After keeping a portion of the leopard meat for themselves, White exchanged the rest at the local general store for enough food to last a week. When he arrived at the woman's home carrying a sack of flour, he found the house empty. Frowning, he said nothing and distributed the flour among the others.
"You still took that step after all." With those words, White uncorked a bottle of whiskey—also bartered for with leopard meat. The intact leopard pelt had fetched the most: enough to acquire a box of shotgun shells, fifty rounds in all. Yet, before long, that fine pelt would surely become the coat of some affluent noblewoman.
The goods at the store were supplied by the Galactic Alliance, offering everything from daily necessities to a variety of firearms. In this age, lacking a gun capable of slaying beasts was as terrifying as facing the dark without a single light.
As White passed the store again, he caught sight of Xiaofeng leaning over the counter, his eyes fixed intently on the array of weapons displayed along the wall—especially the sniper rifles.
"How much is that sniper rifle?" Xiaofeng asked.
"Hah! Do you even have the money for it?" the shopkeeper chuckled.
Xiaofeng shook his head regretfully.
"Come back when you do, then! That one's not cheap."
White cast a glance at the shopkeeper. "We'll be rich soon enough." He slung an arm around Xiaofeng's shoulders. "Come on, kid. Let's go eat."
"I really like that rifle," Xiaofeng murmured.
"I know. But you're still a child—such a weapon's not for you yet."
"I'm no child," Xiaofeng protested. "I'm a man. I can handle it. How much does it cost?"
"Two thousand Alliance credits. And it's not even new—it's secondhand," the shopkeeper replied.
"How much can we get for a single leopard?" Xiaofeng asked, undeterred.
"Maybe a hundred credits at best."
"Then it's simple. We just need to hunt twenty leopards, and that rifle's ours."
White gazed into the boy's earnest eyes and sighed. "Yes... But I don't know when we'll manage to hunt down twenty of them."
"Soon," Xiaofeng said with conviction, clenching his fist over his chest. "Trust me."
"But I still need to save for Alice's treatment."
Xiaofeng's expression froze. After a pause, he muttered, "Then let's take care of Alice first."
White looked at the thoughtful boy, his heart quietly moved once more.
Back home, Xiaofeng prepared a hearty dinner. White drank half a bottle of whiskey in high spirits before collapsing into bed.
The bed was small, so Xiaofeng wrapped himself in a musty thick blanket and settled onto the sofa.
Since taking in the two fawns, Xiaofeng's days had gained some purpose. He would roam the town or the wilderness in search of fresh grass to feed them. In the monotony of their life, this had become something genuinely meaningful.
Time passed quickly. Over the next dozen days, he and White occasionally visited Alice in secret. Each time Xiaofeng saw her smile, he felt as if she were his own sister. He longed to live alongside this lovely girl and to protect her with White by his side.
White eventually learned the woman's whereabouts. Yet, he spoke no ill of her—survival in this world trumped all else. In the face of death, any action could be forgiven.
Xiaofeng had asked several times why White and Lisa had separated, but White never answered. Xiaofeng didn't press—the past was a wound that bled when touched.
Reality, however, has a way of throwing the unexpected in one's path. One day, after returning from a hunt, White headed straight to the store with the game. Xiaofeng, concerned for the fawns, ran home.
But when he arrived, the cage stood empty.
Seeing the absence of the fawns, fury consumed him. He kicked the cage with all his might, crumpling it beneath his foot, and shouted, "Who stole my fawns? D*mn it, I'll kill them!"
Breathing hard, wild with rage, he struck out blindly.
Then, amidst his storm of emotion, White's words surfaced—Use your head. Always use your head.
Xiaofeng shut his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. Slowly, his breathing steadied—and then, through his nose, he caught the faint scent of the fawns.
Eyes narrowing with a sudden, deadly clarity, Xiaofeng drew the knife from his belt—the one White had given him—and began to follow the scent trail.
His sense of smell was extraordinary. It had helped him track prey countless times over the past few weeks.
He ran, nose to the wind, through the refuge. The townspeople watched the lean youth with puzzled expressions as he sprinted past.
Soon, he stopped before a dilapidated house. The scent ended here—but in its place came the stench of blood.
Xiaofeng began to tremble, not with fear, but with a fury so fierce it shook his very bones. He kicked the door—it shattered with a crash.
Inside, Nochuan was washing two scrawny fawn carcasses. Their blood-streaked hides lay discarded nearby.
Glancing up, Nochuan roared, "You little brat! You kicked my door down? Want another beating, huh?" He grabbed a knife and charged.
Xiaofeng's heart ached as if pierced by blades. With a shout, he hurled himself forward, knife gripped tight.
Nochuan smirked, confident this weakling would fall like before. He aimed a kick—but Xiaofeng dodged, then drove his knife into Nochuan's abdomen.
Shhhk.
Nochuan froze, eyes wide. He gurgled.
"Grrkkk…"
Before Nochuan could react, Xiaofeng withdrew the blade and slashed it across his throat.
Shhhk.
A crimson spray erupted. Xiaofeng stood tall behind his foe as Nochuan stumbled, clutching his neck, and fell twitching to the ground.
Within a minute, he lay still.
Blood still poured from his ruined throat.
Xiaofeng stared down, breathing heavily, frowning deeply. Though he had slain beasts, this was the first time he had killed a man.
He grabbed a filthy shirt from the old couch, wiped the blood from his blade, and left in a daze.
Minutes later, someone found the body.
Yet, instead of outrage, the townspeople quietly celebrated the death of the loathsome Nochuan. The Alliance soldiers performed a cursory investigation and dropped the matter.
"Xiaofeng, time to go!" White called again, days later. This had become a ritual—hunting together each morning.
Their hunts had been fruitful, and White's savings were growing.
Over the past ten days, Xiaofeng had learned much and matured rapidly. He was no longer the boy who had first arrived at Refuge 64. He had become a true hunter.
He could now defeat a mutated rat on his own.
Dressed in his newly made calfskin jacket—crafted from a wild ox they had encountered and felled five days ago—Xiaofeng answered, "Coming!"
He had emerged from his grief over the fawns.
White had even purchased a revolver for him—a cheap one, but a gun nonetheless. Though they were saving for Alice, White had decided Xiaofeng's safety came first. He'd also bought him a machete.
Xiaofeng secured the house and followed White out beyond the boundary.
As usual, they delved into the forest, slicing down mutated rodents and savage rabbits. Xiaofeng took the lead in tracking—now second nature.
White leaned against a tree, lighting a cigarette and basking in the winter sun.
"Uncle White, I saw members of the Viper Squad. They entered the forest," Xiaofeng reported moments later.
"What? They're supposed to hunt on the plains. What are they doing here?"
"Maybe there's not enough prey left out there. They're probably trying their luck in the forest," Xiaofeng replied warily.
White nodded. "That must be it. Let's steer clear of them."
"Understood."
They headed north, careful not to stray too deep into the woods. Legends spoke of F-class beasts lurking within, impervious to ordinary bullets. Only a sniper rifle could pierce their hide—White's shotgun would be useless.
Not long after, several mercenaries from the Viper Squad appeared at the spot White had just vacated. Cook, clutching his heavy machine gun, glanced at the cigarette ash on the ground.
"White was just here. If we follow him, we'll find something today."
"Isn't that shameful?" muttered Brann, his assault rifle in hand.
"What choice do we have? It's been three days without a single catch. If this continues, we'll disband!"
"Do you think White would hand over his kill?"
"If he can't carry it all back, I'm sure he'll spare us one or two."
At that moment, a woman stepped forward, her voice stern. "I don't care how you do it. Bring back a kill today—or my brother will lose his temper."
This was Ivy, sister to the Viper Squad's captain. In contrast to her dark, muscular brother, Ivy was fair-skinned, strikingly beautiful. Her large, deep blue eyes gleamed with a mesmerizing intensity.
She wore a loose camo outfit, but it couldn't hide her voluptuous figure. The top was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a black sports bra and the deep cleft of her chest. Wild, dangerous beauty radiated from her.
Brann, after sneaking a glance at her curves, gripped his rifle and followed Cook toward the forest's northern edge.
They stumbled through the woods for half an hour with no sign of White.
Unbeknownst to them, a massive black figure was silently approaching through the undergrowth, barely thirty meters away.
Brann halted first. He turned his head and saw it.
Raising a hand, he signaled: "Stop. Prey in sight. Prepare to engage."