The Boy Chasing Otters

The wind whistled through the wheat fields and the wilderness, and fallen leaves drifted down from the trees in the mountains.

Mick ran desperately through the withered leaves and gravel. With his sword in one hand, he kept his eyes locked on the figure darting through the brush, maneuvering to cut off its path and drive it in a specific direction.

Almost there, almost there, just a little more.

He chanted in his heart, then leaped again, kicking off a tree trunk and sending dust raining down as he lunged toward the running figure.

His longsword hacked through the obstacles in his path, allowing his gaze to pierce through the bushes and thick leaves to see the creature's true form.

This was an otter that had come ashore. It was the size of a small calf, its fur black and sleek, allowing it to slide through thorns and shrubs without losing any speed.

Compared to an ordinary beast, its size was clearly abnormal, and its speed and strength were not to be underestimated; its sharp claws could easily split small trees and carve a path through the brush.

This beast was only a hair's breadth away from advancing to a First-Rank creature. Its strength was beyond what an ordinary adventurer could handle, so Mick could only continue to harass and drive it.

"Aaaah—!"

He let out a loud shout and swung his blade toward the otter. Before he even touched it, the creature was startled and forced to change direction, fleeing toward the right.

"Jero! It's coming your way!"

Seeing the direction the otter was fleeing, Mick shouted and continued the chase.

A few seconds later, the otter burst out of the woods, only to be met by a large net standing in its path.

The otter rolled into the net, struggling and tearing as it tried to push forward, until the rope mesh wrapped around its entire body and it finally crashed to the ground.

Seeing it begin to claw and struggle, several adventurers who had been lying in ambush rushed over. With a flurry of hammer blows and spear thrusts, the otter was dead in moments.

"Phew, finally finished off the last one." One adventurer wiped the mud and blood from his face.

"This one was too cunning. We poisoned the water earlier, and it fled immediately."

"We've been chasing it for nearly a week; we only just caught it today."

"This one is the biggest. If it had another year or two, it might have become a First-Rank Fang Beast."

"If it really were a Fang Beast, these traps wouldn't hold it. We'd have to hire professional hunters to deal with it."

"Jero is coming."

The man carrying the greatsword walked out of the woods. It was his presence in the rear that had forced the otter to run blindly into their trap.

"Is it done?" he asked casually, walking over to the dead otter to inspect it.

"Not bad. The quality of this one's fur is quite high; it should fetch a good price."

"Twenty-three otters in total. Two silver coins bounty each, making forty-six silver. But this one is special; the fur alone should bring in another twenty to thirty silver."

"As for costs, the Alchemist Guild charged three silver for the poison, five for the ropes and nets, and two for food and lodging for the villagers over the last few days. We should clear about fifty to sixty silver this time," a member of the team skilled in calculation quickly analyzed.

"We've got money again. I haven't even finished spending the last batch."

"That doesn't sound like you, ha-ha!" The group laughed, their high spirits evident.

"Let's go. Drag this otter to the village and have the butcher and the villagers process it. We'll have some good meat to eat tonight."

"Let's move!"

The group began to stir.

While the others were busy, Jero walked over to Mick and patted him on the shoulder with a large hand.

"You did well today."

"Thank you, Jero." The boy replied excitedly.

"Heh, you've got talent, kid," Jero said with a grin.

"Alright, we're going to make a good profit this time. Any plans on how you're going to spend your share?"

"I want to buy some better gear, like a chainmail shirt or a better weapon."

"No, no. With your build, wearing chainmail is a waste of stamina, and it'll kill that agility of yours," Jero said, shaking his head with the wisdom of experience.

"As for weapons, just make do for now. Good weapons are heartbreakingly expensive to repair." He pulled Mick down to sit.

"Actually, the best thing for you right now is to find a good mentor and learn something." He laid his greatsword across his knees and wiped it with a rag he carried.

"Learn what? Advanced swordsmanship or combat techniques?" Mick asked expectantly.

"Ha-ha-ha, those too, but have you ever thought about learning to read and write? If you have some literacy, combined with your decent skills, it'd be easy to find a job in Scorched Stone City."

"You mean like those guards or the merchant guild escorts?" Mick curled his lip in disdain.

"Those guys move like stiff old ladies, and their lives are incredibly boring."

"I'm going to be someone amazing in the future, like a legendary adventurer or something."

"Those things..." Jero seemed to recall something, then lowered his head and shook it slightly.

"Having ambition is good, but you need the strength to back it up." He stood up and held his sword upright.

"You're still far off. Come on, let's spar." He set his greatsword aside and picked up a wooden stick.

"You got it!"

Mick jumped down from the rock he had been squatting on, gripped the hilt of his sword, and charged forward to challenge him.

Before long, the crisp sound of clashing weapons rang through the forest as the two traded blows back and forth.

It was clear that Jero was intentionally holding back; otherwise, a single forceful strike from him, even with a wooden stick, would have sent Mick flying and left him severely injured.

Minutes later, Mick was exhausted, his body steaming with sweat and his face flushed bright red.

"Stop." Jero swiped away Mick's attack and drove his wooden stick into the ground.

"Don't use your Breathing Technique for the rest of the day."

"Yes, Big Brother."

"Let's go. We're heading back to the village to enjoy tonight's victory feast."

"Right, heh heh."

With that, Mick picked up his sword with sore, trembling arms and hurried to catch up.

After a night of revelry, they returned to Scorched Stone City the next day with proof of their successful hunt.

"Verification complete. Congratulations to the Mountain Beast Adventurer Team for successfully completing another bounty mission." Mailin finished filling out the form and had someone bring out a bag of silver coins.

After distributing the coins to each team member, Jero took one, flicked it into the air with his finger, caught it, and placed it on the table.

"Beautiful lady, I'd like to inquire about some information." He pushed the silver coin toward her.

"Tell me what you want to know first." Mailin did not accept it immediately.

"I have a promising young team member here who wants to learn something. Do you know of any teachers who could instruct him?" He grabbed Mick and pulled him forward for Mailin to inspect.

"How old is he, and what's his situation?"

"I'm almost seventeen, but not quite yet. I know the Breathing Technique and my swordsmanship is quite good," Mick introduced himself proudly.

"Knowing the Breathing Technique at seventeen? He certainly has some talent." Mailin pondered for a moment.

"Are you looking for combat-related skills or something else?"

"I want to learn combat—" Before Mick could finish, Jero interrupted him.

"No, he needs to learn academic subjects."

Jero corrected him, then pressed his thick fingers onto Mick's shoulder to keep him from interjecting.

"Academic subjects? That's a bit unexpected." Mailin looked at the two of them.

"For basic enlightenment, I know a decent teacher who was once a student of Scholar Heide."

"Only enlightenment?" Jero seemed somewhat unsatisfied.

"Then what exactly do you want him to learn?" Mailin asked again.

"I'm hoping for something more advanced, so he can have better prospects in the future."

"In that case..." Mailin thought of something, but immediately shook her head.

"That person is also taking on new students, but there's no guarantee he'll accept him."

"Who?" Jero was curious now.

"The very same Scholar Heide I just mentioned. That gentleman is beginning to hold lectures again."

Scholar Heide's reputation in Scorched Stone City was incredibly illustrious. After all, there were only three scholars in total, and two of them were his own students; he could be considered the very symbol of erudition and wisdom in Scorched Stone City.

"That gentleman! This is wonderful!" Jero patted Mick's shoulder repeatedly, causing the boy immense pain.

"Don't get too excited just yet. That man has high standards for his students," Mailin said, rubbing her forehead.

"It'll be fine. I'm sure that gentleman will be able to see Mick's talent. It's decided."

Afterward, Jero dragged a reluctant Mick away from the front desk, and a chorus of cheers erupted from the rest of the team.

"That's Scholar Heide!" someone said with excitement and anticipation.

"Mick, you rascal, if you become Scholar Heide's student, you'll be set for life."

"Maybe you'll even become a knight enfeoffed by Viscount Xuefeng one day."

"That's a bit far off. If he becomes a magistrate, I'll be the first to cling to his coattails."

"Hahaha!"

Mick, who had been somewhat unwilling, finally changed his mind and grew excited after hearing so much praise from his teammates.

Could I really be chosen by that great man? The youth felt both nervous and expectant in his heart.