Chapter 2: The Boy and the Simp

Page 1 of 3

Chapter 2: The Boy and the Lickspittle

The cold wind cut like a knife, and snow swept across ten thousand miles.

Upon the pure-white wilderness, two inconspicuous specks moved slowly onward. Even the howling wind and driving snow could not halt their progress.

Gradually, the snowfall began to lessen.

It became possible to make out that the two specks were a person and a dog.

The figure in front was a boy. His youthful face carried a maturity at odds with his age. He wore clothing made from gray fur to ward off the cold, and on his back were a pack and a hunting rifle.

Following behind was a black hunting dog with a patch of white fur on its forehead. Its thick coat kept the bitter wind from penetrating, while its powerful limbs and massive jaws, armed with astonishing bite force, gave it enough strength to rival a wild beast.

After who knew how long, the boy and the dog came to a stop.

“We’re here.”

A gentle smile appeared on the boy’s face as he gazed happily ahead.

There, covered in white snow, stood a solitary gravestone.

When he reached it, the boy skillfully cleared away the accumulated snow. The words carved into the stone were revealed:

“A Hunter.”

He took sacrificial offerings from his pack and arranged them before the grave. At last, he calmly knelt down.

The black hound imitated him, sitting beside him with its head lowered.

“Master, I’ve come.”

The boy brought out a bottle of highly distilled liquor and poured the clear drink into two porcelain cups before him. At the same time, he murmured, “By my reckoning, it’s been fifteen years since I came to this world, and three years since you left it.”

That’s right. The boy was Jiang Ren.

And the gravestone before him belonged to the old hunter who had once saved him and taken him in.

Because old injuries from his youth had flared up again, the hunter had been bedridden for five years before leaving this world three years ago.

The old hunter had not been an entirely good man, but neither could he be called bad. He simply had his own private motives. For instance, although he had adopted Jiang Ren, the relationship between them had never been that of father and son, but of master and disciple.

He had hoped that Jiang Ren would inherit his abilities and become a hunter.

In his previous life, Jiang Ren had believed that status and fame would earn him higher regard, and so he had never seriously studied under the old hunter. This had left the old man dispirited and caused him to depart this world earlier than he otherwise might have.

In this life, once Jiang Ren revealed his yearning for the hunt, the old hunter had been genuinely delighted—and had lived somewhat longer than before.

“Master, have a drink.”

Jiang Ren lifted one of the porcelain cups and poured its contents onto the ground before the grave.

Page 2 of 3

He then raised the other cup and drained it in a single gulp. The burning sensation in his throat made him cough several times, and two faint flushes appeared on his cheeks.

As he gazed at the crude gravestone, it seemed there were a thousand things in his heart, yet he could not bring himself to say a single word.

One cup followed another.

Only when not a drop remained in the bottle did Jiang Ren rise to his feet.

The wind and snow continued to rage around them.

In this region near the edge of the national border, there was not a soul for hundreds of miles in any direction around the grave.

The old hunter had been buried here because it had been his final request.

He had mocked himself for spending his whole life struggling against nature and wild beasts. He had possessed neither friends nor family. Only in his later years, after Jiang Ren appeared, had another color entered his life.

Apart from hoping that someone would inherit his profession, all he had wished for was to be buried after death in this land that had witnessed most of his life.

“Master, school is on winter break. I plan to stay here for two weeks. When I leave, I’ll come visit you again.”

Jiang Ren shook the snow from his clothes, chose a direction, and set off. Then he waved and called, “Whitey!”

At the sound of his voice, the black hound sprang up, shook the snow from its coat, and hurried after Jiang Ren.

Whitey was an excellent hunting dog. Its father had been descended from several generations of hounds trained by the old hunter and possessed outstanding hunting skills.

Although Whitey was black from head to tail, a patch of white fur the size of a marble marked its forehead, earning it its name.

The gale faded, and the snow ceased.

Jiang Ren’s field of vision rapidly expanded. Looking out over the snow-covered earth, he stopped and silently removed the old hunting rifle from his back.

He inspected it carefully.

After confirming that everything was in order, Jiang Ren raised the rifle and gave Whitey a meaningful glance.

“Whether we eat grass or meat for dinner today depends on you, Whitey.”

Whitey nodded excitedly, then lowered its head and began searching for the scent of animals.

Jiang Ren followed behind at an unhurried pace.

Yet unlike his placid expression, his gaze remained fixed on the distance.

Partly to stay alert, and partly to search for traces of prey.

Having hunted alone since the age of ten, he knew very well that even with Whitey’s excellent sense of smell, finding prey in this frozen wilderness was no easy task.

Besides ability, luck might matter even more.

Jiang Ren was not in a hurry. Although he had yet to master much of the hunting knowledge the old hunter had taught him, when it came to one of the essential qualities of a hunter—patience—he was no worse than anyone else.

Whitey seemed to have discovered something and suddenly pounced at a mound of snow.

Swish!

Page 3 of 3

A snow-white animal burst from beneath the mound, evaded Whitey’s flying leap, and raced toward the woods not far away.

It was a rabbit.

Whitey was fast, but the snow hindered it, and the rabbit was experienced. With several sudden turns and abrupt stops, it managed to leave Whitey empty-jawed.

As a hunter, Jiang Ren naturally had no intention of standing by and watching.

He had raised his rifle long before and taken aim at the rabbit, but he had not fired.

The rabbit once again dodged Whitey’s leap. With only a few yards left before it reached the dense woods, it sprang into the air.

At that instant, Jiang Ren pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The gunshot rang out, shaking snow from several trees at the forest’s edge.

A bloom of blood appeared on the rabbit. The moment it collapsed, Whitey pounced upon it, clamped its jaws around the animal’s throat, and carried it back to Jiang Ren’s feet.

Whitey sat before him with its tongue lolling out, tail wagging from side to side like a child waiting for praise.

“Good work. I’ll give you a rabbit leg with dinner.”

Jiang Ren patted Whitey’s head, then turned his attention to the rabbit.

The rabbit had not been killed by the rifle, but by Whitey’s bite.

The bullet had struck its left hind leg. Jiang Ren had clearly been aiming for its body, but hitting the leg was still a stroke of luck.

Otherwise, once the rabbit entered the woods, with all their obstacles, it might truly have escaped.

“My marksmanship still needs work.”

Jiang Ren shook his head. His shooting was indeed mediocre.

He took a storage bag from his pack, placed the rabbit inside, and added several handfuls of snow to conceal the smell of blood.

There were no large predators nearby, but necessary precautions were still essential. One careless moment born of arrogance could cost him his life.

“No wonder it managed to dodge Whitey so many times. At this weight, tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast are both taken care of.”

Jiang Ren lifted the bag with satisfaction, then looked up at the sky.

“It’ll be dark soon. Since we’ve got food, we might as well head to the shelter early.”

There was a wooden cabin nearby that the old hunter had built more than a decade earlier. Jiang Ren had reinforced it the previous year and stocked it with plenty of supplies. Whenever he had a long holiday, he would spend some time there. It could be called a perfect wilderness shelter.

Just as he was about to call Whitey, he suddenly sensed that something was wrong.

Danger!

At that moment, the fur on Whitey’s body stood on end. It lowered itself slightly, eyes fixed intently on the woods ahead and to the side, while a threatening growl rumbled from its throat.

End of Chapter