Matthew froze in the middle of slicing the dried meat.
His hand hovered in midair, the tip of his short dagger a mere inch from the dried meat on the wooden cutting board.
His gaze, however, was locked onto the dripping rabbit carcass hanging from his belt. More precisely, it was fixed on the semi-coagulated blood.
“This is the ultimate bait!”
As predators of the forest outskirts, Shadow Wolves relied heavily on their keen sense of smell to survive.
Fresh blood would be an irresistible draw for them.
Although today's rabbit wasn't particularly fresh anymore, Matthew's numerous Vine Traps were enough to ensure he caught at least one a day.
A surge of joy washed over him. He hadn't expected the bait issue to be solved so easily!
“This is almost like a perpetual motion machine... I only need to sacrifice one wild rabbit a day—or even just its innards—and I can still keep the meat.”
“Even if my luck is terrible, as long as I give it enough time, I'm bound to catch something eventually!”
This realization made him look forward to the results of his pitfall trap even more.
After finishing his lunch, Matthew put the trap out of his mind for now. He slung his backpack, now packed with dried meat, over his shoulder and headed toward his training ground on the east side of the village.
The afternoon sun filtered through the thin clouds, casting faint patches of light onto the dirt path.
As Matthew walked, a sudden sense of comfort washed over him.
With an abundant supply of meat, reaching the Black Iron Rank was practically within arm's reach.
As for the potential crisis with the Fiery Lion family, he didn't need to worry too much about it either.
Winter was fast approaching, and the heavy snow would soon block the roads. Even if the Fiery Lion family had their suspicions, they would never expend massive amounts of manpower and resources to travel to this remote town just for a second son.
They would have to wait until spring, when the snow melted.
Unless... they had other, more important business.
“Still, even if the Fiery Lion family doesn't come looking for me, I will eventually take the initiative to seek them out once I have enough strength. It's just a matter of how I approach them.”
Matthew thought to himself.
Before his death, Brody had revealed information regarding the mysterious symbols on the black iron bar.
Brody's father apparently had some research on it.
Matthew figured this information was highly likely to be true.
For one, Brody had been under intense torture at the time and wouldn't have dared to lie.
Secondly, Matthew had obtained his meditation method from Brody, which was proof enough that the Brody family possessed some heritage.
The reason he cared so much was because he suspected the iron bar might be an item related to the path of wizards, considering it had been kept together with the crystal clusters.
To secure a higher ceiling for his future development, Matthew had to uncover the secrets of the iron bar.
Before long, Matthew arrived at the training ground on the east side of the village. The flat clearing was covered in a crisscross of old and new footprints.
The trunk of a nearby large tree was densely scarred with marks left behind from slashing and thrusting.
Matthew carefully set his meat-filled backpack beside a dry, large boulder, and then began his daily training.
He took a deep breath, feeling the abundant life energy coursing through his body. Having plenty of meat in reserve gave him immense confidence.
He drew the practice longsword from his waist, the cool touch of the hilt instantly refreshing his mind.
“Today, I will definitely make a massive stride in Melting Slash!”
Previously, Matthew's progress had been limited to just two points a day due to a lack of food, but things were different now.
With a low shout, he fell into a stance in the clearing.
Matthew repeatedly practiced Melting Slash in the training ground. With every swing of his sword, he synchronized his movements with the rhythm of his breathing technique, straining to channel the life energy within his body.
With an ample supply of dried meat, he didn't have to worry about exhausting his physical strength. The whistling of his blade cutting through the air grew increasingly fierce, occasionally even dragging behind it brilliant, dazzling flashes of light!
System notifications flashed before his eyes one after another.
As the days passed, Matthew spent his mornings honing his combat techniques at the training ground, his afternoons practicing Energy Missile and archery, and his evenings meditating to cultivate his wizard path.
His supply of dried meat dwindled at a visible rate, but his swordsmanship and body control improved by leaps and bounds.
...
A week later, in the early morning, Matthew pushed open the wooden door, and a blast of biting cold air rushed over him.
Last night, the second snow of this winter had fallen silently.
As far as the eye could see, the nearby rooftops, dirt roads, distant mountains, and fields were all blanketed under a layer of soft, white snow.
Standing by the doorway, he exhaled a breath of white mist and sighed inwardly:
“I didn't expect the snow to come so suddenly, nearly half a month earlier than in previous years... Because of this, I'll have to be much more cautious when moving through the forest. But while it makes things harder, there is a silver lining.”
The need for caution was because walking on snow would leave highly visible tracks. Not only would it drain more of his stamina, but it could also expose his movements and draw unwanted attention.
The silver lining was that Matthew could also use the snow to track the Shadow Wolf's movements.
He turned back into the house, closing the door behind him to shut out the cold.
The hearth fire had long since died out, but the residual warmth from last night had not yet fully dissipated.
He walked over to the wooden table and picked up a large, still-steaming bowl of meat porridge—a breakfast he had cooked right after waking up. A few pieces of black bread sat beside it.
On the other side of the table lay another portion of meat porridge and bread, slightly smaller in size.
Matthew lifted his bowl, feeling the slight pang of hunger in his stomach, and couldn't help but sigh softly.
Ever since his Constitution had begun steadily improving—especially with the increased intensity of his Melting Slash training—his body's demand for energy had grown by the day.
In just a single week, that entire full bag of dried meat had been completely devoured.
If converted to money, that was worth eight silver coins!
He didn't particularly mind the cost, as he was still quite wealthy for now.
The money Uncle Delank had delivered last time, combined with the funds he had obtained from selling monster materials in town, amounted to a decent fortune.
The real difficulty right now wasn't a lack of money, but rather how to convert that money into the resources he needed.
Stone Mill Village was merely a remote hamlet. It couldn't even produce and supply basic food like dried meat on its own; residents had to rely on trade or hunting.
However, last night's unexpected heavy snowfall had blanketed the dirt road leading out of the village in deep snow, drastically increasing the difficulty and risk of travel.
Aside from the slow pace and the risk of getting lost in the snow, the potential threat of lurking wild beasts or even startled magical beasts made the journey anything but easy.
“It seems that before the pitfall trap yields any results, I'll have to get by on the village's existing dried meat and ordinary food...”
Matthew calculated in his mind.
“Or, I can hope Instructor Calm can successfully bring over some Steel-Maned Boar or Iron-Backed Lynx meat. But with the snow blocking the roads, outsiders can't get in, and locals can't easily get out. It'll probably be delayed by quite a few days.”
He shook his head, temporarily putting aside his anticipation for magical beast meat.
Right now, his only hope for a stable source of extra meat, and perhaps even catching a magical beast, rested entirely on the snow-covered forest and the trap he was about to set up.
His gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where a pile of sharp wooden spikes lay—each a meter long and as thick as a man's forearm.
Rate on N.U.
