Chapter 4: The Little Hunter 4

In his tense state, the professor's foot slipped ever so slightly, just enough to dislodge a small stone beneath him. The pebble tumbled down, striking a heap of scrap metal and producing a faint clang. Though the sound was hardly noticeable amidst the roaring wind, the mutated wild dogs below proved far more alert; their sharp senses immediately detected the disturbance. They ceased their feeding, their fur bristling into stiff, steel-like spikes, making them appear all the more fearsome.

“Damn, we’ve been spotted. These beasts have ears like knives. Quick, hide!”

Le Kai spoke with a grin, then suddenly sprang to his feet. He drew his alloy bow with practiced ease—a lingering, explosive sound echoed as the bowstring snapped taut. The steel-tipped arrow shot forth with a mournful whistle, slicing through the wind. His decisiveness was chilling, utterly devoid of hesitation. The professor was astonished by his strength; the alloy bows produced by the Empire were marked according to their power, ranging from 100 to 500 Ank. An Ank, the Empire’s standard unit for force, equated roughly to one pound. An ordinary person would be lucky to manage a bow rated at 200 Ank. Yet the professor had noticed, to his shock, that Le Kai’s bow was stamped with a rating of 300.

Watching Le Kai shoot, it seemed effortless, as natural as eating or drinking—clearly, this level of force was not his limit. A nine-year-old child, possessing not only intelligence and experience far beyond his years but also strength surpassing most adults—what manner of creature was this boy?

Even more terrifying was his precision. The moment the arrow left the string, a tall wild dog whimpered, leaping up as if flung like a battered sack, tumbling over three meters before crashing to the ground. Debris scattered wildly as it struggled to rise, but the steel arrow had pierced clean through its abdomen, impaling it. However formidable a mutated beast might be, it could only die in place.

The two remaining wild dogs did not shrink back. Instead, they erupted in angry, ferocious barking and, with a leap, rushed toward them, highly attuned to the scent of humans.

“Beasts, prepare to die!”

Le Kai shouted, a trace of imperiousness in his voice. His slender body sprang atop a boulder a meter high, drawing his bow once more.

The dogs, realizing their foe was merely a child, became enraged and charged at Le Kai, their open jaws revealing sharp, gleaming fangs. But they had gravely underestimated him. The whistling steel arrow, like an invitation from the Grim Reaper, spelled death for its target.

With a contemptuous hiss, the arrow struck the head of one mutated dog, the collision sending it tumbling to the ground as if tripped by a tether, collapsing in a heap. But now, Le Kai had no time to loose a third arrow—the remaining dog was less than three meters from him.

At such proximity, the bow and arrow no longer posed a threat.

A flicker of nervousness finally appeared on Le Kai’s face, but he did not retreat. Reaching to his waist, he drew a long, curved blade—longer than his arm, slightly exaggerated in his grasp. He crouched, feet planted firmly atop the stone, his eyes burning with a crimson light fiercer than that of the wild dog.

The professor watched in astonishment, sensing true murderous intent emanating from the boy.

Heavens, what was happening? Such a young child, and already he exuded the aura of a killer. How many animals had this boy slain?

The wild dog stared at Le Kai, bloodlust gleaming in its savage eyes. This was its prey; it felt certain that this frail human could not withstand its mutated claws. Mutated wild dogs were not only twice the size of their ordinary counterparts, but their limbs bore sharp claws like those of a tiger or leopard, making them vastly more dangerous.

“Careful!”

Before the professor could finish his warning, the wild dog leapt, roaring, like a giant kangaroo soaring through the air—strength and grace combined. Its open jaws, fangs aimed at Le Kai’s throat, struck with a ferocity rivaling a tiger.

Le Kai’s composure was almost chilling. His slender frame was nailed to the stone, unmoving, until the dog’s body was airborne and the foul wind reached him. Suddenly, he shifted—one foot anchored to the stone, the other raised and pivoted, twisting his body as gracefully as a ballet dancer. Strangely, his left foot remained motionless, giving the impression he had no bones, his whole body forming an arc. In that instant, his curved blade sliced through the air, tracing a beautiful, tragic semicircle.

The movement seemed uncanny and perilous, but every moment and ounce of force was perfectly measured, as if calculated a hundred times, as if the mutated dog itself cooperated in its own demise. The blade swung, precisely slitting the dog's throat. Blood sprayed as the beast crashed to the ground like a rag doll, landing before the professor, unmoving. Blood splattered on the professor’s shoes and pant legs, yet he was oblivious, staring at Le Kai as if witnessing some unnatural being.

Le Kai’s body trembled; he suddenly crouched, gasping for breath, his youthful face flushed unnaturally, sweat rolling down like rain. The professor was dumbfounded.

“The scent of blood here has already drawn the attention of other predators. We must leave immediately!” After only a brief pause, Le Kai jumped down from the stone, the flush on his face fading to pale exhaustion. He spoke, his steps faltering, and ran off.

Suppressing his shock, the professor hurried after him, only to see Le Kai stop before the corpse of a wild dog. Reaching down, Le Kai tried to hoist it, but he was too spent and let it fall. Turning to the professor, he said, “You should be able to carry one, right?”

The professor frowned. “Le Kai, you don’t mean to eat these mutated wild dogs, do you? They’ve been irradiated—are they even edible?”

Truthfully, what the professor wanted to say was, wild dogs that eat corpses are simply revolting.

Le Kai looked at him in surprise. “What about radiation? Even after being irradiated, they’re still animals, aren’t they? If they’re animals, why shouldn’t we eat them? I’ve been eating them for years and haven’t seen any problems! I’ve used up too much strength just now, I can’t carry them anymore. Hurry up and take one—we’ll rely on it for tonight’s dinner.”

The professor wanted to protest, but seeing the exhaustion in Le Kai’s eyes, he was shaken and complied. He hoisted a wild dog onto his back and followed Le Kai toward the other side of the slope.