Chapter 2: The Little Hunter 2

A burst of chaotic noise erupted, and from the mountain of refuse, three burly men, raggedly dressed and with ferocious expressions, suddenly leapt out... Wildlings! Whether others called them wildlings or they claimed the name themselves, they could not deny the truth: wildlings truly carried a savage air about them—crude, uninhibited, violent, and terrifying. Their faces were covered in stubble, eyes deeply set yet gleaming with a chilling light, glowing faintly red in the dusk like enraged beasts. In their hands they gripped bows and arrows, with quivers slung across their backs, giving them the air of ancient heroes.

“Hahaha, what a haul today! It’s rare for someone important to leave the Firmament and come to our B-Zone at this hour. It’s like a pie falling from the sky—such luck!” One of the wildlings looked at the Professor, his gaze burning with excitement, making the Professor, for a moment, question both his own gender and appearance.

“Big Brother, pies falling from the sky might be a good thing, but nothing in this world comes so easily. If it does, it’s either a trap or a plot. Your metaphor is off,” said another wildling brother, who appeared dull and honest.

“What do you know, Second Brother? Don’t think that just because you learned a few words from the Mad Kid, you can sound all refined. I’m not worried about any of that. This fat prize is ours, the three of us. With these two guns, who in B-Zone could stand against us? We could walk sideways and no one would dare stop us.”

The youngest wildling grinned, revealing dirty yellow teeth, scooped up the two guns, and his face shone with excitement.

“Don’t… don’t mention the Mad Kid, damn it! It’s unlucky!” The eldest glared at them fiercely, snatched a gun, and fired a shot at a mercenary still twitching on the ground. Delighted, he exclaimed, “This thing really is much easier than a bow and arrow.”

“Really? Let me try.” The youngest raised the gun and aimed it at the Professor.

“We should go! The Mad Kid is coming!” the honest wildling suddenly said in a panic, clearly wary of this so-called Mad Kid.

The youngest hesitated, then angrily retorted, “We have guns now—what is there to fear?”

The eldest frowned. “The Mad Kid can’t stand killing. We’d better not cross him. Have you forgotten who made our bows and arrows? That kid’s archery is even deadlier than a gun!”

The youngest was clearly unwilling, once again raising the gun and aiming it at the Professor, finger tightening on the trigger. The Professor trembled, seemingly petrified, staring blankly at the ferocious young man.

Whoosh!

The wind howled differently this time. Out of the corner of his eye, the Professor saw a small, monkey-like figure leap from the distant, swirling dust—a shockingly slender silhouette flying across the littered ground, every obstacle an illusion before him. He vaulted and rolled with the agility of an acrobat.

Even as he ran, the boy seemed to sense the Professor’s peril and, mid-stride, nocked and loosed an arrow. That arrow, both in speed and force, far exceeded what such a slight body should manage; in an instant, a flash of silver was upon them.

A flicker of terror crossed the eldest wildling’s face. He kicked the youngest aside. The arrow grazed by, burying itself in a heap of scrap metal with a crisp ring, even sparking a spray of fire. Its force outstripped even the arrows the eldest had used to kill the mercenary moments before. One could imagine the horror if such an arrow struck flesh. The youngest, who had just brushed past death, saw his pallid cheeks flush scarlet.

The three brothers exchanged a glance and reached a silent agreement: run!

To the Professor’s astonishment, the three men whirled and bolted across the valley like startled rabbits.

Even more astonishing, that slender figure shouted into the wind, “Stop! Leave your spoils behind before you go!”

The voice was clear and melodious—it was unmistakably a child!

A child, with such skill, such strength, and such presence—it was almost beyond belief. In a flash, the boy stood before the Professor, while the three wildlings had already vanished over the hilltop, too far to pursue.

As the Professor gazed at the boy, his eyes brightened, as if he’d discovered a rare treasure.

He was a child of about nine, clad in a faded but immaculately clean down jacket, a quiver of arrows on his back, a bow in his hand. His unruly hair reached his neck but was not unkempt; his features were delicate, his eyes clear and spirited, radiating an extraordinary purity.

With a single glance, the Professor was shaken. This child was like the freshest white lotus in all creation, the very embodiment of innocence. Only in infants had the Professor ever seen such purity of gaze and spirit.

“Hmph, daring to break my rules—this time you escaped fast, but next time, I’ll kill you for sure!” The little boy pouted and stomped his foot in a manner both petulant and endearing, yet his words were chilling. Anyone else might have laughed it off, but the Professor believed him completely.

A nine-year-old boy, affecting the airs of an elder, might have seemed ridiculous. But what could scare off those savage, greedy wildlings? Out here beyond the Firmament, status meant nothing; he must rely only on his own true abilities.

“Little friend, thank you for saving me! May I ask your name? Where are your parents?”

The Professor’s gratitude was heartfelt. Had the boy not fired that arrow in time, the youngest wildling would have riddled him with bullets. Protective suits might block bacteria, but not bullets.

“My name is Le Kai—Le for happiness, Kai for joy! And don’t call me little friend. I’m already nine years old. Compared to the South China leopard, which matures at three, I’m practically old. My parents are gone. I’m the head of my household now. Old man, at your age, why aren’t you enjoying a peaceful life at home? Why come here just to die?” Le Kai replied with an air of maturity, standing with his bow in the wind, looking rather flamboyant, clearly puzzled by the Professor’s presence at his age.

The Professor nearly choked. Nine years old was already old? Then what did that make him? What kind of upbringing did this child have? He felt a pang of sorrow. At this age, a child should be under the care of parents, studying, playing, and learning—not hunting with a bow and arrow in this perilous wilderness.

“My name is Professor. Just call me Professor. As you can see, I am a scholar, conducting research.” The Professor looked at Le Kai and said earnestly, “Le Kai, will you help me?”