A troublesome opponent
It was cold in the woods.
There was no wind noise or other sounds, only a deathly stillness after the ground had frozen over, pressing down on the entire area.
Lu Heng's feet were firmly planted on the snow, his center of gravity low, keeping him firmly rooted to the spot. The spot on his left shoulder where the tiger's tail had struck was still stiff, the skin and flesh numb, and when he exerted force, there was a slight, dull pain from the pulling motion, so he dared not use all his strength.
His house was not far behind him.
Taking a step back, rushing through the door and slamming it shut, ensures absolute safety in the short term.
But Lu Heng knew in his heart that he could not back down.
He had already witnessed the patience of the Forest Rock Tiger. For days, he had been secretly following it, enduring, lying in wait, and observing, never rushing or getting impatient. Once such a beast had identified its prey, it would not give up easily. Today, he had retreated home to hide, and the tiger was most likely lying in wait in the woods outside the house.
A tiger blocking the door is more deadly than a tiger in the wild.
From now on, our movements, the collection of supplies, and our rest will all be at the mercy of others. If this hidden danger is not eliminated, we will have no way to survive in peace.
With his mind made up, Lu Heng completely suppressed any thoughts of retreat and focused on dealing with the current standoff.
He gripped the Bronze Hunting Blade firmly, took a step forward, and immediately drew his sword.
The sword technique was executed with perfect precision, a clean and orderly sequence of slashing, chopping, and sweeping movements. The moves, honed through repeated practice, were etched into muscle memory, ensuring each twist of the waist, each strike, and each finishing motion was flawless. The blade flashed through the air, cutting through the snow before him with impressive power.
But the Forest Rock Tiger on the opposite side simply didn't take the hits.
This beast has lived too long; its combat experience is all genuine, honed through countless life-or-death battles. It doesn't understand any sword techniques or routines, yet it can predict Lu Heng's sword trajectory in advance from subtle signs such as raising his shoulder, turning his wrist, and shifting his center of gravity.
As soon as the blade was raised, it leaped to the side, nimbly avoiding the first strike.
As the heavy slash came down, it pushed off with its hind legs, its massive body retracting backward, just in time to escape the killing range the moment the blade hit the ground.
With a final sweeping attack, it lowered its shoulders and back, gliding along the snow to dodge, its movements rough yet precise, without any unnecessary exertion.
After completing the entire sword technique, the blade swept through the air without even touching a single tiger hair.
Lu Heng's heart sank slightly.
No matter how well he practices his moves, they are still fixed routines, with predictable start, transition, and finish. Against opponents of similar skill, they are disciplined, but against this battle-hardened wild predator, they are obvious weaknesses.
The tiger remained on the perimeter, avoiding greedy attacks and rash advances, its eyes fixed on the knife in his hand. It was intelligent, clearly knowing that this Bronze Hunting Blade was the only threat that could seriously injure it, and consistently adhered to one strategy—avoiding the blade and waiting for an opening.
Lu Heng continued to pull and probe.
He deliberately broke up the set sword techniques, no longer performing complete combos, adding more feints and changes of moves, trying to eliminate the fixed signs of his attacks and disrupt the tiger's predictive rhythm.
But the results were minimal.
The tiger's reaction is always half a step faster than his.
No matter how many times he feinted or changed his moves, this beast could always accurately judge the distance, either retreating in advance or shifting slightly, always causing the blade to miss.
After being pulled back and forth for more than ten seconds, Lu Heng's breathing gradually became heavier.
His physical strength was constantly being depleted, and his mind was under immense tension. Every swing of his sword that missed its mark, every tense and relaxed muscle movement, was a useless drain. In contrast Forest Rock Tiger was calm and composed, advancing and retreating with ease, displaying terrifying patience.
From beginning to end, he was completely controlled by his opponent and had no advantage whatsoever.
Lu Heng knew in his heart that if they continued to drag things out like this, they would only become more and more passive.
The difference in close-quarters combat experience cannot be bridged by a set of skilled sword techniques or a strengthened physique. He has no chance of winning in a head-on confrontation.
We must change our playing style.
He gradually slowed his attacks, deliberately reducing the frequency of his strikes, pretending to be exhausted and his offensive was weakening, and continued to maneuver and pull the tiger at a distance.
He needs to clear a moment's window of opportunity.
A gap large enough for a change of hands, one that goes unnoticed.
The Forest Rock Tiger was indeed fooled by his demeanor. Though still wary, it slowly lowered its body, shifted its center of gravity forward, and began to tentatively approach. In its eyes, this human prey only relied on the knife in its hand. As long as it avoided the blade, the opponent posed no threat.
This is the moment.
The two sides once again parted ways to create distance. The moment the tiger's attention was completely focused on the flash of the blade in front of him, Lu Heng's left hand moved with incredible speed, reaching directly into his Storage Space, pulling out Hand Crossbow, cocking it, and aiming—the whole sequence of actions was completed in one smooth motion.
There were no unnecessary movements, no unexpected pauses.
Just as the tiger was about to pounce again, the crossbow bolt was suddenly fired.
A short, sharp sound pierced the deathly silence of the forest.
The arrow precisely bit into the outer muscle of the Forest Rock Tiger's foreleg, with most of the arrow shaft embedded deep into the flesh.
A muffled thud.
The blood instantly soaked through the surrounding fur, seeping out along the thick hair and dripping onto the pure white snow, the glaring red patches standing out starkly.
The massive tiger's body trembled violently, its limbs instantly losing their balance. It staggered and took a half-step off course, crushing a patch of snow under its heavy paws.
A low, hoarse growl rolled out from the tiger's throat; it wasn't a threatening roar, but a genuine groan of excruciating pain.
The piercing pain penetrated the skin and flesh, seeping into the bone and blood.
In that instant, most of Forest Rock Tiger's composure, patience, and caution completely collapsed.
It is the overlord of the central region of the Frost Forest.
Having dominated this area for years, roaming the forests and hunting countless prey, it rarely encountered enemies and had not suffered injuries of this magnitude in a long time. Normally, all living beings would avoid it; it was used to crushing everything in its path, used to hunting without taking damage, and used to its absolute dominance.
Today, after patiently following and cautiously maneuvering for days, it managed to control the situation step by step, but instead of easily catching its prey, it ended up wounding and bleeding itself.
Its body was ripped open by a human who was tiny in size and, in its eyes, equivalent to a weak animal.
This is not just an injury; it is the complete trampling of one's wild dignity.
The shame, mixed with intense pain and the ferocity of being provoked, instantly overwhelmed all its reason.
The Forest Rock Tiger suddenly raised its head, its originally cold eyes completely filled with ferocity. The instinctive wariness of blades and Hand Crossbow remained in its eyes, but it was suppressed by its increasingly surging rage.
It no longer wanders around tentatively.
Despite its wounded forelegs, its body remained taut to the extreme, with a slight bulge of rocky keratin on its shoulders and back. A low rumble continued to roll from its throat, its chest vibrated, and the murderous intent in the entire forest suddenly surged.
Hunger is no longer its primary objective.
Tearing this person apart and washing away this shame is its only thought now.
Lu Heng Hand Crossbow, his gaze fixed intently on the enraged beast below, not daring to relax for a moment.
A surprise arrow finally broke the stalemate that had kept him under constant pressure, freeing him from a completely passive position.
But he was very clear-headed.
A wounded overlord is far more terrifying than a patient hunter.
The real battle that followed was a fight to the death.