Chapter 20: Could It Be Him?
Chen Fan gazed at the distant wildebeest’s massive frame, feeling a surge of relief.
He hadn’t expected the creature to react so swiftly, deftly dodging his first arrow. Now that he thought about it, this made sense—the beast had been closely monitoring their group. When he’d aimed his bow, he’d distinctly felt its attention lock onto him.
Thankfully, he’d boosted his [Basic Archery] to level 4 and his mounted archery trait to level 2 the previous night. Without that 30% accuracy boost, landing the second shot would’ve been nearly impossible. The third arrow had been overkill—a cautious follow-up to ensure the kill.
+9 Experience Points.
The notification flashed in his mind.
Chen Fan’s eyes widened. He hadn’t anticipated such a hefty reward for slaying the wildebeest. Combined with his earlier kills—black rats and desert hares—it seemed low-level beasts granted between 1 to 10 experience points. Minor fluctuations hardly mattered.
His attention dropped to [Basic Archery], and he stiffened. The proficiency bar had leapt to 30%—a 15% gain from just three shots.
Combat truly is the fastest way to grow, he mused. Stationary or moving targets, nothing beats real action.
Around him, the hunting party began to stir.
“D-did that wildebeest just… get hit?”
“Y-yeah! That neck shot finished it!”
“So Xiao Fan killed it before it charged?”
“What kind of archery is this? Even the Wei brothers couldn’t top that!”
The group stared at Chen Fan with undisguised awe. Even Chen Guodong, their leader, looked stunned. He’d assumed Chen Fan’s skills were limited to stationary targets, but this? Had the boy been hiding his true ability last night?
Chen Fan scratched his head, feigning modesty. “Why’s everyone staring? I just got lucky. Try it again, and I’d probably miss.”
The team snorted in unison.
“You used that ‘luck’ excuse last time!” The bald hunter clapped Chen Fan’s shoulder. “Get some new material, kid.”
“No need for false humility,” another chimed in. “With skills like yours, we’ll eat well for weeks!”
“Today’s haul is our biggest ever! The village’ll lose their minds!”
“This is just the start! With our sharpshooter here, we’ll bag this much daily!”
Cheers erupted, louder than the prairie wind. After yesterday’s empty-handed return following the Wei brothers’ departure, this success felt miraculous.
Chen Fan smiled quietly. In this merciless world where ordinary folk scraped by like ants, he’d proven he could sustain their survival—for now. But hope, however small, could blaze into an inferno. His next goals? Push [Basic Archery] further and master combat techniques to grow stronger.
A calloused hand settled on his shoulder. He turned to meet Chen Guodong’s proud grin.
The village lay tranquil as ever.
Near the warehouse, Wang Ping and his peers drilled spear forms under the limping man’s distracted gaze.
“Uncle Zhang… worried about Fan Ge’s group?” Wang Ping ventured.
The instructor side-eyed him. “Nosy brat. Enjoy your extra drills during break.”
“N-no! I’ll shut up!” Wang Ping wilted, instantly regretting his curiosity.
Zhao Feng spoke up. “Uncle Zhang, can Chen Fan actually hit prey out there?”
“Doubt it.” The reply was curt.
“What?!” Wang Ping gaped. “He never misses! Last time, he nailed every shot!”
The limping man fixed him with a withering stare. “Know why traditional martial arts lost to foreign styles pre-Mutation?”
Wang Ping blinked at the non sequitur. “Uh… no?”
“No real combat. Fancy forms mean nothing without battle sense.” The man jabbed a finger at the trainees. “Same for you lot. You’ll piss yourselves facing actual beasts. And Chen Fan? His archery’s pretty, but the wild’s no target range.”
The group fell silent, defiance warring with unease.
Before the lecture could continue, a commotion erupted at the village gates—shouts, laughter, the clamor of unexpected triumph.
“The hunting team’s back?!”
“Impossible! They just left!”
The limping man frowned. Early returns usually meant disaster… or a miracle.
He hobbled toward the noise, trainees trailing. Before they reached the gates, cries of “Bountiful harvest!” reached them—multiple desert hares and a 300-pound wildebeest!
Pushing through the crowd, they gaped at the kills. Every carcass bore arrows through lethal points.
The limping man paled.
It’s him.
The face flashing through his mind was unmistakable.
