Before Shallow Night fully arrived, Qin Ming was outside the village.
The dark was still thick. Few people moved.
"Yang Uncle?" He spotted a stocky shape near the path.
Yang Yongqing looked surprised. "Xiao Qin, Shallow Night's barely started. You're heading out already?"
"Want to try my luck. See if anything froze to death near the edge."
Yang Yongqing laughed. "Same idea. I just walked the outer circuit — nothing."
The bearded man was one of Twin Tree Village's few New Life achievers, and Qin Ming had figured him for someone hunting bigger game.
Before they could talk more, a shape moved in the distance.
"Mountain patrol," Yang Yongqing said quietly.
In a world without sun, the wilderness needed guards. Patrollers walked the mountain's outer ring, watching for trouble.
The man who emerged wore leather armor, carried a bow and iron spear, and let his hair hang loose. He radiated raw, feral strength.
"Brother Shao," Yang Yongqing greeted him.
Shao Chengfeng nodded. Mid-forties, eyes sharp as a blade. "This boy's out early with you. Er Bingzi?"
"Er Bingzi's from the next village," Yang Yongqing corrected.
"Your Twin Tree Village hasn't produced a golden-age New Lifer in decades," Shao Chengfeng said bluntly.
Yang Yongqing didn't argue. Talent couldn't be forced.
"Er Bingzi's more impressive than anyone guessed," he said. "They say he's filled his deficiencies and gone up another notch."
Shao Chengfeng nodded. "Remarkable. Whether he matches the bright city's best, though — that's another question."
"Talent comes from the land that feeds it," Yang Yongqing said. He'd seen the bright city's walls, its high-grade manuals.
"True." Shao Chengfeng agreed. "They say two prodigies appeared there — a boy and a girl. Beyond any golden-age New Lifer in memory. Stunned the whole region."
Yang Yongqing only envied, didn't begrudge. Those people lived in another world.
Shao Chengfeng disappeared into the dark.
The mountains held secrets — no one knew what truly lived in the deeps. Patrollers kept watch on the outer ring and prayed.
---
Qin Ming headed into the wilds alone, chest-high snow parting around him like water. He was fast now. New Life had changed him.
Shallow Night came. The forest emerged from the dark.
His stomach growled — the hunger he'd fought back while talking to people broke loose. Acid burned his throat. He gripped his fork and plunged into the trees.
He passed the red squirrel's territory, crossed the low ridge, went deeper than before.
The forest showed signs of life — scattered bones, large hoof-prints, narrow trails beaten through the snow by passing animals.
A sound reached him. Weeping. A woman's cry, thin and pitiful, echoing through the dark woods.
Qin Ming sped toward it.
Green eyes. A dozen of them, scattered among the trees.
He charged in with his fork. Wings exploded overhead — a flock of night birds, two feet long, launched into the sky. Their cry sounded like a woman weeping.
Carnivorous night birds. They hunted small game in packs and sometimes attacked people.
On the ground: stripped bones, bloody scraps of hide. A musk deer, picked clean.
He'd failed to steal their kill. He backed out, wary of the flock returning.
---
An open clearing. Sparse trees. Blood on the snow. Paw-prints the size of rice bowls — a large predator's feeding ground. The leftovers had been carried off by other scavengers.
The outer forest was getting dangerous. Lu Ze had been right.
Qin Ming moved on and found hoof-prints — many of them. He followed.
Twenty-plus dark shapes stood in a group ahead. Big animals, gathered close. Imposing.
Blade-Antler Deer.
Rare in this area. Qin Ming unslung his bow.
Not gentle deer. The mature males had six antlers — flat, sharp as steel blades. A charge from one would punch a hole clean through a man. Even predators attacked them from behind.
He drew to full crescent and shot. The iron arrow hit the big male's lung.
The deer didn't flee. It charged — straight at him. The herd followed, snow exploding, the forest shuddering.
He shot again. The arrow sank deep. The big male stumbled but kept coming.
He slung the bow, climbed a thick tree, and waited.
The male staggered, swayed, and crashed into the snow. The herd milled, panicked, then thundered away.
Qin Ming climbed down. Seven hundred jin of dark-brown muscle, winter-fat and unshrunk. He was satisfied.
The forest was no place to linger. He started dragging the deer back along his trail.
New Life showed its worth — hauling seven hundred jin through snow, and he wasn't even winded.
---
Wind picked up. Snow pellets stung his face. Goosebumps rose on his arms.
Then — something else. Furry paws settled on his shoulders. Hot breath on the back of his neck. A mouth, closing toward his spine.
He dropped his shoulders, crouched, rolled.
Claws hooked through his coat and into his shoulders. Blood.
Snow erupted. A massive shape had been buried in a drift — tall, powerful, lunging after him.
He hit the ground rolling, fast as a snake, and broke free.
The beast came again. Huge claws. A yawning mouth full of teeth.
Qin Ming grabbed its forelimbs — both of them — and held.
The claws hung inches from his face. He could see the thing now: a massive donkey's head, jaws wide, black mane running down its neck, a wolf's body. Four hundred pounds of predator.
Donkey-Head Wolf. Mountain Mule. Donkey head, wolf body, far worse than a wolf. Normal ones started at one hundred eighty jin. This one had mutated.
It lunged for his throat. He jammed its own claws into its own jaws, blocking the bite. Then he curled, coiled his legs, and kicked — hard — into its belly.
The New Life hit like a cannon. Four hundred jin of predator tumbled across the snow, rolling.
It scrambled up. Swiped his fork into the snow, pinning it — keeping him from his weapon.
*Smart.* It had learned.
It stood upright — taller now, roaring, mane bristling.
Qin Ming didn't care. He drew his short knife and advanced. If he met it bare-handed, he'd kill it bare-handed.
The wolf charged. Claws hit the knife with a metallic ring. Qin Ming moved — steel flashed — the wolf's jaw split, fangs sheared off.
He stepped in. His right leg whipped across its body like an iron bar. Bone cracked. It screamed.
He tackled it, pinned four hundred pounds of thrashing beast into the snow, and punched.
The neck snapped. It went still.
Its black pelt was intact — valuable. And Qin Ming found an old iron arrowhead buried in its flesh.
*So it was you.*
The same creature that had stalked him days ago, when he robbed the squirrel's nest. He'd wounded it then.
His shoulders throbbed but the cuts were shallow. If he'd been a beat slower, the claws would have opened his shoulders to the bone and teeth would have closed on his neck.
---
He was starving. He wanted to roast a deer leg on the spot.
But fire in the dark was a beacon. Every creature for miles would come.
He looked at the wolf, the deer, the low ridge ahead. Carrying both over the ridge would be brutal.
He decided to lighten the load.
Quick, efficient work with the knife. He gutted both animals, buried the offal deep in snow to mask the blood-smell. Kept the pelts and meat.
He'd just reached the ridge's mid-slope when the forest behind him exploded.
Trees cracked. Ground shook. Birds burst from the canopy in panicked clouds.
*The blood drew something.*
He saw it — a shape like an iron-plated vehicle, massive, barreling through the forest, demolishing everything in its path. Wounded. Bleeding.
A boar. At least fifteen hundred pounds. Steel-wire bristles, tusks longer than a man's forearm. A boar king — six hundred pounds ruled a herd; this one dwarfed its kind.
*What could beat that?* Qin Ming wondered. *And is it following?*
The boar caught the scent of blood from Qin Ming's kills and turned toward the ridge.
*This is bad.*
He climbed the thickest tree he could find and nocked an arrow, aiming for the eye.
The boar approached — and the forest went silent.
No birds. No running animals. Nothing.
Then Qin Ming saw it. On a distant peak, a ball of light rose. Soft at first, then brilliant, climbing higher.
In a world without sun, moon, or stars — the sky was lit.
The boar king didn't make a sound. It backed away, careful not to crack a branch, and buried itself in a drift like a frightened cat.
Qin Ming's heart pounded. He knew what it was.
A Moon Bug.