Joining the Hunt

At No. 13 Golden Champagne Avenue, the double black iron gates swung outward under the push of two male servants. A waiting open carriage rolled out through the gates and proceeded along the broad, clean street.

The weather was clear, so Sifa chose to travel by open carriage. He had originally intended to ride directly to the logging camp, but old Cook, the coachman, told him that his father, Bison, needed the enclosed carriage that morning, which required two thoroughbred horses to pull it.

Unless Sifa wanted to go to the logging camp alone, the open carriage, which needed only one horse, became his only choice.

The carriage left Golden Champagne Avenue, went around Memorial Square, passed through the rough-and-tumble Qingxiang Road, and headed toward the Aiberry Mountains behind Enqi Town.

As they passed through the main part of town, Sifa noticed that aside from Golden Champagne Avenue and the area around Memorial Square, which had paved roads, everywhere else in Enqi Town had dirt roads. They were fine on sunny days, but when it rained, the ground turned into a muddy mess.

Even if one traveled after the rain stopped, without a carriage, the cuffs of one's trousers would still get dirty.

When I get the chance, I should suggest that Father make a municipal donation to pave the rest of the town as well. It would help establish a positive image. Besides, it would win the support of the common people, which would also help improve my own image. Sitting in the carriage, Sifa let his thoughts wander.

Before long, the carriage left Enqi Town. Beyond the town, there were more trees and far fewer houses.

A road paved with mud and stones stretched toward the Aiberry Mountains. As they passed a fork in the road, Sifa saw a dilapidated farmhouse at its end. It looked as though it had not been repaired in years.

Wild roses crawled over the farmhouse's rubble walls. Dense trees surrounding it seemed unwilling to let sunlight through, leaving the farmhouse hidden beneath dim shadows.

Near the farmhouse was an open plot enclosed by wooden stakes. It looked as though someone had intended to build a livestock pen there. Some lumber had been piled in the clearing, but construction appeared never to have begun.

As the carriage passed the fork, two large black dogs chained outside the farmhouse suddenly sprang up and barked fiercely at it.

Yet throughout the whole process, no one came out of the farmhouse to scold them. It seemed the place had been abandoned.

"That's Ain's home. His farm never got off the ground, and no one knows what happened to the livestock he bought."

Matthew, the male servant seated beside Sifa, pointed at the gloomy farmhouse in the distance.

Sifa remembered it as one of the "interesting stories" Matthew had mentioned in Memorial Square a few days ago.

"That old Ain hasn't had time to work on his farm lately."

Old Cook, who was handling the horses, cut in. He continued in a joking tone, "Two months ago, I heard him bragging to us that he already had two healthy grandsons."

"He was convinced his grandsons would become important people someday. We nearly laughed ourselves sick."

"You have to know, his daughter Saila has always been a little mad, with some intellectual problems. What man would want to marry a wife like that?"

"But last month, Ain got drunk and brought out a child for us to see, saying it was one of his grandsons."

"By the Goddess, it was a freak. Ugly wasn't nearly enough to describe that child's face. He had a goat-like face, very dark skin, a chin covered in coarse hair, and an even more terrifying cry."

"Besides, that child was far too big. He didn't look like a one-month-old baby."

Amid old Cook's endless chatter, they reached the logging camp. Sifa had long since thrown the coachman's words to the back of his mind and focused his attention on the forest grounds.

Many logs lay in a wide clearing, where workers were processing them. The timber would be shipped away by boat to steelworks or other places that needed it.

This logging camp alone brought Sifa's family no less than twenty thousand pounds in profit every year.

On the other side of the clearing stood a row of wooden cabins for the workers. However, several of them had now become temporary lodgings for the Hunters.

As the carriage entered the clearing, Sifa saw several tables set outside the cabins. Seven or eight men sat around them. They seemed to have just finished breakfast, but their plates had been left scattered across the tables.

Among them, a brown-haired middle-aged man stood up. He had deeply defined features and a hard-set face, and his brown eyes reflected the carriage stopped nearby.

He put on a wide-brimmed felt hat and walked over.

"That's Hunter Leon."

The servant dutifully introduced him from the carriage.

Sifa nodded slightly, jumped down from the carriage, and called out with a smile, "Good morning, Mr. Leon."

Leon placed a hand over his chest and gave a slight bow. His eyes narrowed a little. "Good morning, Mr. Sifa. May I ask what brings you here?"

Sifa spoke openly. "I know that, at my father's request, you've been busy these past few days hunting the wild wolves in the mountains."

"I wanted to thank you for your efforts, so I brought a small gift."

Sifa gave Matthew a look. Understanding, the servant took two bottles of white wine from the carriage and placed them on the wooden table.

A bearded man cried out, "Good lord, I've seen this wine in restaurants. Each bottle costs two pounds!"

Leon was briefly stunned, then smiled. "Thank you for your generosity, but the Baron has already paid our commission. We can't accept such an expensive gift."

"You can."

Sifa smiled and revealed his true purpose. "I heard you'll be going into the mountains to hunt again today. I'd like to do my part as well."

Leon immediately frowned. He was about to tell his companions to return the wine when he saw that the bearded man had already pulled out a cork and begun pouring.

The Hunter could only say, "Mr. Sifa, this isn't quite like your usual hunts. Wolves are pack animals, and they're dangerous. The terrain of Aiberry Mountain is complicated. I can't guarantee your safety."

Sifa had anticipated that response. Rather than rush to persuade the Hunter, he looked toward the table and the plates on it. "Do you still need these?"

Leon looked at him in confusion.

"Matthew."

Sifa signaled to the servant. Matthew gathered up the plates on the table, then threw them into the air one after another, in different directions.

Bang!

The shot came from the Serpent-Scale Revolver in Sifa's hand. With a precise shot, he shattered one plate in midair.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Sifa's arm remained steady as it moved continuously, shattering the plates one after another in the air. Although Hunter had improved his combat abilities the most,

it had also made Sifa's senses sharper, while noticeably improving his agility and concentration.

On top of that, Sifa already had a foundation in marksmanship, and he was fairly good at it. After drinking the potion, his shooting ability had consequently improved as well.

Just like now, he easily struck several flying plates moving at high speed in different directions.

Such marksmanship was enough to crush the Hunters around him.

The bearded man pouring the wine watched in a daze. He failed to notice that the cup had overflowed until the white wine spilled onto the table. He cursed, "Shit," then simply bent over and began sucking it off the table.

Sifa lowered his arm, put away the revolver, faced Leon, and said with a smile, "I'll take responsibility for my own safety."