After nearly a shichen, the Black Panther Guards finally finished clearing the boulders, opening a narrow passage into the heart of the valley. The air inside remained thick and stagnant with the pungent scent of fresh blood. Xich Vu stepped inside, his gaze locking onto the scene in the center of the valley. The three carcasses of the Black-veined Hounds lay there, silent testaments to a fierce and brutal struggle. This hellish scene caused even the ruthless Black Panther Guards to shiver involuntarily.
A heavy silence descended. Xich Vu slowly knelt on one knee beside the corpse of the Black-veined Hound that had had its throat slit. His long, callus-hardened fingers gently traced the incision. "The cut is incredibly clean," he murmured, his voice no longer containing a shred of anger, only a chilling, absolute coldness. "The blade entered from the left, three cuns deep, severing both the artery and the windpipe. The force was steady, without a hint of trembling. This strike... possessed not half a shred of hesitation."
He stood up and walked to the second beast. "This strike was an upward slash, extremely insidious. He utilized the moment the beast lunged to pivot and counterattack. His movement technique is exceptionally agile. He possesses not only raw strength but true combat skill." He analyzed each wound, his mind incessantly reconstructing the entire battle. With every detail uncovered, the contempt in his heart faded a bit more, replaced by a morbid sense of intrigue.
"Commander... the collar of the pack leader... is gone," a Black Panther Guard reported tremulously, holding up a tattered piece of cloth.
Xich Vu took the cloth and brought it to his nose, sniffing lightly. The scent of sweat, mud, and... the aroma of Luring Powder. "So that's how it is," Xich Vu let out a soft chuckle, a sound that made his subordinates shudder. "He used Luring Powder to stimulate the hounds' frenzy, causing them to ignore commands. He anticipated the beasts' reactions beforehand. Step by step, everything fell within his calculations."
He raised his head, staring into the deep reaches of the forest. For the first time in ten years, Xich Vu had encountered an opponent who made him feel such intense interest.
"He is no mere rat," Xich Vu said. "He is a young wolf. A cunning, ruthless, and incredibly intelligent young wolf. He took the collar not as a trophy, but to send me a message."
"What message, sir?" the guard asked in bewilderment.
"The message that this hunt has changed," Xich Vu replied, his eyes gleaming strangely beneath his mask. "He is telling me that from this moment forward, I am not the only hunter. He... is one as well." His sense of humiliation had passed, giving way to the competitive spirit of a grandmaster who had finally met a worthy adversary.
"Pass down my orders," his voice turned decisive. "Change the plan. There is no need to track his trail anymore. He is too skilled at concealing himself and laying traps. We will not follow in his footsteps; instead, we shall remain one step ahead of him." He spread out a map. "This path, no matter how treacherous, ultimately only has a few main exits. Black Crow and Blood Hand will continue their mission, but not to block the way—only to observe. Any creature exiting the forest must be reported. As for us," he pointed to his main force, "we are going to find 'water'."
"Water, sir?" his subordinates asked in surprise.
"Indeed," Xich Vu nodded with a cold smile. "A man, no matter how powerful, cannot survive without water. He has traveled throughout the night and has just endured a battle. He will undoubtedly seek out a source of clean water. In this forest, there are only three major streams. We will not go looking for him; we will go there... and wait."
He had shifted his tactics, moving from an active hunting net to a silent and even more deadly trap.
Several miles away, within a small cavern hidden behind a thundering white waterfall, Tran Kien was carefully tending to his wounds. A claw from a Black-veined Hound had grazed his forearm, leaving three deep gashes. He carefully tore a piece of clean cloth, poured some medicinal powder from a vial of Wound-Healing Powder onto it, and gently bandaged the area. A cooling sensation quickly soothed the pain. Afterward, he took out a Qi-Recuperation Pill and tossed it into his mouth. A wave of warmth rapidly spread through his body, washing away his fatigue.
He sat cross-legged upon a flat stone, eyes closed, circulating the warm current according to the Iron Thrust mnemonic. He was not only recovering his physical strength but also reflecting on the entirety of the battle. The first strike was fast enough, but not clean enough. The second strike, though insidious, had still given the opponent an opening to counter. He critically examined every single action.
Tran Kien snapped his eyes open. In his palm, the silver collar of the Black-veined Hound still retained a trace of warmth. He had intentionally left a tattered piece of cloth on the battlefield. Xich Vu had surely found it. He would know that Tran Kien had used Luring Powder; he would understand that Tran Kien was no fool who only knew how to flee. And that meant the enemy would be forced to change their plans.
Tran Kien stood up and walked to the cave entrance, his gaze fixed on the roaring waterfall. The thundering sound of the water drowned out all other noise, creating a perfect screen. He will no longer pursue my tracks, he murmured. He will guess my essential needs: water, food, and rest. He will move a step ahead to set an ambush.
Tran Kien looked at the crystal-clear water beneath his feet. The corners of his mouth curled into a cold smile. You think I need those streams? You are mistaken.
He looked up, watching the droplets spraying from the waterfall and the leaves still damp with night dew. In this forest, to one who knew how to survive, water was everywhere. Xich Vu, you have lost a move to me, Tran Kien thought to himself. And now, you are walking straight into an even greater trap.
He was in no hurry to leave. He knew the enemy was waiting. In that case, he would let them wait—let them taste the sensation of restless anxiety. Patience, at times, was the sharpest weapon of all. He decided he would remain in this cavern for a day to fully recover while preparing for the next act of the play.