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He adjusted the strap of his bow and ventured further into the deep forest.
The shadows grew longer, the air thicker.
The earth bore faint impressions wide, deep animal footprints half-sunken in mud.
Han Yan crouched beside one, fingers hovering just above it. The print was deep, the edges still damp. His brows furrowed slightly as he studied it, measuring its size against his hand.
It was fresh far larger than what one would expect wandering this close to the village. If it came any lower down the mountain, it would mean trouble for everyone below.
Han Yan straightened slowly, eyes sweeping over the ground. The soil nearby was pressed in uneven patterns faint marks of weight shifting, grass bent in the same direction. Whatever, left the prints had passed through not long ago.
He adjusted the bow on his shoulder and moved a little further along the path, careful not to step on the trail itself. Though he wasn't a seasoned hunter, the original body had known these mountains well. Which paths led to water, where the animals came to graze, and which ridges offered the best hiding spots. Those memories now rested quietly in his mind, guiding his steps as naturally as if they'd always been his own.
A few scattered claw marks on a nearby trunk caught his attention. They were high too high for a boar or wolf. Han Yan's frown deepened, but there was no fear in it, only calculation. He crouched again, studying the pattern of the forest floor, the way the twigs broke, the faint scuffing against the bark.
If he was right, the creature was heading upward toward the shaded ravine where the water pooled between the rocks. It was a good hunting spot, quiet and covered.
And it seemed he wasn't the only one who knew it.
Han Yan tightened his grip on the bow and moved on, his steps soundless over the damp earth. The mist was thicker here, curling between the trunks in slow, shifting veils. The light dimmed as the canopy drew closer overhead, filtering the sunlight into narrow shafts that pierced the gloom like threads of gold.
A faint rustle stirred in the distance too heavy for a bird and too steady for the wind. Han Yan's gaze lifted, scanning the slope ahead. The air was still, but he could feel a subtle pressure in the mountain.
He crouched again near a cluster of ferns, running his fingertips over the cool soil. The prints here overlapped one large, deep, and clawed; another smaller, lighter, perhaps from a deer. The two trails crossed, but only one continued onward.
Han Yan exhaled slowly. "So it's hunting" he murmured under his breath.
The wind shifted, carrying a faint metallic tang of blood. It was faint, but unmistakable. His brows knit as he followed the scent, careful to keep to the underbrush. Every few steps, he paused, letting the sounds of the forest settle before moving again.
Soon, the faint gurgle of water reached his ears. The ravine wasn't far now a narrow cut between two ridges, where a thin stream ran down from the higher slopes. The air there was colder, and the mist clung more heavily to the ground.
As he stepped closer, a dark shape came into view between the trees a fallen deer, its flank torn open. The ground around it was disturbed, streaked with drag marks and broken twigs. Han Yan's hand went to the bowstring automatically, though his expression stayed calm.
The wounds were ragged but clean-edged not a wolf's work. Whatever had struck it down had done so with a single, powerful blow. He traced the marks lightly, gauging the depth and distance between each tear.
His eyes narrowed.The wounds were deep, slashed by claws, the flesh torn in clean arcs. A predator's work. A big one at that.
He looked up toward the thick tangle of brush beyond the ravine. The silence pressed close, heavy and waiting.
Something was nearby watching.
Han Yan rose slowly, drawing a steady breath. His voice was low, almost lost.
"So that's where you are."
Han Yan stayed still for a long moment, listening. The forest had gone unnaturally quiet even the birds had hushed. Only the faint trickle of water and the whisper of leaves.
He stepped lightly toward the ravine's edge. The ground dipped there, shadowed by a cluster of broad-leafed trees. The mist drifted lower, cool against his skin.
Then he saw it.
At first, it was only a shape a darker shadow within shadows, moving with a soundless grace that made his breath still. Then the light shifted, and sleek black fur caught the faintest glint of gold. The creature's body stretched long and lean, muscle flowing beneath its coat like liquid night.
Its fur was so dark it seemed to swallow the light around it a seamless black that shimmered faintly when it moved. And under that shifting light, Han Yan thought he glimpsed something subtle, almost hidden faint ghost-like spots, the traces of patterns buried beneath the darkness.
The panther crouched beside the fallen deer, its tail swaying in slow, deliberate arcs not in threat, but in quiet awareness. Its shoulders rose and fell with each measured breath, and when it turned its head, the light caught its eyes molten amber, deep and steady, the kind of gaze that didn't look at you too much.
Even crouched, it was massive its head level with Han Yan's chest, paws broad enough to crush bone with a careless swipe. The air around it seemed to bend slightly, as if the forest itself held its breath.
Han Yan's pulse quickened, but not from fear. There was something about this creature not just in its strength. It didn't move like an animal guarding its meal.
He didn't raise his bow. The panther wasn't feeding; it was watching him. Its ears flicked once, acknowledging his presence, before it resumed its stillness, eyes half-lidded yet alert a silent monarch in its quiet dominion.
For a long while, they simply regarded each other hunter and hunted, though neither took a step closer. The mist drifted between them, and the forest seemed to fade into that single breathless moment.
Then, without warning, the panther moved.
In a single, fluid motion, it leapt forward silent and fast as a streak of shadow slicing through the air.
His body tensed but his expression didn't so much as flicker. His movements were smooth, deliberate the picture of calm precision as he drew the bow, posture perfect, focus unwavering.
And then
Thunk.
The arrow dropped straight to the ground.
It didn't fly or even wobble. It just… fell straight down.
Then there was an awkward silence.
Han Yan froze mid-draw, his face utterly blank, eyes locked on the arrow now lying obediently at his feet. For a solid heartbeat, his mind so used to modern logic simply refused to process what had just occurred.
The panther stopped mid-step, staring at him as if equally confused. Its ears twitched. Its golden eyes blinked once, then twice, slowly, like it too was trying to make sense of this.
Han Yan finally lowered the bow slightly, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and mild existential crisis.
Suddenly, a loud, high-pitched laugh rang out from somewhere nearby, too hearty and unrestrained to be polite. The bushes rustled violently, leaves shaking, and out leapt a small black cat, tail flicking as it landed gracefully on a rock nearby. Its bright golden eyes glimmered with arrogant superiority, as if silently judging Han Yan.
The cat's voice, crisp and disdainful, cut through the silence it gave the tiniest huff of disdain and spoke in a voice dripping with proud.
"Humph!… this ancestor has seen a lot in life, seen countless fools but nothing like this. Truly, this is a new level of competence!" it sneered, each word dripping with mockery and sarcasm.
Han Yan froze, silly. "Wait… did that cat just talk?" How could something like that even make sense?
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