With the plan decided, Fang fought as he retreated, luring his enemy away from the Swift Cat's corpse.
Relying on his seasoned combat experience and familiarity with the terrain, Fang repeatedly dodged Fina's attacks despite being completely outmatched in physical ability.
Whenever he truly could not avoid an attack, Fang did his best to block it with both arms. As long as his internal organs were not severely damaged, the Forest Trolls' almost freakish regenerative ability could restore him within a few breaths.
Compared to simple pursuit and escape, direct combat consumed far more stamina and mental energy. After around ten minutes of fierce fighting, both Fina and Fang were panting heavily, their bodies filled with exhaustion.
Logically, Fang's endurance should have far surpassed Fina's, but regenerating injuries did not come without a cost. Much of Fang's stamina had been spent recovering from his wounds, and he was beginning to struggle to keep going.
The distance felt about right. More importantly, if this dragged on any longer, Fang feared he would not have enough strength left to carry his prey back to the tribe. After all, the forest was never short of dangers. He had to save some strength for attacks that could come at any moment.
Fang pulled a small wooden bottle from his waist, bit off the stopper, and forcefully splashed its contents at Fina as she pounced again.
The liquid vaporized the instant it touched the air. At the same time, an intensely pungent smell arose, enveloping the unprepared Fina in a cloud of crimson mist.
"Awoo—!"
Fina let out a pained scream and clamped her paws over her nose and mouth. Her tail lashed wildly behind her as, while shielding herself, she tried to use the gusts stirred up by its movements to disperse the pungent