Fangs in the Mountain Forest (Part One)

In the blink of an eye, half a year quietly slipped by.

Spring always came quietly to Wushan Town. The ice on the river melted without a sound one night, and when people pushed open their wooden windows the next morning, they heard not the silence of ice, but the burble of flowing water. Flecks of green emerged from grass that had lain yellow all winter, and tender buds sprouted on the treetops behind the town.

Loa was already nine and a half.

He had grown another stretch taller, and the trouser legs lengthened last year were almost too short to reach his ankles again. His shoulders had broadened, and the muscles of his arms and legs had grown firm through daily training. Though his frame was still that of a slender boy, he was gradually taking on the outline of a warrior. The most obvious change was in his hands-the calluses between thumb and forefinger and at the bases of his fingers were thick and hard, charcoal dust lodged in the creases of his palms refused to wash out, and his grip on a sword was as steady as an iron clamp.

Over the past six months, his days had been as regular as a pendulum. Morning exercise, smithing, training, reading. Yet some things had changed after all.

He had finished nearly all the books in Grandpa Hiri's study that he was allowed to read. The Yulan Continent Gazetteer had taught him the courses of the major mountain ranges and rivers, the Common Magical Beasts Illustrated Guide had familiarized him with the dangerous creatures he might encounter nearby, and Basic Herb Identification had taught him which wild plants could stop bleeding and ease pain. He had even forced himself through those dry volumes, An Introduction to Noble Heraldry and A Brief History of the Continent-much of it remained only half understood, but at least he now had a vague outline of this world's political landscape and history.

He knew the Holy Union consisted of six great kingdoms, that the O'Brien Empire was sacred ground in the hearts of warriors, and that the North Sea held magical beasts larger than mountains. He knew mages were divided into nine ranks, with the Saint level above them; that the color of a warrior's battle-qi changed with their level; and that people with certain special bloodlines were born with strength comparable to dragons.

But all this was merely "knowing." It was like looking at scenery through frosted glass, hazy and indistinct.

What truly made Loa feel different was the "qi" inside him.

It had grown stronger. It could no longer be described as a "wisp," but was more like a little stream flowing slowly through his lower abdomen. Though still small, its presence was unmistakable. When he swung his sword with all his strength or wielded his hammer at the forge, he could clearly feel it circulate with his breathing, nourishing his muscles and increasing his explosive power. He did not know what to call it-it was not battle-qi, which required a specialized secret manual to guide it and had distinct elemental characteristics. His "qi" was colorless and formless, more like some kind of power naturally produced when his body was highly coordinated and his mind intensely focused.

After finishing his training that morning, Loa did not go straight back to the smithy. He detoured to the general store at the eastern end of town and spent the dozen or so copper coins he had saved over half a year on a small packet of salt, a length of new hemp rope, and a piece of flint. Then he turned into the courtyard of Mund, the old hunter.

Old Mund was over sixty, with a slightly stooped back and wrinkles as deep as old tree bark, but his eyes were still sharp. In his youth, he had been Wushan Town's finest hunter. Now that he was getting on in years, he seldom went into the mountains and only occasionally helped people mend their hunting gear.

"Grandpa Mund," Loa called from the courtyard gate.

The old man came out of the house holding half a piece of unfinished black bread. Seeing Loa, he nodded. "Little blacksmith. Need something?"

"I wanted to ask you something." Loa chose his words carefully. "Has there been anything in the hills lately... that I should watch out for?"

Mund narrowed his eyes and looked him over. "You want to go into the mountains?"

"Yes. I want to catch some game and improve our meals." Loa did not hide it. "Grandpa Jack's old cough has flared up again. I want to make him some meat broth to build up his strength."

The old man was silent for a while, slowly chewing his bread.

"The mountains haven't been peaceful lately." He swallowed the bread and lowered his voice. "There are boars causing trouble near that oak grove to the south. Not one or two, but a small herd. Three snares Old Cook set a while back were rooted up, and he lost a good billhook, too. They're ordinary wild boars, but enough of them can still be trouble."

He paused, his wrinkles deepening. "But... some of the signs aren't quite right."

Something stirred in Loa's heart. "What signs?"

"There's a tree in the woods, as thick as the mouth of a bowl, snapped clean through," Mund said. "The break didn't look like anything an ordinary boar could manage. There were hoofprints, too, much deeper than a normal boar's, with the soil churned up around them. A few of us old fellows figured something big might have come into the mountains and driven the boar herd out toward the edges."

"Something big?" Loa pressed.

Mund shook his head. "Hard to say. Could be a bear, could be something else. We didn't dare investigate deeper in. Anyway, be careful. Don't go deep into the oak grove. Stay around the edges and settle for a few pheasants or rabbits. If you hear anything wrong, run. Don't try to be a hero."

"I'll remember. Thank you, Grandpa Mund."

Leaving Mund's house, Loa returned to the smithy. Old Jack was sitting beside the furnace, coughing until his face turned red. When he saw Loa return, he waved a hand and tried to say something, only to break into another violent coughing fit.

Loa poured him a bowl of hot water and handed it over. Only after the old man caught his breath did he speak. "Grandpa Jack, I'm going into the mountains this afternoon."

Old Jack's head shot up. "The mountains? What are you going into the mountains for?"

"To hunt some game," Loa said. "And see if there are any herbs while I'm there. Your cough is bad. You need to build up your strength."

"Nonsense!" Old Jack grew agitated. "Are the mountains any place for you? So many seasoned hunters don't dare go deep in, and you're just a child..."

"I won't go deep in." Loa's voice was calm. "I'll stay around the edges and catch some pheasants. Grandpa Mund told me where it's safe."

Hearing Mund's name calmed Old Jack a little, but he was still worried. "What are you going to hunt with? That little shortbow of yours?" Loa had previously made a simple shortbow out of scraps. Its range was less than twenty paces, barely enough to frighten birds.

Loa said nothing. He walked to a corner of the smithy and lifted an old canvas sheet.

Beneath it lay a sword.

He had forged it himself. He had saved good iron scraps for three months and secretly forged it while Old Jack was at the southern end of town repairing someone's plowshare. The sword was two and a half feet long, made in the style of a one-handed sword, but slightly thicker and heavier than an ordinary one. There were no ornate patterns or fine polishing; marks left by the hammer were still visible on the blade. Its spine was straight, its edge sharpened, and it gave off a cold, hard blue gleam in the dim smithy.

Old Jack froze. He stared at the sword for a long time.

"When did you..." The old man's voice was a little hoarse.

"A while ago," Loa said. "For practice."

That was an excuse, of course. Old Jack had taught him smithing for two years and could judge the sword's quality at a glance-rough as it was, it was made from solid materials and thoroughly forged. It was certainly not something produced merely "for practice." Care and time had gone into it.

"You child..." Old Jack sighed. In the end, he raised no further objections and only warned him, "Go early and come back early. Start down the mountain once the sun passes overhead. Do you hear me?"

"Yes. All right."

That afternoon, Loa headed into the mountains with an old cloth pack on his back.

The pack held his sword, hemp rope, flint, a small packet of salt, and two rye cakes for provisions. He wore his oldest clothes-they were easy to move in, and he would not mind if they got torn.

Spring in the hills behind town was more vivid than in the town itself. The snow had melted completely, leaving the soil soft, damp, and a little slippery underfoot. Fresh leaves covered the branches, and sunlight spilled through the gaps, casting dappled light and shadow across the forest floor. The air held the earthy scent of soil, the mustiness of rotting leaves, and a certain fresh scent belonging to newly growing plants.

Loa walked carefully. Following Mund's directions, he headed east along a foot-worn trail, a relatively safe route often used by the old hunters. His eyes swept his surroundings from time to time-not admiring the scenery, but observing.

Some branches in the shrubs to his left had snapped, the breaks still fresh, perhaps caught by a passing animal. There were claw marks low on the trunk of a tree to his right, probably left by a badger or fox. Occasionally, he spotted small hoofprints on the ground, like those of deer or mountain goats.

As he walked, he compared what he saw with the knowledge from the illustrated guide.

Everything went smoothly. After walking for roughly an hour, he reached a relatively open slope. There was plenty of sunlight here, the grass grew thick, and small animals often came to forage. Loa found a sheltered spot downwind and crouched, taking his homemade shortbow and a few sharpened wooden arrows from his cloth pack.

Waiting required patience. He adjusted his breathing, letting himself blend into his surroundings. Birdsong, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the burble of a distant stream... these sounds gradually grew clearer, then slowly faded away, until only his own heartbeat and breathing remained.

After an unknown length of time, a rustling came from the grass.

A pheasant poked its head out and emerged, its feathers colorful, looking warily from side to side. Loa held his breath and slowly drew the bowstring.

Just then-

Boom!

A dull crash came from the woods on the other side of the slope, followed by the crack of breaking wood and the furious howl of some beast. The sound was exceptionally deep and powerful, making Loa's eardrums tingle.

Startled, the pheasant flew away with a flurry of wings.

Loa's heart sank. He put away his bow, gripped the sword hilt at his waist, and crept silently toward the source of the sound.

After passing through a small patch of shrubs, his pupils abruptly contracted at the sight before him.

A massive creature was struggling wildly in a forest clearing. Its hind leg had stepped into a concealed pit lined with sharpened wooden stakes, which had pierced its leg. But the pain had only stirred its ferocity. The beast was frantically ramming its body against the surrounding trees, easily snapping saplings as thick as the mouth of a bowl and sending splinters flying.

Loa quickly studied it, then drew in a sharp breath.

This was no ordinary wild boar.

It was at least a full size larger than Mund had described, its shoulders reaching almost above his chest. Stiff blackish-brown bristles stood on end all over its body, gleaming an eerie dark red in the sunlight-a feature mentioned in the illustrated guide. Only that special kind of boar had this "bloodmane." The tusks flanking its mouth curved upward, more than half a foot long, their tips gleaming a chilling white and smeared with mud and bloody foam. Most alarming of all were its eyes-blood-red, with what seemed to be a faint earthen-yellow light flowing deep within its pupils.

A Rockskin Boar, a Rank 1 Magical Beast.

The guide's description flashed through Loa's mind: a low-level Earth Element Magical Beast, with skin hardened like rock and strength far beyond an ordinary wild boar's, capable of snapping large trees in a charge. Danger rating: moderately high. Enough to threaten a Rank 2 Warrior.

His grip on the sword tightened. What Mund and the others had seen was merely a herd of ordinary boars driven to the outskirts by this magical beast. The real threat was here.

I can't let it get out.

The pit did not seem deep enough. The boar could still move the front half of its body, and it was bracing its forehooves against the rim. Each heave sent soil cascading from the edge. At this rate, it would break free in another quarter of an hour at most.

When that happened, never mind him-the entire outer area would become its rampaging ground.

Now is my only chance.

Loa drew a deep breath, and that wisp of "qi" swiftly circulated through his body. His sword hand was as steady as an iron clamp, his gaze locked on the side of the boar's neck-the relatively weak spot marked in the guide. Yet even that weak spot was exceptionally tough against ordinary weapons.

The instant the boar reared again, trying to hook its forehooves over the rim, Loa moved.

No shout, no hesitation. The essentials of Gale Thrust burst through his mind-push off, twist the waist, explode!

He shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, faster than during his usual training. Rather than charging in a straight line, he used the slope to trace a subtle curve, avoiding the boar's tusks and frontal charge.

Sensing danger, the boar turned its blood-red eyes toward him, let out a deafening, frenzied roar, and swung its head around to charge. At that instant, a faint earthen-yellow halo actually rose around its body—Earth Element protection!

But Loa was no longer where it had expected him to be.

His blade flashed like lightning, driving viciously toward the boar's neck with all his strength and the added power of his "qi."

Clang!

A tremendous ringing like metal striking metal!

The instant the sword tip struck, Loa felt as though he had stabbed a rock wrapped in leather. The immense recoil numbed the web of his hand. But the sword did not break-he had forged it himself, using the best iron and hammering it thoroughly solid. The tip forced its way through the earthen-yellow halo and pierced the thick hide.

It sank only an inch into the flesh before it could go no farther.

The boar howled in pain and shook its head wildly. Loa reacted at once, pulling out his sword and retreating swiftly. Just as he withdrew, the boar's tusk scraped past his waist, tearing a slit in his clothes and leaving his skin burning with pain.

So tough!

Loa's heart pounded. Against an ordinary boar, that thrust would already have pierced its neck. But this Rockskin Boar's defenses were absurdly strong.

The boar went utterly berserk. Ignoring its injured hind leg, it battered the pit wall in a frantic attempt to escape. Large chunks of earth collapsed from the rim.

There's no time.

Loa forced himself to calm down. Observe. Think. What had the guide said? Rockskin Boar, an Earth Element Magical Beast, hardened skin, but its eyes and mouth were vulnerable. Magical power covered its entire body, and the only relatively weak place was...

Just then, the boar reared again, planted its forehooves on the rim, and hurled itself upward with the force of its fury.

Now!

Loa charged again, this time at an even trickier angle. The instant the boar launched its charge, he circled behind it.

The boar sensed something was wrong, and a chill rose in its heart.

Gripping his sword in both hands, he poured all his strength and that surging "qi" into this single blow.

The blade traced a vicious arc and stabbed hard into that tender spot, then twisted wildly. With a shrill scream, the Rockskin Boar collapsed to the ground. Seizing its weakness to finish it off, he swung his sword again at the neck he had wounded before.