Chapter 17 - Chapter 17: The Boar's Trail and the Risky Decision

About ten days have passed since Gù Ti?nháo entered the Black Mist Forest. He had become an efficient shadow, moving with a cautious confidence that had been born of necessity. His body was thinner, but stronger, covered with small scratches and insect bites that were the price of survival, but his eyes shone with a warning intensity that the ancient Ti?nháo had never possessed. He had consolidated his Level 2 Body Refinement and felt that the wild energy of the forest, combined with his relentless training, was slowly pushing him towards the peak of that realm. He ventured a little deeper each day, always mentally mapping his way back, looking for rarer herbs or slightly stronger spirit beasts that could provide better quality nuclei. The 100-year-old Ginseng remained his main goal, but he knew that finding him would be a matter of luck and persistent exploitation. It was during one of these explorations, while following the trail of a Green Horned Deer (a Level 2 beast known for its agility and occasionally eating spiritual herbs), that he found the first disturbing signs. The trail of the deer led him to an area where the undergrowth was completely destroyed, as if a ram had passed through. Small trees were broken or torn from the root, and the ground was revolted with huge footprints, much larger than those of any beast he had encountered until then. The footprints were deep, indicating an immense weight, and were the distinct shape of clenched hulls. Later, he saw the marks. Thick tree trunks like a man's waist were marked with deep, parallel grooves, as if they had been scratched by something incredibly strong and sharp. They were huge and brutal marks of prey. Ti?nháo felt a shiver running down his spine. He abandoned the trail of the deer immediately, his caution increasing tenfold. He recognized the signs, both from the information of the bestiaries he had read and from the tales whispered by hunters in the market. Those were the unmistakable marks of an Iron Skin Boar. He squatted, examining the footprints and marks carefully. The mud on the edges of the footprints was still moist, and the sap that flowed from the scratched trees had not yet completely hardened. The beast had passed by recently, perhaps in the last hours. I boared Iron Skin. One of the most feared beasts on the edges of the Black Mist Forest. He was not the fastest or the smartest, but his strength was legendary, and his skin, as the name suggested, was almost impenetrable to ordinary weapons or attacks by low-level growers. The bestiaries estimated that an adult was at the peak of the low level of power of the spiritual beasts, which placed him at a level of strength comparable to a human cultivator in the early stage of the 3rd Level of Body Refinement. Ti?nháo was only in the middle of Level 2. The difference of an entire kingdom, especially in Body Refinement, was vast. Facing the boar head-on would be suicide. His first instinct was to retreat, bypass the area and avoid the territory of the beast at all costs. It was the logical choice, the safe choice. But then he hesitated. An Iron Skin Boar... The beast core of a creature of this level would be much more valuable than the Level 1 cores it had been collecting. It could be exchanged for a significant amount of money, perhaps enough to buy some of the cheapest ingredients in the Meridian Opening Pill. The tusks were valuable materials for artisans, and the sturdy leather could be transformed into rudimentary but effective armor. And there was the experience. Fighting the Shadow Cat and the other smaller beasts had honed his skills, but he knew he still lacked the experience of truly challenging combat, a fight where he had to use everything he had to survive. Examination of the sect would certainly include combat tests, and facing an opponent as formidable as the boar would be the best possible preparation - if he survived. The risk was immense. Death was the most likely outcome. But the reward... the reward could accelerate your progress exponentially. He stood there, crouched in the destroyed vegetation for a long time, weighing the options. Prudence cried out for him to flee. But ambition, the desperate need to get stronger, to seize the opportunity of the extra four months, to finally leave behind the ghost of the "garbage" Gù Ti?nháo, whispered something else. He remembered the pain of his training, the humiliation at the hands of his brothers, the cold indifference of his father. He remembered the feeling of power as he broke to Level 2, the dark satisfaction of killing the Shadowed Cat. He had not come to the Black Fog Forest to hide or just survive. He had come to fight, to grow, to take what he needed. A dangerous light came on in his eyes. The decision was made. He would not back down. He would hunt the Iron Skin Boar. But he wasn't stupid. I knew I couldn't win in a direct confrontation. I needed a plan, an advantage. He needed to turn the brute force of the boar against himself. With renewed and extreme caution, he began to follow the trail of the beast. I was no longer hunting, I was watching, studying. He moved slowly, using every shade, every tree, every gust of wind to mask his presence. He wanted to understand the territory of the boar, its patterns of movement, its places of rest and feeding. For two days, he followed the trail. He watched in the distance as the boar - a mountain of bristled muscles and thick leather, with curved, yellowish tusks that could easily rip a man apart - scoured the forest for roots and fungi, cutting down small trees with impatient onslaughts. He saw him bathe in mud puddles, covering his already resistant skin with an additional layer of protection. He mentally mapped the territory of the boar, noting areas with particularly rugged terrain, narrow ravines, or densely clustered trees where the maneuverability of the beast would be limited. He looked for signs of a burrow or regular resting place. During his observation, he also began to prepare the battlefield. In an area that the boar seemed to frequent - a muddy clearing near a small stream - he began to discreetly dig a deep moat, carefully camouflaging it with branches and leaves. In another area, a narrow passage between two rock formations, he prepared ties with the strongest hemp rope he had, hoping to trap the boar's legs, even if only for a moment. They were rudimentary preparations, traps that a smarter beast could easily detect. But the Iron Skin Boar trusted in his strength and defense, not in his cunning. Tiannháo expected the arrogance of the beast to be his ruin. As he prepared, he also prepared mentally and physically. He practiced the Nine Cycles to keep his body at its peak and ensure that his meridians were as unobstructed as possible. He sharpened his hunting knife until the blade shone coldly even in the dim light of the forest. Did he mentally review every detail he knew about boar anatomy, looking for potential weaknesses - the eyes, the throat under the massive jaw, maybe the joints of the legs? The fear was still there, a cold knot in his stomach. But he was overwhelmed by an icy determination and intense concentration. He had chosen his path. Now, it was time to face the beast.