The Fur Trader

In an instant, a vast wealth of archery experience surged into his mind.

Chu Ning seemed to see himself drawing bows and loosing arrows thousands upon thousands of times, his fingers rubbed raw by bowstrings until flesh and blood blurred together, enduring wind and sun as he trained without cease.

In the wilderness, amid wind and snow, beneath the blazing sun, he adjusted his breathing again and again, overcoming the trembling in his arms time after time.

He saw himself standing at the edge of a cliff, facing raging wind and rain as an arrow pierced a dead tree a hundred meters away. He also saw himself amid a charging herd of beasts, steady as a rock, hitting every target without fail!

His consciousness returned. He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as an eagle's.

Chu Ning drew a deep breath and raised his head toward the targets. His palm slowly stroked the bow, feeling that long-lost yet incomparably familiar power.

The wind rose, whipping and roaring.

He bent the bow and nocked an arrow, his expression calm as still water, his movements smooth and precise.

The arrow rested on the string, its momentum like a swimming dragon!

The next instant, the bowstring trembled, and the sudden sound of something tearing through the wind rang out.

Whoosh!

The arrow shot past like a bolt of lightning, striking the bull's-eye dead center.

"This is true archery!"

The morning mist had yet to disperse, but Chu Ning was already entering the mountains, treading on dew.

The chill in the forest pierced to the bone, yet he wore only a thin cloth shirt. A faint stony radiance glimmered across his back.

After his Rough Stone Hardening Technique had reached minor mastery, ordinary cold could no longer invade his body.

He reached behind himself and removed the longbow, his fingertips brushing over its body. The bow was pitch-black from end to end, its string fine as silver thread. His father had bought it from a blacksmith's shop in the county while he was still alive, and it had a draw weight of three hundred jin. Yet in Chu Ning's hands, it felt as light as nothing.

After advancing his archery, Chu Ning's senses had grown increasingly keen as well. He closed his eyes and focused, and the sounds of the wind by his ears suddenly became clear: the rustle of dead leaves landing, the faint tremor of a mountain sparrow's wings, even the delicate sound of a snow fox licking its paw a hundred paces away.

He abruptly opened his eyes, lightning flashing in his pupils.

Nock the arrow, draw the bow!

"Whoosh—"

The arrow tore through the air, pierced three layers of brush, and precisely nailed the snow fox through the throat. The beast did not even have time to whimper before collapsing limply to the ground, its pure-white fur untouched by a single drop of blood.

"The seventh one." Chu Ning lowered his bow and walked over, lifting the snow fox by the scruff of its neck. Its fur felt warm and smooth as jade, precisely the prized treasure most loved by high officials and wealthy nobles in the depths of winter.

"Now I can hire a physician to treat Big Sis, and even repair the house."

The corners of his lips lifted slightly as he stuffed the catch into a burlap sack. The sack was already swollen to bursting. Besides the snow fox, it held two sables and three fire fox pelts, all killed with a single arrow through the throat.

"Zhao's in the southern part of the city? That old coffin stuffing cheats every unfamiliar face!"

The tavern worker's jeering words from yesterday, when he had sold the wild boar, floated up in his mind. Chu Ning sneered and entered the eastern market with the sack over his shoulder. Unlike the western market's lavish taverns, this place had vendors hawking their wares in hoarse voices like broken gongs along stone roads awash with sewage.

Laborers in coarse, short garments and old women with baskets of wilted vegetables—the many faces of humanity had all been bent beneath the weight of the age.

A beggar crouched at the base of a wall, gnawing on a bran cake. When he saw an armed Martial Artist pass by, he hurriedly drew himself into a trembling ball.

Without so much as a sidelong glance, Chu Ning walked straight toward the fur shop at the very back.

The shopkeeper was a gaunt old man. He was squinting as he fiddled with his abacus when he saw Chu Ning set down the sack. He lazily lifted his eyelids. "Rabbit pelts, three copper coins apiece. Pheasant—"

His voice abruptly cut off.

The sack tipped over, and snow foxes and sables rolled onto the counter, their fur glowing faintly in the dim light. The old man's throat bobbed. His withered hand trembled as it touched the arrow hole in the snow fox's neck, and he cried out, "A single arrow through the throat? This, this technique—"

"Name your price." Chu Ning stood with his arms folded, the corner of his eye sweeping toward the door. Several armed Martial Artists were riding through the market, their horses' hooves splashing mud all over an old woman selling vegetables.

The old man swallowed, greed flashing across his eyes before vanishing. "A snow fox pelt, five taels. A sable, four taels. A fire fox—"

"Farewell." Chu Ning sneered and bent down to gather the pelts.

The old man hurriedly grabbed his sleeve, only to have his wrist bone locked from the reverse grip. He shrieked in pain.

"The market price is ten taels for a snow fox and eight for a sable." Chu Ning flung his hand away and hoisted the sack onto his shoulder. "Even Zhao's Fur Shop in the southern district isn't as shameless as you."

The old man's face flushed red, and he was just about to argue when a chuckle came from behind him. "Young man, you've got quite a temper."

In the shadow of the threshold, a man in brocade robes leaned against the doorframe. He ground a jade thumb ring with his thumb, the calluses at the base of his hand etched as sharply as knives. At a glance, he was clearly an expert accustomed to wielding blades.

Chu Ning retreated half a step, his knuckles quietly pressing against the short blade at his waist.

The brocade-robed man strolled forward, his thumb ring brushing over the snow fox's arrow hole. "Skinning a beast alive is work for a true expert. Your arrow lodged three inches into the bone, severing the tendons without damaging the pelt." He suddenly moved close, the calluses on his hand grazing the back of Chu Ning's hand. "A hand like yours can't stay hidden in Qingyang County. Kid, you've taken a life before, haven't you?"

Chu Ning shook off the old man's hand and slung the sack over his shoulder. "Who are you? Buying fur, or buying lives?"

"My humble surname is Shen. My given name is Yan." The man cupped his hands and smiled. "I do a bit of business in furs, and occasionally help nobles find rare treasures." He suddenly lowered his voice. "For example... an Azure-Eyed Snow Fox."

Chu Ning's heart jolted.

The Azure-Eyed Snow Fox was a Spiritual Beast from legend. Its eyes could be used in medicine to prolong life, and its fur was impervious to water and fire. Three months ago, the provincial government had offered a thousand taels of gold for one, drawing countless Martial Artists into the mountains to search, yet not a single person had succeeded.

"The one you hunted today is merely an ordinary specimen, but that archery of yours..." Shen Yan's gaze burned brightly. "It is worth taking a gamble on."

Shen Yan threw back his head and laughed, then shook a bag of silver ingots from his sleeve. "Ten taels for a snow fox, eight for a sable! If you are willing to supply top-grade goods every month, I'll double the price!" He tossed out a contract. Beside the official seal, a private mark bearing the character "Wang" was unmistakably stamped.

Chu Ning's pupils contracted sharply.

The Wang family—the creditors who had hounded his former body's father to death, an entrenched clan with tangled roots throughout the county.

He clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking explosively. The ferocious laughter of the scar-faced man seemed to ring in his ears once more: "Four taels of silver? Your sister's selling price isn't worth that much..."

Chu Ning picked up the contract and examined it carefully. The terms were clear, without the slightest trap.

He pondered for a moment. Hunting was currently his main source of income, and a stable buyer offering a high price would clearly allow him to gain greater profits.

The autumn wind swept dead leaves into the shop. The snow fox fur in the sack trembled faintly, as if urging him to make a decision. Shen Yan was in no hurry either. He poured himself a cup of cold tea, the hand holding it steady as a rock.

"Payment in full, in silver. No credit, no debts." Chu Ning pressed his seal onto the contract. The bag of silver sank heavily into his hand like a lump of iron.

Shen Yan clapped his hands. "Now that's refreshing!"

The old man had long since collapsed onto the floor, drenched in cold sweat.

Chu Ning glanced over the money bag and suddenly sneered. "Boss Shen, aren't you afraid of losing everything?"

"The greater the risk, the greater the profit." Shen Yan stroked his thumb ring, his smile deepening. "There are traces of an Azure-Eyed Snow Fox in the northern mountains three days from now. Young hero, if you're interested..."

"Not interested." Chu Ning turned and vanished into the crowd.

He was not entirely unmoved by Shen Yan's lead about the Azure-Eyed Snow Fox. It was simply that the glaring mark of the Wang family's private seal made him instinctively wary. When plotting with a tiger, one had to hide one's throat first.

Shen Yan's smile was like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, and Chu Ning tightened his grip on the money bag. In this world, where was there kindness without reason? But for now, he needed silver—and he needed a blade even more.

Chu Ning gripped the bow tightly. Blood churned in his throat, yet in the end, he lowered his head and hurried onward.

The Wang family's debt had been settled for the moment, but a Ranked Martial Artist was still a sword hanging above his head. Once he repaid the price of advancing Hundred Steps Penetrating Willow, he would advance a blade technique next.