Sold immediately after wearing it? I took my family and fled the famine.

There was still about half an hour until dawn, and the sky was not yet fully light. The fire at the cave entrance had already burned down to a pile of warm white ash.

Jiang Xing opened his eyes without disturbing anyone and tucked the dagger behind his waist.

Ma Dadan was already waiting at the cave entrance, his broadsword hanging at his waist and a blade of grass dangling from his mouth. When he saw Jiang Xing come out, he spat the grass on the ground and whispered, "Let's go."

The two walked one after the other through the morning mist toward the South Mountain. The mountain path was wet from the dew of the previous night, and the withered leaves made no sound when stepped on. The air was filled with the scent of pine needles and damp earth.

About the time it takes for an incense stick to burn after they left, a dozen or so people quietly got up from inside the cave.

A man with a gap in his teeth carried a hoe on his shoulder and quietly led a few people from his group out of the cave.

The two walked quickly and arrived at the dense forest where the trap had been set the day before in less than half an hour. The sky was a little brighter than before. Jiang Xing walked in front, walked around the bushes, and suddenly slowed down and then stopped.

The first pit collapsed, and the withered leaves and loose soil on the surface sank in, revealing the dark pit opening below. Two of the three sharpened wooden stakes at the bottom of the pit were broken, with jagged edges, as if they had been forcibly snapped off by brute force.

The soil at the bottom of the pit was turned upside down, and dark red bloodstains, already dried, were splattered on the pit walls and the surrounding withered leaves.

There were obvious scratch marks on the edge of the pit, with several deep claw marks extending from the bottom to the edge. The soil had been turned upside down, and there were congealed blood clots on the gravel around the pit.

Jiang Xing squatted down and pressed his finger on the claw marks on the edge of the pit. The soil was wet, but there were no signs of rain washing it away, indicating that these marks were left in the latter half of the night.

She looked again at the unbroken wooden stake at the bottom of the pit, with a torn piece of flesh hanging from its tip, covered with coarse, grayish-black bristles.

"I've fallen into a trap. I shouldn't have gone far." She stood up and walked forward along the messy drag marks on the ground.

The drag marks were wide, and the dead leaves along the way were scattered and messed up. A few strands of grayish-black hairs hung on the branches of the bushes next to them, and some branches were broken off directly, revealing the white wood.

Blood dripped intermittently onto the withered leaves and soil, its color varying unevenly from dark red to bright red; the fresher the blood, the brighter the color.

"That beast got up and ran away." Ma Dadan followed behind her, his broadsword already drawn, tip pointing down, his eyes fixed on the bloodstains on the ground: "Judging by the amount of blood, he's badly injured, he can't have gone far."

"Hmm." Jiang Xing followed the trail of blood into the depths of the dense forest, his steps slow but steady, his eyes fixed on the front.

The two followed the bloodstains for about two or three hundred steps. The bloodstains were intermittent, and in some places they were blocked by bushes that wild boars had brushed against. They had to judge the direction by the broken branches and the position of the bristles.

Ma Dadan became increasingly alarmed as he walked. How could such an injured beast still run so far? Wild boars were incredibly resilient.

The trail of blood turned behind a large blue stone and then stopped.

A wild boar lay on a pile of dead leaves under a bluestone, its body tilted to the side, its belly pressed against the ground, its mouth slightly open, its tusks covered with mud and dried blood.

A hole was pierced through its left foreleg by a wooden stake, and blood was still seeping from the wound on its abdomen. A large patch of withered leaves beneath it was soaked in blood.

The wild boar's eyes were half-open, its pupils dilated, but it was still panting, its rough breathing coming from deep in its throat, heavy and labored like a bellows.

Ma Dadan gripped his broadsword tightly and took a step forward: "He's still alive. I'll finish him off."

"Wait..." Jiang Xing had barely finished speaking when Ma Dadan had already walked up to the wild boar with his knife.

He raised his broadsword, aiming it at the wild boar's neck, just as he was about to strike, the beast, which looked to be on its last breath, suddenly sprang up, its hind hooves slamming into the ground, its entire body springing up like a slingshot, its front hooves slamming into Ma Dadan's chest.

Ma Dadan let out a muffled groan and flew backward.

The broadsword slipped from his hand, spun twice in the air, and stuck into the mud a few steps away, its blade humming and vibrating.

Ma Dadan's back slammed into the branch of a crooked pine tree, and he was stuck between the branches, his legs dangling in mid-air, belly up, his hands unconsciously grabbing at the air, like a turtle that had been flipped over.

A sharp pain shot through his abdomen, and he gritted his teeth, gasping for breath. The scars on his face turned white from the pain.

Jiang Xing was speechless. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.

She was about to suggest waiting a moment, because the most dangerous moment for a wounded wild boar is this final pounce; animals wounded like this are often the most reckless.

As a result, she was a beat too slow to speak, and Ma Dadan was already hanging from the tree.