The air grew colder as Yue Zilan stepped past the last stretch of farmland. Behind her, the faint noise of the village faded into silence. Before her stretched the edge of the Black Pine Forest, its tall trees swaying gently, their shadows long and dark under the morning light.
She moved with steady steps, eyes scanning her surroundings. Today wasn't just for hunting — it was for learning the forest's paths. She traced the line of hills in the distance, noted the thicker clusters of pines, and memorized the curves of small streams. Every bend, every landmark, she quietly marked in her mind. A hunter who didn't know the forest was no hunter at all.
The deeper she walked, the stronger the earthy scent became. She began gathering herbs as she went — some she recognized as valuable medicine, others dangerous enough to kill a man in a single dose. Zilan's hands moved with practiced precision, plucking each stem without damaging the roots.
In her previous life, she had been known as both a feared poison master and a revered healer. Her name alone could make warlords lower their heads — either to beg for her help or to beg for mercy. In this life, she had no intention of giving up that skill. Whether saving or destroying, herbs were weapons in her hands.
Hours passed in quiet work. By the time the sun stood high, her pouch was heavy with fresh finds. She stopped by a tall cedar, leapt up with ease, and climbed until she was above the undergrowth. Settling onto a sturdy branch, she unwrapped a small rice ball from her pack.
The view was peaceful — a rolling sea of green beneath the blue sky. She ate slowly, savoring each bite, letting the wind cool her skin. After a short rest, she began sorting through the herbs she had gathered. From several plants, she carefully extracted their juices, mixing them into a small clay pot she always carried.
It was an anaesthetic paste — strong enough to bring down even a wild boar, once it entered the bloodstream.
One of the key herbs she had found that morning was a soft-leaved plant with pale purple flowers. Its roots, when crushed, released a sharp, bitter scent that numbed the fingers almost instantly. Combined with two other plants she had collected, it became a fast-acting tranquilizer.
She sealed the pot, tucked it into her pouch, and climbed down from the tree. The forest floor was quiet except for the chirping of insects. She kept moving, her eyes sharp for signs of life.
A sudden movement caught her attention — a small wild rabbit nibbling at some grass near a fallen log. Zilan's lips curved slightly.
This will cover my dinner tonight, she murmured.
The catch was quick. She tied the rabbit and hung it from her belt, then continued walking. The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering deeper, gathering more herbs, and scanning the ground for animal tracks. The further she went, the dimmer the light became.
By the time the sun began to set, long shadows stretched between the trees. Zilan finally spotted something useful — a narrow cave hidden between two moss-covered boulders. It was small but dry, the entrance partly blocked by shrubs. Perfect for a night's shelter.
She set her things down, untied the rabbit, and began cleaning it with her dagger. The fire was quick to start, and soon the rich scent of roasting meat filled the cave. Zilan ate slowly, savoring the warmth in her stomach after the long day. She stopped halfway, leaving the rest of the meat untouched.
This will be for tomorrow's trap, she decided, wrapping the leftover in a cloth. Meat this fresh, combined with the anaesthetic paste, would be irresistible bait.
Tomorrow, she would search for signs of bigger prey — and when she found them, the real hunt would begin.
Outside, faint footsteps broke the stillness of the forest night. They were slow, deliberate, and too heavy to be from a small animal.
Zilan's ears sharpened, and a strange smile tugged at her lips. In the dim firelight, her gaze flicked to the cave's entrance — where two black silhouettes slowly emerged from the mist