Then he swiftly slashed again, cutting through the flesh halfway around the Cockatrice's neck and leaving its head drooping.
But Dick did not press his advantage. Instead, he quickly retreated another two steps.
The duration of Mind Shockwave had ended, and he had to guard against the monster's dying counterattack.
Sure enough, just as Dick had expected, the dying Cockatrice beat its wings even harder, recklessly attacking everything around it.
It thrashed through the surrounding weeds and bushes, sending twigs and leaves flying.
After a long while, it gave a hoarse cry like a rooster breathing its last after having its throat slit, twitched twice more, then lay still.
Even then, Dick did not immediately approach. He merely watched its corpse warily.
Until a notification appeared on the panel:
Hunted a Cockatrice. Gained Energy Points ×15. First hunt of a [Dragonkin]. Gained Energy Points ×15. Completed the monster-hunting commission. Gained Energy Points ×15. Current total: Energy Points ×100.
Only after receiving the notification did Dick breathe a sigh of relief. Then his legs gave out, and he slumped to the ground.
Fortunately, the dead tree behind which the woodcutter had hidden was right behind him, so he could lean against its trunk.
Otherwise, he would have ended up curled on the ground.
Dick had no strength left in his body, and his eyelids only felt heavier and heavier.
He knew this was caused by excessive blood loss.
The woodcutter approached Dick, trembling.
"Master witcher, are you dead?"
"No." Dick rolled his eyes irritably. "There's a small dark bottle in the pouch on the right side of my waist. Open it for me."
"Yes, yes."
The woodcutter did as instructed, opening Dick's waist pouch to reveal a finely made iron box. When he opened the lid, several small, sealed, clear glass bottles lay neatly arranged inside.
Banyang took out a dark glass bottle, scraped off the beeswax with some effort, then twisted out the stopper.
"Master witcher, is this the one you wanted?"
"Yes."
With that, Dick opened his mouth, and the woodcutter took the hint and poured the potion into it.
In an instant, a taste several times more bitter than Chinese herbal medicine exploded across Dick's taste buds.
At that moment, his face became a mask of pain.
Then he felt stabbing pain all over, as though needles were piercing his body.
From the woodcutter's perspective, the dying master witcher's facial veins bulged and his expression twisted, just like a plague-stricken pig he had once seen.
A thought rose in his mind:
Could the witcher have been infected by the monster and be turning into one himself?
The thought frightened him into cautiously backing away two steps.
Dick had no attention to spare for anything else. He merely closed his eyes, feeling the stabbing pain slowly fade as warmth flowed through his body.
A short while later, he felt his strength return.
Looking down, he saw that the wounds on the skin beneath the armor split open by the Cockatrice's attack had already begun to scab over.
Dick tried slowly getting to his feet and found that nothing was seriously wrong anymore. He was merely somewhat weak.
Looks like... I survived.
No wonder a message at the start of the game said that no witcher knew how long he could live, because no witcher died of old age-only in battle.
If the woodcutter's axe had not distracted the Cockatrice in time, he would have joined the ranks of witchers slain in battle.
"Thank you for this. You saved my life, so I won't charge you." Dick looked at the woodcutter earnestly.
"No, master, you should still take those ten crowns. If you hadn't come, and that monster came back, it would have found me sooner or later."
"All right, then. Ten crowns it is. I'll need another favor from you now."
"Just say the word. As long as it's something I can do."
"My body is rather weak right now, and I can't use my full strength.
"I need you to use your axe to chop the Cockatrice's head off completely. Just cut where I struck its neck with my silver sword earlier. That will save you some effort."
"Master witcher, is this monster called a Cockatrice edible? Why do we need to cut his head off?"
"Just do as I say."
Banyang said no more. He picked up the fallen axe and severed the Cockatrice's head completely with a few blows.
He made his living chopping wood, and perhaps practice had made perfect: his chopping strokes were powerful and precise, without a single one going astray.
Indeed, every axe blow he delivered to the Cockatrice landed exactly where the previous one had.
"Very good. Now reach into his neck. Yes, just like that. Dig deeper, hard."
"Master, I think I've touched something soft."
"Good. Pull it off hard. That's its gland."
"All right." Banyang looked miserable, but he still did as Dick instructed.
With a tearing crack and a hard tug, a dark red gland came free.
"You did very well."
Offering verbal encouragement, Dick took a piece of oilpaper from his waist and wrapped the gland in it.
While Banyang had been busy, he had not been idle either.
Dick had already gently slit open the Cockatrice's belly with his dagger. After peeling back the skin, he removed the layer of yellow material beneath it-the Cockatrice's fat.
After putting both the gland and the fat into his waist pouch, Dick smiled in satisfaction:
Though the Cockatrice was vicious and mindless, its whole body was a treasure. Its gland and fat could be made into blade oils and potions, and its skin could be made into armor.
Its feathers could be sold to wealthy collectors. Those nobles liked adorning themselves with things taken from rare monsters.
Just as he was thinking about how to skin the Cockatrice and take its hide away, Dick suddenly heard an unusual sound, which gradually grew grating to his keen witcher hearing.
Dick frowned deeply and said in a low voice, "We leave now. Immediately."
"What's wrong, master witcher?"
Banyang was wiping the blood from his hands with some nearby leaves. Dick did not answer. He got up first and, with only a glance to signal him, ran toward the edge of the Black Forest.
Seeing this, Banyang knew the situation was urgent. Without asking any more questions, he took to his heels as well.
Only moments later, creaking sounds like shifting bones rang out behind them.
In the darkness deep within the Black Forest, countless branches and leaves rapidly snaked forward, prowling over the damp soil like venomous snakes, accompanied by a large flock of crows circling and cawing overhead.
The branches and leaves shifted back and forth, seemingly searching for something.
Before long, having found nothing, they slowly retreated deeper into the Black Forest.
But at one point, the branches and leaves suddenly stopped.
Several branches lashed forward, wrapping around the dead monster's corpse, tightening their grip, then slowly dragging it backward until it disappeared.
The flock of crows in the sky disappeared along with it.
Watching this from the outskirts of the Black Forest, Dick slowly breathed a sigh of relief.