The Ironclad Tiger didn’t chase after him. As a level-five wild beast, its intelligence wasn’t low—it sensed a certain threat from this person.

It merely took two symbolic steps forward, watching him leave. Only when it saw him retreat more than two hundred meters away did it let out an angry roar, then turned around and swaggered off into the grass.

“This prime spot has been taken by that guy,” Andrew Brooks sighed angrily. Still, the fact that there was no conflict between the two predators was a small blessing amid misfortune.

The next moment, a thought struck him: if both the Ironclad Tiger and I can recognize this as the best hunting ground, wouldn’t the Thunder Deer know as well?

Of course the Thunder Deer would know. Thinking of this, he even felt a bit smug. Silly tiger, you just keep waiting there—meanwhile, I’ll find a patch of grass that’s not so dense—just enough to hide myself.

He looked around and spotted a small clump of shrubs by the river about a kilometer away. Carrying his iron pot, he headed over, hoping to hide there.

Unexpectedly, when he was still seven or eight hundred meters from the shrubs, someone emerged from within, with a few twigs stuck on their body. The person raised a hand, and an ice arrow landed just a meter in front of him.

The meaning was clear: I got here first, so go elsewhere. If you don’t take the hint, don’t blame me for being rude.

Andrew Brooks shook his head, finding it a bit amusing. So, it turns out the hunting grounds here are divided up, each with their own territory.

But since that’s the case, he came up with his own plan—can’t I just claim a hunting ground for myself?

So he made a round of the surrounding vegetation, and when he returned, he was carrying a huge bundle of branches and leaves on his back, spreading out at least four or five meters wide.

Along this river in the Crimson Valley, there were plenty of places with dense foliage, but also many open areas. Andrew Brooks figured the Thunder Deer would also think that dense foliage wasn’t very safe.

So, he decided to do the opposite.

He planted the branches and leaves on an open spot by the river, creating a relatively sparse cover that didn’t look too conspicuous.

At this point, he wasn’t even thinking about whether he could hunt the Thunder Deer. With wild beasts and hunters all around, at least for a while, he wasn’t in a hurry to go after the Thunder Deer.

So he set up his big pot, using it like a turtle shell to block others’ view. At the same time, he took out a set of fishing gear from his Sumeru Ring, calmly sorted it out, and began fishing by the river.

But the fishing gear from Earth really wasn’t up to the task—the fishing line kept getting bitten off one after another. In a fit of frustration, Andrew Brooks simply tied the hook to a steel wire—let’s see if you can still bite through that.

Good things come to those who refuse to give up. By the afternoon, he’d caught two breams that could shoot water jets—one weighing over three jin, the other nearly five.

He happily dragged the two fish ashore. You know, these were also level-one weak wild beasts. Just the fish meat alone could probably fetch about two spirit coins in the city.

Andrew Brooks didn’t plan to sell the fish; he intended to eat them himself.

Staking out here for three to five days, he’d need something to fill his stomach, right? In fact, for him now, this mission was certainly profitable, but focusing only on making money and neglecting cultivation wouldn’t do.

The spiritual energy in the wild couldn’t compare to that in inns or daily rentals, but it was still far better than on Earth. Plus, with the nourishment from wild beast meat, whether he returned to the city or not didn’t really matter.

But later in the afternoon, a fiercer wild beast appeared in the river. Just as Andrew Brooks was about to pull his third fish ashore, he suddenly felt the line go slack. A beast over three meters long appeared in the river and snatched the fish right off the hook.

Andrew Brooks reeled in the line, only to find that even the steel wire had been bitten through.

That night, he rested about two hundred meters from the riverbank. As usual, he lit a big fire, cleaned and gutted the three-jin fish, and roasted it over the flames—using seasonings from Earth.

While the fish was roasting, shadowy figures appeared nearby. As it neared readiness, he could even hear the sound of people drooling, but in the end, no one dared rush up and ask to share a bite.

Naturally, Andrew Brooks enjoyed it all by himself. But just as he stuffed the last piece of fish into his mouth, someone shouted from afar, “Hey, save me some… I’ll pay whatever you want!”

The voice sounded familiar. After thinking for a moment, Andrew Brooks realized—damn, wasn’t this the middle-aged man from yesterday?

But you’re too late—no point saying anything now.

The next moment, the middle-aged man dashed over to the fire. Seeing the pile of fish bones, he was stunned for a moment, then stomped his feet and pounded his chest, exclaiming, “Come on… I told you I’d pay whatever you wanted, so why didn’t you save me some?”

“When you spoke up, I only had that last piece left,” Andrew Brooks replied expressionlessly. He had a decent impression of this man, but… this was his food. Whether to sell it or not was his decision.

“Then help me roast some antelope meat,” the middle-aged man said, pulling out a horse leg from his storage bag.

Andrew Brooks sat there, not moving an inch.

Chapter 7: Restless Night