Chapter 5: Peril in the Mountains

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Upon reaching the foot of the mountain, Su Yanwen immediately regretted his decision. The mountain loomed like a slumbering giant beast, its thick blanket of snow soft as cotton, tightly covering the earth. Moonlight spilled over the treetops, frost glistening like scattered silver diamonds. The higher he climbed, the more the cold pierced to the bone. Even at the warmest point during the day, the temperature barely rose above minus four degrees; at night, a mere ten degrees below zero was considered fortunate.

Without modern, specialized equipment, venturing into the mountain after dark was a death sentence. Spending the night there was indeed unwise, yet it was a choice made out of necessity. Su Yanwen’s style was to prevent disaster before it struck, not to react after the fact.

The wind whispered through the forest, stirring snow into mist, causing branches to shiver. Not far in, Su Yanwen grew tense—the wind felt wrong. It roared like an enraged beast, whipping up heavy snowflakes that danced wildly in the air, engulfing everything in a blinding white haze as if the world was on the brink of apocalypse.

Visibility was barely a meter. Moving forward, one could be unlucky enough to plunge into a pit, or worse, fall off a cliff. Standing still meant freezing solid, turning into an ice sculpture. Not only Su Yanwen but the animals faced the same dire predicament.

“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath. Originally, he had planned to set traps and gather berries, but now just staying alive seemed a victory. If he didn’t quickly find shelter from the storm, he would be buried alive in the snow.

The wind intensified, carrying countless sharp flakes that lashed against his body. The world became a vast white void, the environment indistinguishable. The ground was crisscrossed with footprints—rabbits, foxes, lynxes...

If not for the blasted wind, Su Yanwen might have leapt with joy at the abundance of signs of life. Staring into the storm, he felt as fragile as a sheet of paper, ready to be blown down and shattered into icy fragments at any moment. The roar of the wind was the only sound in his ears.

He recalled his Himalayan expeditions where he had seen many frozen corpses curled in peaceful repose. In such brutal cold and wind, the greatest danger was stopping—once you stopped moving, death was certain.

Just as despair was about to overwhelm him, a dark figure emerged through the blizzard, running toward Su Yanwen. It was too close to identify clearly. His heart sank and he instinctively gripped the knife in his hand. Judging by its size, it was bigger than a lynx, possibly a large predator like a tiger.

The shadow moved like a ghost, swiftly approaching. It was a wolf—twice the size of a normal one, sleek black fur without a single stray hair, eyes gleaming green.

It didn’t attack immediately but suddenly flashed past him, disappearing into the whiteness. No creature understood the wilderness better than wild animals; they were far more familiar with the terrain.

Su Yanwen sighed with unease. The wolf had vanished, and he had no idea which direction it had gone. Surrounded by endless white, he could no longer distinguish sky from earth. Nightfall would only make progress impossible.

With no other choice, Su Yanwen steeled himself and hurried after the black wolf.

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After a few steps, a hill rose up, sheltering against the howling wind and snow. From afar, it was all white—without the black wolf’s appearance, he might never have noticed the natural barrier.

The hill formed a kind of natural wall, creating a triangular zone untouched by the storm. Su Yanwen shivered violently, ignoring everything else as he hurried inside, wrapping his clothes tightly around himself. One hand clasped his knife, eyes alert for any movement.

He didn’t believe in miracles; this place was simply a refuge for animals enduring extreme weather. Behind haystacks, beneath trees, within crevices, there could be wolves, tigers, or leopards lurking.

Outside, the howling storm surely terrified every creature; no one cared about anyone else now—it was survival above all. When the storm subsided, a true battle would begin.

Su Yanwen’s hand tightened around the knife, veins bulging as night fell completely, the wind and snow still relentless. He had fashioned a circle of sharpened wooden stakes at home to guard against wolves leaping at him in the dark.

As his strength returned, the complex scents of animals filled the air. He smiled bitterly—was this luck or misfortune? Experienced hunters might spend all day in the winter mountains without glimpsing a single rabbit, yet here he was, surrounded by dozens of creatures.

Now, he could only pray that when the storm ended, he could avoid the predators as quickly as possible.

He held a fire starter at the ready, prepared to ignite a torch soaked in pine resin the instant the blizzard ceased.

Time passed unknowingly. Perhaps his ears had numbed from the cold, for the wind’s roar faded away. Light gradually returned to the sky, and the world before him grew clear.

A sudden roar shattered the silence. A fierce tiger with piercing white eyes lunged at him. Clearly, Su Yanwen was the prime target.

His hair stood on end. With a swift roll, he narrowly avoided the tiger’s strike. It twisted and pounced again.

Competing on strength or speed was hopeless. At the critical moment, the fire starter flared to life, igniting the resin-soaked torch.

Flames leapt, scorching the tiger’s face. The beast howled in pain, retreating with a violent stampede. Fearful of fire, it hesitated to strike again immediately.

Seizing the moment, Su Yanwen grasped the torch in his teeth and scrambled up a tree.

Another roar echoed. The tiger lunged, seizing and killing a snow rabbit with a snap of its jaws.

The smell of blood spread.

Neither herbivore nor carnivore cared about hiding anymore; they all bolted into the open.

What a sight.

From his perch, Su Yanwen watched the carnage—a brutal but magnificent spectacle. He marveled at the thriving ecosystem: just in this small refuge from the storm, hundreds of animals gathered.

The tiger seemed to be at a buffet, biting the neck of any creature it caught.

Chaos erupted as animals fled in all directions.

No one cared about anyone else; they simply ran for their lives.

The tiger pursued relentlessly, catching and killing one prey after another.

Scattered across the ground were animal carcasses, many still twitching.

Su Yanwen’s heart pounded fiercely.

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Given the weapon in his hand, capturing large animals was clearly impossible. Yet these beasts were doing the hunting for him—would it be wrong not to take advantage?

Stealing prey from a tiger’s jaws was a deadly gamble.

But he had no choice.

It was better than letting his poor daughter be taken away.

Swiftly, he slid down from the tree, grabbed a snow rabbit, and ran.

He hurried forward, chuckling as he picked up another, tying it to his waist.

Continuing on, he gleefully collected more.

The tiger’s roars were close by.

Su Yanwen dared not be reckless. No matter how skilled he was in the real world, here he would never dare face a tiger head-on.

Besides, without guns, humans were just slightly larger prey in the eyes of such beasts.

Throughout the ordeal, he never dared look back, running as fast as he could.

The previous night’s storm had restored the mountain to its original state; no footprints remained on the ground.

He had to rely on memory, slowly making his way down the mountain.

At the village nestled below the mountain, dawn had broken.

Su Yanwen had not returned all night. Zhao Yue’er stared at the bowl of frozen rabbit meat, her anxiety finally giving way to despair.

This weakling, who spoke endlessly of filial piety, had once again abandoned them when trouble came.

“Mother!” In her arms, Cao’er seemed to sense Zhao Yue’er’s trembling, opening her eyes in confusion. She glanced at the rabbit meat, licked her chapped lips, and looked anxiously toward the door.

The little rabbit hadn’t eaten all night, its cries growing faint.

“Mother, I’m going to find food for the bunny,” Cao’er said, preparing to leave.

“Cao’er.” Zhao Yue’er called her back, a bittersweet smile on her face. “Mother will go.”

“Bang!” The courtyard gate was kicked open.

Miao Qin’s crying and shouting grew louder as she pointed to the doorway, saying, “Oh, village chief, I surely wouldn’t dare cause you trouble!”

“That girl is inside the house.”

“Look at her mother’s enchanting appearance—that shows how radiant she has grown.”

“Please take her away quickly.”