"Hey, you hunter, you're not allowed to enter the mountain here. There's no game you're looking for in these hills."
When Wang Wu was carrying his bow and arrow, holding a spear, and climbing up the small hill on the side of Snow Wolf Valley just like a typical hunter, he heard a rough voice from under a big tree.
Hey, it's Little Wild Boar—no, it's now Uncle Pig, Old Pig.
This old fella, at this moment with an eight-month pregnant belly, turned into a rough, clumsy man, lying down in the shade of a tree, with a roast chicken in his left hand and spirits in his right. If his hair wasn't half gray, one might think he was a heroic figure who sees through worldly affairs.
"Brother, don't joke around. I come here often. Don't tell me there are bandits or a mountain king now?" Wang Wu deliberately teased him.
"Pah! You wretch, so much nonsense. Beat it! Didn't you see I'm a demon? Keep talking and I'll bite off your head as a snack!" Old Pig was very irritable.
