Brian Brooks, who was following right behind them, was greatly surprised. With such a massive wild boar king, four or five ordinary hunting dogs wouldn’t even be enough for it to chew on—if a single dog pounced, it would most likely be instantly killed by those tusks. Brian Brooks had seen scenes like this before. The woman clicked her tongue in amazement and said, “There’s a saying: one boar, two bears, three tigers—the wild boar is the fiercest, followed by the black bear, and lastly the tiger. I remember my grandfather saying that the wild boars in the pine forest are the most terrifying, because they often scratch themselves on pine trees that secrete sticky resin, and after rolling in the dirt, it’s like they’re wearing armor—even bullets might not penetrate. I’m not wrong, am I, Adam?”

　　That wooden stick nodded and said, “You’re not wrong.”

　　Brian Brooks stroked his chin, growing genuinely curious about the background of this clever woman.

　　After a moment of silence, she suddenly asked, “How was such a wild boar king killed?”

　　The wooden-faced man in Brian Brooks’s eyes calmly uttered two words, “By hand.”

　　She fell silent again, displaying a composure that exceeded Brian Brooks’s expectations.

　　Brian Brooks couldn’t help but swallow, craning his neck to glance at Henry leading the way up ahead, wondering when that big oaf would also gain such extraordinary abilities. Who doesn’t wish for the kind of luck where one person’s success brings everyone up with them? Brian Brooks figured that maybe only Henry the fool didn’t have such thoughts. Sometimes, he thought people weren’t wrong to call Henry stupid.

　　Suddenly, a series of black dog barks came from the distance—deep, heavy, and full of vigor.

　　Big prey!

　　Brian Brooks and the big oaf’s expressions changed almost simultaneously, both excited and worried. Without these meddlesome rich folks around, he would risk everything for such a big-money opportunity. But with this group present, if someone ended up with a broken arm or leg, Brian Brooks couldn’t afford the compensation even if he sold everything he owned. Wild boars don’t care if you’re a rich man’s son or an official’s kid—they’ll just gore you to death. Even if Brian Brooks killed every wild boar piglet in the whole mountain range, it wouldn’t help. Thinking this through, Brian Brooks dashed forward, weaving nimbly through the jungle, making that woman look at him with newfound respect.

　　Standing nearly two meters tall, even with a well-proportioned and strong build, the big oaf Henry still gave off a bulky, clumsy impression. Yet, even wielding a giant bow, he moved like an agile leopard, darting out immediately and, remarkably, without a sound—like a wildcat prowling the night. He and Brian Brooks sped toward the source of the black dog’s barking, one after the other.

　　In the dense forest, a boar and a dog glared at each other in a standoff. The black dog, which looked no different from an ordinary mutt, crouched low, its eyes wolf-like.

　　This was a truly gigantic wild boar, with two massive, razor-sharp tusks, growling in a low voice. Although a single dog wasn’t enough to threaten its life, faced with such blatant provocation, its stubborn nature wouldn’t let it ignore the challenge. The big oaf crouched behind a pine tree, conveniently downwind, already holding a bow and arrow. The light in the pine forest was dim, making the ancient, dark yellow ox-horn bow stand out even more. To make such a giant bow, those ox horns must have been rare indeed.

　　Brian Brooks crouched behind him and exclaimed, “Goodness, it must weigh at least 450 jin. I really don’t know if we’re unlucky or lucky to run into it today. Henry, are you confident? There’s still a bunch of pampered city kids behind us. If you’re not sure, I’ll have ‘Black Jackal’ lure the beast away—no need to risk our lives for five or six hundred yuan.”

　　The big oaf smiled and held up three fingers.

　　Brian Brooks frowned and said, “Are you sure three arrows are enough?”

　　The big oaf nodded. His smiling face looked especially simple and honest, but his eyes held a wildness that ordinary people couldn’t understand. If that detail-oriented woman saw it, she’d definitely say that wasn’t the look of a fool.

　　Brian Brooks gritted his teeth and said, “Then I’ll use ‘Black Jackal’ and myself as bait. You wait for the right moment.”

　　The big oaf shook his head, turned, and glanced behind them—toward the group of rich young men and women. Brian Brooks understood what he meant: Henry wanted to use them as bait. Sighing, he said, “Henry, their lives are worth more than ours. Since you’re confident, let me do it. Besides, if you mess up, at least I’ll have a chance to survive—‘Black Jackal’ is still with me, after all. I won’t die.”

　　The big oaf kept smiling, but stubbornly shook his head again.

　　Seeing that the group of pampered youths—probably seeing a wild boar for the first time—was almost there, Brian Brooks had no desire to persuade this stubborn ox. He just charged out, put his middle finger to his lips, and blew a sharp whistle. The black dog, which had been tangling with the wild boar, immediately retreated and ran toward Brian Brooks. Man and dog sprinted together, perfectly in sync.

　　Almost at the same time, the big oaf sprang into action—bending his arm, drawing the bow, aiming—all in one smooth, natural motion, as if he’d already anticipated Brian Brooks’s move.

　　At this moment, everyone except these two brothers happened to catch a glimpse of the big oaf’s back: a burly figure, thick arms drawing a giant horn bow, the bow fully drawn like a full moon, radiating a wild, innate energy. In the dim light, he looked as majestic as a god of war.

　　Stunned silence.