"Have you heard? There's a hunter around this area who is rumored to hit every shot, no animal can escape his arrow."
"Ah? Just that, are you out of your mind? I hit every shot too."
"That's because you smash them into pulp with big rocks. It's not the same at all."
"Is that so? That does sound quite special."
As the two individuals drifted farther apart, a brawny man with a carrying basket on his back passed by them. Hearing their conversation made the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile.
"I never thought I'd see the day when I became famous." His carrying basket was brimming with dismembered pieces of wild beast meat.
From afar, he spotted a middle-aged man whose clothes were different from his own—could that be silk? Compared to silk, though, he preferred the look of animal skins to showcase his strength. After all, each piece of skin was crafted from the prey he had hunted himself.
However, he held no disdain for silk. Only the sages of the village wore such garments.
