Having made up his mind, Chen Lei began tidying the scene. In his enthusiasm to secure the pheasant, he had driven the arrow too forcefully, snapping the shaft against the tree trunk. "Secondhand arrows are unreliable indeed!" He shook his head, salvaged the arrowhead, and carried his quarry down the mountain.
After a full day of hunting, his stomach growled with hunger, yet his spirits remained remarkably high, his senses alert to every rustle around him. This must be the effect of [Mental Clarity],he mused. I ought to spend evenings reading more, not just indulging in pleasures with Qinglian.Archery, hunting, scholarship—I shall be a man of diligence.
The day was still young when he passed through Yanbian Village. Villagers, spotting him with a pheasant in one hand and a rabbit in the other, hailed him with a mix of admiration and envy. "You've got guts, lad!" "Little Stone's a marvel—scoring daily hauls since taking up the bow!" "Hmph, like father like son, I suppose." "Shut your trap, Baldy! Jealousy doesn't suit you." "Jealous? This haul won't even cover the tax!" "True enough."
Talk of taxes ignited a chorus of grievances. Years of savings, squeezed dry by levies.
"Brother Lei, wait! I've been looking for you!"
"Shunzi?" Chen Lei turned as the lanky, sun-bronzed youth sprinted toward him. "What's wrong?"
"Brother, need help?" News of the accelerated tax deadline had spread fast; Zhang Shun had rushed over after selling his fish.
"You… weren't you planning to join a martial arts school?" Chen Lei hesitated. Seven days to gather three taels—no one could be certain. Borrowing the sum now would ease the pressure, repayable with interest later.
"Martial arts can wait. The tax can't." Shunzi scratched his head, guileless. "Come home with me. We have silver."
Three taels—a fortune for common folk. Chen Lei's heart warmed. "Nine out, thirteen in—I can't take it free."
"Brother, don't say that." Shunzi's voice softened. "You taught me to read as a boy. Remember when we fell into the river? If not for you, I'd have drowned. Why mention it?"
Such loyalty in hard times was rare. "Wait here. I'll fetch it!" Shunzi darted off without letting him refuse.
Chen Lei, unwilling to accept charity, picked up the pheasant and rabbit as a gift and followed. Their homes were close; ten minutes later, they stood before Shunzi's door, ajar. Before entering, a gust of wind carried heated words.
"Shunzi, three taels? Are you mad?"
"Mother, that's Brother Shi! He saved my life!"
"Saved you? We repaid that debt—remember when he fell ill? We paid his doctor's bill!"
"Mother…"
"We've slaved for years to save for your martial arts tuition. To become a master! Have pity on your father—he's limped for months without treatment. You'd give three taels to a stranger?"
Silence. Chen Lei stopped, gently set down the pheasant, and turned away. Help was kindness; refusal, fairness. He felt no resentment—only gratitude for Shunzi's intent. Times were hard for all. I must rely on myself.
His resolve to venture into the Second Ridge hardened.
Before dusk, he reached Treasure Hall Tavern. The rabbit, similar in weight to the last, fetched seventy-one coppers. Instead of heading home, he went to the market to prepare for the Second Ridge.
"Well, if it isn't Little Stone!" Old Xu greeted him warmly.
"Uncle Xu, I'd like to buy arrows." His willow-leaf arrows sufficed for rabbits and pheasants, but large, tough prey demanded more.
"What kind? I've plenty here." The stall displayed seven or eight arrow types, high-quality, some clearly military-grade. Fifty lifrom Poyang County lay a garrison; military gear in the market was unsurprising. Old Xu, a retired soldier whose son now served as a junior banner captain, often dealt in such goods.
Chen Lei scanned the arrows. Most shafts were poplar, fletched with bird feathers—differences lay in the heads. Piercing, wounding, anti-cavalry, aquatic, signal whistlers… varieties abounded. He settled on a peculiar head: the Wolf Fang Arrow.
As its name implied, the arrowhead bore two wings with three hooks, resembling protruding wolf fangs. Once embedded, the barbs would tear flesh if pulled, or grind tissue if left—deadly to beast or man.
"This Wolf Fang Arrow's premium," Old Xu said. "Twenty-three coppers for others, twenty for you."
"Any discount?"
"Lower and I lose money."
Chen Lei bit the bullet and bought five. Sharpening the axe doesn't delay the woodcutting.He longed for a heavy bow—arrow lethality depended on draw weight. Glancing at the stall's heaviest bow, a mere four-strength, he sighed. Heavy bows pierced armor; evidently, even black-market dealers had limits.
Paying ninety coppers (eleven deducted for salvaged arrowheads), he pocketed the arrows. A day's earnings, gone.
On his way home, Qi Xiong and his thugs blocked his path, leering. A deliberate threat. They won't leave me be.He ignored them, walking straight ahead.
"Sir, he's arrogant!" one thug sneered. "Should I beat him?"
"Beat him?" Qi Xiong pointed at Chen Lei's bow. "Know what that is? A four-strength bow—could pin you through. He handles it. Think you can take him?" Qi Xiong frowned. Rumors said Chen Lei scored daily hauls—no mere scholar. Village hunters were no pushovers. Still, strength meant nothing without silver. Two days hence, if Chen Lei failed to gather three taels, Qi Xiong would have him cornered.
...
Late at night, Chen Lei slipped from bed. Qinglian slept, exhausted. I've been reckless,he chided himself. Reading time lost—archery cannot wait.Before entering the Second Ridge, he must advance his skill.
Taking his bow, he practiced under the moon in the woods behind his home. Each willow-leaf arrow loosed pushed his progress higher. Dawn found him asleep for mere hours before rising to shoot again.
Swish—An arrow felled a sparrow mid-forage. Simultaneously, the panel shifted:
[Skill: Archery (Proficient)]
[Progress: (0/500)]
[Effect: Enhanced physique, innate archer's gift; effortlessly draw stone bows, infallible within seventy paces, three shots in a snap.]
In that instant, his strength, archery, even muscles and bones transformed. His constitution surged—without formal training, he now drew a one-strength bow (≈150 jin) with ease, hitting palm-sized targets at eighty meters. A palm target at eighty meters was but a speck.
Three shots in a snap: Buddhist texts defined a "snap" as ~7 seconds; three shots in that span meant drawing, nocking, aiming, and releasing with lethal precision in ~2 seconds. A one-strength bow, eighty meters, two seconds—terrifying combined.
Chen Lei marveled. Progress enhanced not just skill, but physique. His bones grew dense, limbs elongated. Will this help with martial arts later?Confidence swelled—six days to bag large prey seemed possible.
"Brother Lei, breakfast."
The soft voice startled him. He ate hurriedly, packed remaining salted duck eggs and half a bag of millet.
"What's this for?" Qinglian asked, puzzled. Millet was inedible raw.
"A gift." Chen Lei replied tersely, heading out.
"Be careful," Qinglian urged, worry etched on her face. "Yesterday, I saw Qi Xiong lurking nearby. I'm scared…"
"I know." His tone firm. "Rest easy, wife. He can't harm you."
Wife?Heat rose to Qinglian's cheeks. Hearing those words, fear melted away.