mouth had already leaped onto another massive tree.
The black feline, ignoring the human below, swiftly moved through the treetops with its trophy, soon vanishing into the deepening darkness of the forest.
"Ah—!!! Damn it!"
Grieving over the loss of a companion, the hunter gradually calmed down, knowing that alone, he had no hope of retrieving his fellow hunter.
Now, all he can hope for is that the leopard-like feline's food reserves are still enough so that when he returns leading a larger group, something might still remain.
Kicking the hunting dog still furiously barking above, Gleam turned back hoping to leave the forest before the sun sets.
"Phew!"
Just as he turned, a vile wind descended from above—this cunning predator never left!
Having stashed its food, it returned, launching a fierce attack at the moment Gleam let his guard down.