Encounter

 In this sunless era, wilderness dangers necessitated skilled patrollers for surveillance.

 A leather-armored man emerged—tall, wild-haired, carrying bow and iron spear exuding primal strength.

 "Brother Shao." Yang greeted first.

 Shao Chengfeng nodded. The fortyish man's hawk-like eyes paused on Qin Ming. "Taking such a youngster out? Isn't this the Second Madness kid?"

 "Second Madness is from the neighboring village..." Yang clarified.

 "Your Shuangshu Village isn't up to par. In recent decades, there hasn't been a single Newborn in the golden age bracket." Shao remarked bluntly.

 Yang found this unsurprising. Even across the entire region, few achieved Newborn status at fifteen or sixteen—talent couldn't be forced.

 "Never expected Second Madness to rise so high. Rumor says he's grown even stronger after replenishing his bodily deficiencies."

 "Impressive indeed." Shao agreed. "But can he rival the elites from that radiant distant city?"

 "Hardly. Different lands breed different people." Yang sighed, having witnessed the city's glory and its advanced force tomes.

 "True." Shao nodded. "Word is, two extraordinary youths emerged there—a boy and girl surpassing all previous golden-age Newborns. They've stunned the entire territory."

 "Truly blessed lands." Yang's voice held admiration without envy—their worlds were too far apart.

 Qin Ming listened intently, remaining silent.

 Shao soon vanished into the night. None knew what terrors lurked deep in the pitch-black mountains—this was why patrollers monitored the periphery.

 "Do patrollers enter the mountains daily?" Qin Ming asked.

 "Some take their duties seriously." Yang's answer carried hidden meaning.

 Qin Ming blinked, surprised by the burly man's diplomatic response.

 "The mountains grow unstable. I suspect the authorities will soon launch a 'Cleansing Operation'—noble scions might join. Work hard, Little Qin. Achieve Newborn status in the golden age." Yang gripped his shoulder. "Catch some noble daughter's eye during their descent, and your fate could change."

 They parted ways at the village edge.

 Qin Ming processed this information while trekking through chest-high snow, his movements creating frothing waves of powder.

 As the shallow night arrived, the mountains became faintly visible. Qin Ming paused warily at the forest edge—unseen dangers lurked everywhere.

 His stomach growled fiercely, acidic juices rising. Hunger overrode caution. Gripping his hunting fork, he plunged into the dark woods.

 Beyond mutated squirrels' territory, past the foothill, he ventured deeper than ever before.

 External regions showed ominous signs—shattered bones, massive hoofprints. Beaten paths through snow indicated frequent beast traffic.

 A woman's sob echoed unnaturally through the frozen wilds.

 Qin Ming accelerated toward the sound source. Dozens of emerald eyes glowed in the darkness—shadowy figures clustered ahead.

 Novices might panic, but seasoned hunters recognized opportunity. Qin Ming charged, scattering the flock with his hunting fork. Wingbeats filled the air as carnivorous night-birds fled.

 Disappointment followed—only bloodied bones and tattered hides remained. The birds had devoured a whole river deer.

 Retreating cautiously, Qin Ming found another grisly site—bloodstained ground with dinner-plate-sized paw prints. Something large had feasted here.

 He moved on, discovering fresh hoofprints that reignited hope. Tracking them led to twenty-odd shadowy figures exuding palpable menace.

 "Blade-horned Deer!" Excitement surged. Rare in these parts, their six cranial blades could impale predators.

 Notching an arrow, Qin Ming targeted a massive stag. The iron-tipped projectile pierced lung tissue. Instead of fleeing, the enraged beast charged—herd following in thunderous stampede.

 Qin Ming calmly scaled a thick tree. Through branches, he loosed a second arrow. The stag faltered, collapsed. The herd scattered.

 After ensuring no predators approached, he descended. The 700-pound prize lay before him—remarkable winter weight retention. Dragging his bounty homeward, Newborn strength made light work.

 Snow-laden winds bit his face. Suddenly—hairy claws gripped his shoulders. Hot breath grazed his neck.

 Qin Ming dropped and rolled, shoulder wounds bleeding through torn padding. The ambusher—a 400-pound Donkey-headed Wolf—lunged from snowdrift.

 Grappling its forelimbs, Qin Ming avoided snapping jaws. A powerful kick sent the beast tumbling. It retaliated by burying his hunting fork in snow—surprisingly tactical.

 Upright on hind legs, the creature roared, shaking snow from pines. Qin Ming drew his dagger. Steel clashed against claws. A well-timed slash severed fangs. Follow-up kicks cracked ribs.

 Pinning the monster, Qin Ming delivered bone-crushing punches until its neck snapped. The pelt remained intact—valuable trophy. An old iron arrowhead embedded in its flank solved a mystery—this was the creature that ambushed him weeks prior.

 Hunger gnawed fiercely as he field-dressed both kills, burying offal to mask scent. Halfway up the foothill, distant commotion erupted—trees splintering, earth trembling.

 A 1,500-pound boar king stormed into view—black scales plating its face, tusks like forearm-length daggers. It sniffed blood, charging the hill.

 Qin Ming scrambled up an ancient pine, bow drawn. Then—absolute silence fell. The forest held its breath.

 A luminous sphere ascended distant peaks, swelling until it bathed the night in moonglow. The boar froze, then burrowed into snow like frightened prey.

 Qin Ming's breath caught. This wasn't celestial light—it was a glowing insect.