The Entire Mountain Is My Hunting Ground

Since the method was passed down from his grandfather, Zhao Jun knew more about it than anyone. He told Wei Tie that if he wanted to use a bullet to "suppress" Pang Li’s illness, one from a semi-automatic rifle wouldn’t do.

"You have to use a cartridge from a 16-gauge shotgun," he explained. "The shells for a 16-gauge are reloaded. Only a shell that’s been filled with powder and used to kill prey time and again will carry that intangible killing intent."

After listening, Wei Tie thought for a moment, then asked Zhao Jun, "Brother, who around here has a 16-gauge?"

"Brother Tie, go look for Chen Dalai. That’s the gun he uses." Zhao Jun actually gave him a solid lead.

"Alright. Thanks, brother. I’ll get going then." With that, Wei Tie took his leave.

But after just a few steps, he stopped short and called back to Zhao Jun.

Zhao Jun, who had already stepped inside, came back out. "What’s up now, Brother Tie?"

Wei Tie raised a hand, pointing toward the yard of Zhao Jun’s house. "Is that white dog Wang Dalong’s?"

"Yeah," Zhao Jun nodded. "His Dog Gang broke up, so I bought the dog from him."

"Ah!" Hearing this, Wei Tie nodded, then got back to the real reason he’d stopped. "Brother, day before yesterday I was up the mountain checking my traps and saw a sounder of boars."

"Where at?" The mention of wild boars immediately piqued Zhao Jun’s interest.

Wei Tie said, "Up from the old firewood depot, over by the stretch that borders Forest Class 48."

"How many? And how big?" Zhao Jun pressed.

"At least seven or eight," Wei Tie replied. "I’d say the big one has to be over three hundred jin, and the small, yellow-haired ones are probably seventy or eighty jin each."

"Got it. Thanks, Brother Tie."

After seeing Wei Tie off, Zhao Jun turned and went back into Baoyu’s house to tell Li Baoyu they were going up the mountain for a hunt the next day.

...

The next day, since they were hunting wild boar and not squirrels, they didn’t have to get up so early. The two of them left home at eight-thirty and headed into the mountains, following Wei Tie’s directions.

That day, a strong wind howled through the forest.

Li Baoyu kept his head down, shouting to be heard over the wind, "Brother, why’d we come out on a day like this?"

"What do you know?" Zhao Jun retorted. "This is perfect weather for stalking boars."

When they reached the area near the old firewood depot, they found the boar tracks. It was just as Wei Tie had described: a sounder of seven or eight. The largest hoof prints suggested a boar of around three hundred jin.

But the tracks didn’t lead in a single direction; they went both ways.

Li Baoyu looked at Zhao Jun. "Brother, which way should we follow?"

It was clear the sounder had been moving back and forth through this spot. There were tracks heading east and tracks heading west.

Which way to go?

Zhao Jun stood in the middle of the path, glanced to either side, and asked Li Baoyu, "Baoyu, where do you think the boars are?"

Li Baoyu pondered for a moment, then looked up the slope to the west. "Probably up on the sunny side of the ridge?"

"Exactly," Zhao Jun said with a smile. "Now guess where on that slope they’re holed up."

Li Baoyu froze, staring at the hillside without a word.

Zhao Jun grinned and pointed to the mountainside. "If there’s a Bojiwaizi up there, that’s where the boars will be."

"Ah!" Li Baoyu slapped his hands together. "Of course! It’s a windbreak!"

Don’t ever think pigs are stupid. Wild boars are clever animals.

In winter, they know how to stay out of the cold. They’ll usually spend their time on a sun-drenched slope.

Last night, they would have gone up the western slope, because when the sun rises in the east, it shines directly on it.

And windy or not, they always try to find a place to rest that’s sheltered from the wind.

Just as Zhao Jun had said, if there was a Bojiwaizi on this slope, the boars would surely be holed up inside it.

"Baoyu, stay behind me, and keep your distance," Zhao Jun told him. He slung his rifle off his shoulder, held it at the ready, and started striding up the ridge.

They went up the slope one after the other. Li Baoyu did exactly as he was told, staying a good thirty meters behind Zhao Jun as they slowly made their way up.

Wild boars aren’t like roe deer; they aren’t curious. At the slightest disturbance, they’ll bolt and won’t stop running until it’s time to forage in the afternoon.

One person moving alone was definitely safer and quieter than two.

Zhao Jun pressed forward. He soon saw a depression in the terrain ahead, a hollow that made the mountainside look like a winnowing basket. This was the feature the mountain folk called a Bojiwaizi.

Zhao Jun continued onward. Ahead, under a large Korean pine, he saw the tell-tale signs of a boar’s wallow. He scanned the area left and right before creeping forward again.

There were several oak trees up ahead. Zhao Jun figured the boars were over there, rooting for acorns in the snow.

The wind howled through the woods, making the branches whip about. Zhao Jun crept forward on silent feet when he suddenly saw movement ahead. He immediately ducked behind a nearby tree.

Peeking out, he fixed his gaze and saw her: a hundred-odd meters away, a sow was rooting through the snow with her snout.

She unearthed an acorn from under the snow and chomped down on it with a loud CRUNCH.

Just as Zhao Jun started to raise his rifle, the sow suddenly started walking west. He followed her with his eyes and spotted another one—a Little Yellow, just over a hundred jin.

’Not yet.’ Zhao Jun thought for a moment, lowered his rifle, and crouched down, slowly making his way forward and to the left.

There was an oak tree there, but the snow all around it had been thoroughly churned up.

Zhao Jun reached the oak and quickly ducked behind its trunk, peering out again.

This time he got a clear look. There were seven boars in total. One was a cannon egg, and it had to be upwards of three hundred jin.

In addition, there were two old sows leading four Little Yellows.

Hunting is like fishing; once you reach a certain level, it’s not about the food anymore. Though the meat of an old sow is delicious, when a Hunter raises his rifle, his sights are always set on the biggest one.

Zhao Jun raised his rifle and aimed at the Big Cannon Egg. But just as his hand moved to flick off the safety, he froze.

He lowered the rifle’s muzzle and continued to creep forward.

Seeing this from behind, Li Baoyu was so frightened he stopped dead in his tracks, not daring to even breathe. He knew what Zhao Jun was doing—he was trying to get right into the middle of the sounder.

Zhao Jun kept low, his head down, advancing one step at a time. Despite the howling wind, he kept his ears pricked, listening intently.

A faint CRUNCHING drifted on the wind—the sound of boars chewing acorns. There was also a soft "HUFF... HUFF..." sound, the heavy breathing of a large boar.

Zhao Jun crept another ten meters forward when suddenly, one of the sows pulled its snout out of the snow. Its nose twitched, and it let out a sharp "SNUFF... SNUFF..."

’Is it smelling something?’

No, the boar had heard something.

Still crouched, Zhao Jun instantly dropped to his knees in the snow. At the same moment, he plunged his head down into a snowdrift.

He was dressed in a white overcoat. Although he had on a dog-fur hat, Wang Meilan had sewn a white cloth cover for it, which he wore on the outside.

Now, hunched over and lying prone, his all-white figure blended perfectly with the snow.

The sow sniffed the air, its little eyes darting about. When it heard nothing further, it once again let out a low "HUFF... HUFF..."

The moment he heard that sound, Zhao Jun lifted his head from the snow, got to his feet, and started walking forward again.

And just like that, he walked right into the middle of the sounder.