At the first gray light of dawn, Gordon climbed out of bed right on schedule.
He moved his right arm, finding it loose and nimble, then twisted his waist. The crisp pops told him that his bone injuries had healed.
He jumped up and down a few times, hard. With no dull pain or discomfort in his chest or abdomen either, his body seemed to be back in peak condition.
He punched his palm, and the solid impact brought a satisfied grin to his face.
He dug out a few rations and filled his stomach, washing them down with water.
He put on the pieces of his hunter armor one by one. Once fully geared up, Gordon equipped his round shield and carefully honed his Hunter's Knife with a whetstone.
With everything ready, Gordon stepped out of the tent.
His Hunter's Knife bore the distinctive dark purple sheen of dried poisonous mushroom juice, and his waterskin was filled to the brim with a crude healing potion.
The centerpiece of his battle plan, the "devious giant matsutakes," had been wrapped in broad leaves and carefully tucked into his pack.
He let out a long breath.
Facing the soon-to-rise sun, Gordon strode toward the camp entrance. Like a truly seasoned hunter, he began the first hunt of his life in which he would stop at nothing.
Over an hour passed.
Gordon was in no hurry. Only sufficient patience would let him pick out the faint clues to a monster's whereabouts.
Now, he had found something.
Running his fingers over a streak of Paintball pigment on a tree trunk, Gordon sniffed, trying to distinguish the lingering scent of paintberries in the air.
He used it to determine the Bullfango King's current location and distance.
More than ten hours had passed since last night's battle, and the Paintball had nearly reached the limit of its effectiveness.
Fortunately, it had not rained last night. Otherwise, the Paintball's effectiveness would have been greatly reduced, and the traces of pigment and scent would have been washed away.
Then he really would have been stumbling around blind.
"Northeast, about two or three kilometers away... near that stream with all the mushrooms? Lucky me," Gordon muttered, his eyes lighting up.
Over the past two years, he had spent at least a third of his time in this outer region of the Schrade Hills.
He could not claim to know every blade of grass and every tree, but he knew each area's environment, terrain, and available resources inside out.
The area where the Bullfango King was now had relatively flat terrain and numerous streams. It was one of the best mushroom-gathering spots nearby, and the beast was very likely foraging there.
That would greatly improve the chances of his poisoning plan succeeding.
He quickened his pace.
He had to set out the poisoned bait before the Bullfango King ate its fill.
After traveling for over half an hour, the faint scent of the Paintball in the air gradually became steady and distinct.
Gordon knew he was close to his target.
He removed his helmet and instantly gauged the wind direction using the more sensitive skin of his cheeks and neck.
His luck was still holding. He was downwind, so as long as he was careful, he could sneak up on the Bullfango King without worrying about being discovered.
Gordon continued his approach at a slow pace.
This time, he had learned his lesson from last night. As he took a roundabout route forward, he carefully checked the surrounding area.
To be honest, the experience had left him a little rattled.
He had gone hunting a Great Bullfango, only for a Bullfango King to appear. If something else bizarre showed up while he was hunting the Bullfango King, how was he supposed to survive?
Fortunately, the Schrade Hills were relatively peaceful by day. Apart from a few Aptonoth placidly grazing, the only animals larger than rabbits were some deer even more timid than rabbits.
Another half hour passed as he silently scouted and approached.
Lying concealed in the bushes, Gordon once again caught sight of that huge, imposing figure.
The Bullfango King ambled leisurely among the streams and vegetation, searching for tasty berries and mushrooms.
Something seemed off about its left hind leg. When it walked, that leg spent less time on the ground than the right, a sight that pleased Gordon.
The desperate slash he had landed last night had indeed injured the Bullfango King's Achilles tendon. A single night's natural recovery had not been enough to heal the wound completely.
That might give him an opening.
Gordon did not recklessly charge out. Since he was outmatched in raw strength, he had to be cautious. It was not yet time for a head-on fight.
After observing it for a while and confirming its general route, Gordon quietly withdrew.
He needed to reach the Bullfango King's next feeding spot ahead of it and make his preparations.
A few minutes later, Gordon reached a clearing in the woods.
Many fallen pines lay here, their trunks snapped and roots upturned. These trees had long since died, yet they still "lived" in another way.
Everything in the forest had its value, and rotting wood was no exception.
Both the soft, thick moss completely covering the rotten wood and the clusters of mushrooms were among the Bullfango King's favorite foods.
Giant matsutakes, prized by gourmets as "treasures of the forest," could occasionally be gathered nearby as well.
Gordon was at least seventy percent certain that the Bullfango King would pass through here before long to enjoy a fine meal.
He grabbed a handful of pungent moss from a nearby tree and rubbed it hard over his hands and feet to mask his human scent, preventing the Bullfango King from noticing anything amiss later.
He found a stump where he had gathered giant matsutakes before and shallowly buried the paralysis mushrooms and poisonous mushrooms disguised as giant matsutakes. Then Gordon erased his traces and silently left.
The chopped giant matsutakes smeared over the poisoned bait gave off a strong enough scent that Gordon believed the Bullfango King would find it unerringly, even buried in the soil.
Honestly, Gordon had no idea whether this would fool the Bullfango King's keen nose, or whether the poisoned bait would have any effect once eaten.
If it failed, everything would come down to the Hunter's Knife in his hand.
He scanned his surroundings, found a patch of bushes downwind, and concealed himself there. All he could do now was wait.
Ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour.
Time ticked away. Gordon kept telling himself to be patient, but even so, he could not help growing anxious.
Just as he was about to give up, the Bullfango King's heavy footsteps sounded in the distance.
Gordon felt his heartbeat quicken. He hurriedly adjusted his breathing, doing his best to quiet both his pounding heart and his breaths as he crouched behind the bushes, as motionless as a real stump.
The Bullfango King's nose twitched this way and that.
It seemed to catch a faint whiff of that detestable human.
But compared with that barely perceptible scent, it was far more interested in an intoxicating aroma that often appeared in its sweetest dreams-the fragrance of giant matsutakes.
Even as the king of its entire herd, it rarely had the chance to eat those delicious giant matsutakes. When had it last enjoyed that delicacy? Perhaps the autumn before breeding season. That sweet, rich flavor was truly unforgettable.
Following the aroma, the Bullfango King trotted over to the stump.
Its long snout easily pushed aside the loose dirt, exposing the delicacies buried beneath.
The fragrance of giant matsutakes immediately grew stronger. Unlike before, these "giant matsutakes" even carried the sweet scent of honey.
Snort, snort... there seemed to be some other smells mixed in too?
Whatever!
The Bullfango King opened its great maw and, in a few mouthfuls, chewed up the delicious mushrooms and swallowed them.
Moments later, roars broken by abdominal pain and a numb mouth rang out through the entire forest.
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