Chapter Twenty-Five: Gathering Spring Herbs

Winter faded into spring, the weather gradually warming, and the mountain stronghold—after a season of lifeless silence—slowly returned to vitality.

During winter, heavy snow sealed off the mountains; not only did traveling merchants vanish, but even a living soul was rare. All through those cold months, the land belonged to the icy winds. It was said that at the far end of the Qilian Mountains stretched the boundless Monster Forest. Each year, when winter famine struck, wild beasts and monsters would pour out of the forest, scouring the Qilian range in search of anything edible.

Thus, throughout the winter, unless absolutely necessary, few dared venture outdoors; even the mountain bandits laid low, bringing rare tranquility to the region beneath the sky’s canopy.

With the arrival of spring, the earth’s energy surged anew, and the creatures of the Monster Forest withdrew into their depths, returning the Qilian Mountains to their customary bustle.

Though most of the monstrous beasts retreated, they left behind a teeming mass of wild animals, reigniting the cycle of life upon the land. Wild beasts hunted humans to fill their bellies, and humans in turn hunted beasts to survive—a never-changing theme that played out year after year among the mountain ridges, with the bandits being no exception.

They called this tradition “Spring Grass Hunt.” For as long as Hu San could remember, the Spring Grass Hunt was the grand event of the year; the bounty of each hunt often determined the fortunes of the mountain folk for the months ahead.

For the bandits, the stakes might not be as dire, but the hunt was their rare chance to enjoy abundant meat.

Once spring passed, the new generation of wild animals grew cunning. To hunt them then would be costly and dangerous. When autumn ended and winter returned, the most seasoned and powerful beasts followed the monsters back into the forest, leaving a fresh crop of animals to repeat the cycle.

It almost seemed as if the unknown entities within the Monster Forest intentionally used humans to temper their beasts.

Survival of the fittest—only the strongest remained. Whether this was simply nature’s way or the design of enigmatic beings, no one could truly say.

Regardless, this tradition had endured countless years, and by all appearances, it would continue—perhaps forever.

As the Spring Grass Hunt began in the stronghold, the Third Chieftain, perhaps pleased with the newcomers’ performance or intent on further tempering the strongest among them, soon nominated elite novices to join the hunting squads after several rounds of the hunt.

Besides gaining battle experience, they would also be rewarded with meat according to their merits.

After a long winter, the stronghold’s food stores were nearly exhausted. Even Hu San’s group, leading the way as the ninth team, could only count on being fed their fill—others fared worse.

This opportunity spurred everyone to action. The Third Chieftain, seemingly intent on recruiting more elite talent, selected additional members from each group to join the hunters.

Hu San had just cultivated his inner breath and was troubled by the insufficiency of the warm current within him; he leapt at the chance.

With the strength of four grown men, even when fully fed, ordinary grains provided little warmth, but beast meat was another matter.

Seeing progress in his inner breath, Hu San was eager to master the first level at once; the promise of feasting on meat drove him forward without hesitation.

Unlike other novices, Hu San’s past feats had earned him great renown in the stronghold. Many hunting teams sought him out, but burdened by numerous secrets, he chose to work alone to avoid exposure.

With the strength of four men, his uncanny fish-step, and his mastery of the flat-blade technique, Hu San’s solitary efforts yielded no less than any hunting squad’s.

Yet the amount of food he brought back was modest—his appetite was enormous, and much of his catch quickly vanished into his own stomach. As soon as the warm current arose, he would circulate his inner breath to absorb it, relentlessly strengthening his cultivation. Thus, the energy was consumed at a rate many times faster than before.

Even when the warmth faded and his stomach was not empty, Hu San pressed on, forcing more food down to hasten his progress, despite the pain.

Yet the results were remarkable.

Ten days after the hunt began, the true energy within Hu San had coalesced into a clear strand, no longer faint and elusive but as manifest as a silver thread.

Perhaps it was the effect of the meat, or the support of his inner breath. In any case, his body grew stronger during this period. Though the rate of increase no longer matched the initial surge, he surpassed the strength of four men, taking another step forward.

Having tasted the rewards, Hu San put aside his physical discomfort and began hunting even more aggressively.

Within days, the wild animals near the stronghold could no longer satisfy him. The relentless hunting by the bandit squads and himself had thinned their numbers so greatly that it took ages to find a single beast. A boon to others, it was a hindrance to Hu San, who desperately needed beast meat.

With this in mind, Hu San gradually expanded his hunting grounds, venturing farther from Wolf Fang Stronghold.

There, wild animals were plentiful, and his strength grew at an astonishing pace.

One day, Hu San tracked a wind bear deep into unknown woods. After half an hour of fierce pursuit, he finally brought the beast down.

He was roasting the bear over a fire in a forest clearing, carving chunks of meat with his long blade and devouring them before the fat could run off, when suddenly a sharp crack of breaking branches sounded from the woods nearby.

“Who’s there?”

Hu San’s eyes narrowed. He sprang to his feet, long blade in hand, slipping behind a thicket and fixing his gaze on the source of the noise.

Alone in these perilous mountains, Hu San’s vigilance was acute—otherwise, he’d long since have ended up in some beast’s belly.

Through countless hunts, he’d killed not only wild animals but humans as well; likewise, both beasts and men had tried to kill him.

In this world, if you didn’t know each other, there was no hesitation about drawing blades or guns.

Having survived several close calls, Hu San always set up warning devices when he stopped—like the dry branches he’d scattered, taken from the upper parts of a tall tree, spread evenly around his resting spot. No beast or human, unless they could move like a ghost, would escape his notice.

As he watched intently, a group of men approached stealthily from the slope opposite, led by a man in white.

One of them had just snapped a branch underfoot, a wry smile on his face.

“Interesting.”

Glancing at the evenly spread branches on the ground, the man in white waved his hand and commanded, “Ahead lies the territory of Wolf Fang Stronghold. That must be one of their men. Our mission requires secrecy—he cannot be allowed to return alive. Brothers, with me!”

At his order, the group no longer concealed themselves, drawing their weapons: long blades, spears, swords, flails, tridents, and more.

The man in white wielded an iron ruler, two feet wide and thick, carved with a roaring white bear painted vividly, as if it might leap from the metal at any moment—a most impressive sight.

No longer hiding, the men fanned out and charged toward Hu San, the sound of snapping branches like a barrage of firecrackers, their clamor a psychological assault.

“Sounds like quite a number,” Hu San thought, cocking an ear. Instead of retreating, he slipped quietly to the side.

Since the Spring Grass Hunt began, whether facing packs of beasts or bands of bandits, Hu San had never backed down. In his eyes, his fish-step, bird-strike, and flat-blade technique all needed tempering in real combat—what better opportunity than this?

Licking his lips, Hu San circled swiftly, flanking his pursuers.

“They look like bandits—skilled ones. I wonder if there are any martial artists among them.”

Hunkered in a large thicket, Hu San watched as several sturdy men rushed closer, weapons in hand, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

As one of them parted the bushes to pass through, Hu San seized the gap, tensed his legs, and shot out like an arrow, his long blade spinning.

A flash of cold steel—a perfect arc—sliced straight across the man’s throat. The burly fellow didn’t even have time to cry out before his head came off under Hu San’s mighty blow.

“Old Hong? You alright?” another called, catching a glimpse of white in the corner of his eye. Seeing his comrade sprawled on the ground, he assumed he’d tripped, but before he could react, a figure darted out of the brush. In a blink, Hu San was at his side.

Panicked, the red-haired bandit chopped downward with his long blade and leapt back, but before he could follow through, a gleam of silver flashed from Hu San’s hand.

There was a snap—his blade was knocked aside, and, as his pupils dilated in terror, a white blur grew ever brighter until all consciousness was lost.

“Over here! The thief’s here!” someone shouted.

Having slain two, Hu San was finally spotted by a third. No longer hiding, he reversed his grip on the long blade, feet dancing in the fish-step, darting across jagged rocks through the tall grass toward the alarm-raiser.

The balding bandit, knowing he was outmatched, nonetheless held his standard blade ready and hacked at Hu San with all his might.

Such bandits Hu San had only seen during the Third Chieftain’s great battle with the Tianya stronghold—stalwarts of the bandit ranks. To meet so many here was a surprise.

“What are they after?” the thought flashed through Hu San’s mind as he collided with the bald bandit.

A nimble step—a dodge past the attack—Hu San’s form swept by, and as the bandit’s technique faltered and left his chest exposed, Hu San dragged his blade in a flat arc, executing the “drag” maneuver of his flat-blade art, slicing savagely across the man’s neck.

A crimson line arced through the air; the bandit staggered, toppling to the ground, legs twitching as his throat was cut—plainly doomed.

The clamor nearby grew, warning Hu San that reinforcements would arrive soon. He dropped low and slipped into the tall grass, ambushing four more of the elite in the surrounding woods.

At last, his presence was discovered by the enemy’s experts.