Chapter Sixteen: Bald Heads and the Clueless

A few days later, Xu Wenshan slipped a thumb ring onto his right hand, gripped a bow and arrow in his left, and dressed Lu Ze as a young servant before heading into the mountains.

Luhe Ravine was encircled by mountains on all sides. The southern range, in particular, was a natural hunting ground, teeming with birds and beasts. Nearly every hunter in Luhe Ravine plied their trade in those southern woods.

It was there that Xu Wenshan set his sights.

The mountain air buzzed with insects; withered grass scraped at the ankles, lifeless vines hung down in twisted tangles, wild hares darted through the underbrush, and strange birds wailed mournfully. While rabbits were plentiful, Xu Wenshan dismissed them—too little meat for his trouble, and with only a handful of arrows, he was loath to waste them.

After a short trek through the forest, Xu Wenshan spotted a formidable creature: a massive elk, its hide dark and glossy, antlers rising like twin peaks, grazing in the distance and lifting its head now and then to survey its surroundings.

He crouched low at once. At this distance, even a well-placed shot from his bow would not be fatal. Moving slowly and silently, he crept closer, closing the gap between himself and the elk.

Unaware it had become prey, the elk nevertheless seemed to sense the looming threat. It suddenly straightened, alert, nostrils twitching as if it had caught some unfamiliar scent. Any closer and he risked being discovered. Though it was not the perfect range, it might be his only chance. Xu Wenshan drew an arrow, nocked it, and fixed his gaze upon the elk.

Just as he was about to draw and release, an arrow whistled from another corner of the woods, speeding toward the elk’s head. At that very instant, the elk dipped its head; the arrow struck its antlers and clattered harmlessly to the ground.

Startled, the elk bolted, disappearing in a flash. Had that arrow found its mark, it might still have been possible to give chase, but now there was no hope of catching up. Xu Wenshan rose, resigned, and noticed another figure standing not far away.

The man, recognizing Xu Wenshan, called out in surprise: “Well, if it isn’t the young master of the Xu family! What brings you here?”

Xu Wenshan knew this man too: Li Sixi, a renowned hunter of Luhe Ravine. Beside him, another youth of similar age—his son, Li Dazhuang—stood up as well.

It was said that every time Li Sixi entered the mountains, he returned with a bounty. The villagers called him the foremost hunter of Luhe Ravine. Yet for all his skill, Li Sixi was a modest man, never boasting of his prowess, sometimes even sharing his catch with families in need.

Li Sixi, with Dazhuang in tow, made his way toward Xu Wenshan and repeated his question, “Young master, what are you doing here?” Without waiting for a reply, he smacked Dazhuang lightly on the back of the head. “Come on, greet the young master.”

Dazhuang bowed awkwardly. Xu Wenshan waved it off, raised his bow, and said, “Seems we had our eyes on the same prey.”

Li Sixi frowned, unconvinced that Xu Wenshan had truly come to hunt. To his mind, the scion of a landowning family couldn’t possibly understand the hardships of poor folk. Slouching through the woods with a fancy bow and a pretty servant in tow—surely it was all just for sport. How could a young master like him comprehend what it meant to stake your life for a meal?

He decided, in his heart, that Xu Wenshan could not know the true toil of hunting.

As someone who relied on the hunt to feed his family, Li Sixi held the craft in high regard, almost reverence. He had little patience for what he saw as a mockery of the hunt. His words were tinged with irritation as he said, “It’s not safe here. You don’t look built for this—better head back and rest.”

Li Sixi’s tone was sharp.

Dazhuang, well aware of his father’s temperament, glanced nervously between Xu Wenshan and the elder Li. His father respected only those with greater skill at the bow; even if you were the landlord himself, you’d get no praise from Li Sixi without merit. That stubborn pride had won him few friends. Dazhuang, unsure how to break the awkward silence, shuffled his feet.

Xu Wenshan, oblivious to the undercurrents, simply replied, “I’m not tired—I just came out to learn the art of hunting. I’ve long heard you’re the finest hunter in Luhe Ravine. Might I follow and observe your legendary skills?”

Flattered by the compliment, Li Sixi’s demeanor softened. “You can watch, sure, but I won’t have time to look after you. Mind your own safety.”

And so Xu Wenshan quietly trailed behind the hunter and his son, bow in hand.

Dazhuang glanced back; Xu Wenshan smiled at him, and Dazhuang pulled a face before hurrying after his father.

It soon became clear that Li Sixi was indeed skilled. The next quarry appeared before long—a wild boar.

Li Sixi glanced back at Xu Wenshan and saw he was already at the ready, bow drawn. With a snort of derision, he turned to Dazhuang. “Watch carefully, son. Hunting isn’t as simple as it looks. It’s not enough to just hit the mark. Take this boar—vicious and unpredictable. Even if you strike it, it might charge you. You have to stay on your guard.”

Dazhuang nodded, half-understanding. Li Sixi turned again to Xu Wenshan. “Young master Xu, best keep your distance. Don’t act rashly, or you’ll ruin my hunt. If I bring it down, I’ll spare you some offal.”

Xu Wenshan replied lightly, “I’ll just stand here and watch you work your magic.”

Li Sixi scowled. “I won’t be able to look out for you. If you get hurt, you’ll have to find your own way back.”

“No need to trouble yourself,” Xu Wenshan replied.

Li Sixi drew his bow with practiced ease, movements steady and swift—a picture of seasoned experience.

To Xu Wenshan, however, it was astonishing, but not for the right reasons.

Li Sixi wasn’t too skilled—he was too unskilled!

Xu Wenshan had long suspected the hunters of Luhe Ravine lacked true technique, but witnessing it firsthand left him speechless.

Li Sixi’s posture and release were all wrong. He pinched the end of the arrow between his thumb and forefinger, then simply let go, sending the arrow flying. Xu Wenshan remembered using this very method his first time in the archery club, only to be sternly corrected by an upperclassman.

This so-called "pinch release," while workable, had too many flaws. You had to shoot immediately, or your fingers would grow numb and sore.

In fact, all the hunters in Luhe Ravine used the pinch release or some variation of it. It was a novice’s instinctive reaction upon picking up a bow.

But it was hardly surprising—the hunters of Luhe Ravine had spent a lifetime living off the bow, yet had never stumbled upon the correct archery techniques. The village was too isolated; hunters rarely exchanged knowledge, each guarding his tricks as family secrets.

In such an environment, even five hundred years might not be enough to spark the flame of progress.