Fang Yuan held his breath, his sharp gaze sweeping over the terrain around the boar herd as his mind raced. A head-on fight was the worst possible choice; he had to outwit them.
He noticed a relatively narrow pass beside the area the boars often rooted through,
with naturally formed earthen slopes and piles of loose rocks on either side, leaving only a single animal trail through the middle.
Not far beyond the pass, the ground dropped sharply into a steep slope, its base littered with broken dead branches and sharp rocks.
A rough plan swiftly took shape in his mind.
He retreated with extreme slowness, only quickening his pace once he had completely left the boars' range of perception, running toward a resilient grove of purple bamboo along the way he had come.
The Purple Sable on his shoulder seemed to understand what he intended to do. It gave two excited squeaks, its little eyes sparkling as it watched with rapt attention.
Fang Yuan drew his Chopping knife, selected several purple bamboo stalks of moderate thickness and excellent springiness, and neatly chopped them down.
He found some tough old vines as well, then began using the terrain and those materials to set up tripwires and simple pressure-triggered snares.
He was exceptionally focused, striving to make every knot secure and every bit of camouflage look natural.
[Basic Trapping Technique proficiency +1]
Just as Fang Yuan carefully secured the last camouflaged vine rope beneath a rock that appeared naturally loose,
the scattered bits of knowledge in his mind about trap-making—how to use the environment, calculate force, gauge the behavior of beasts, and conceal killing intent—
suddenly connected like a hundred rivers flowing into the sea, condensing into a deeper, more systematic understanding.
It was no longer simple imitation,