Chapter 39: The Lynx Falls into the Trap

Upon arriving at the mountain, Lin Yang returned to the same spot he had visited previously. He found a concealed corner, crouched down, and observed carefully for over half an hour. Just as he had anticipated, the lynx was still active in the vicinity. With the "Prey Locking" skill granted by the system continuously active, he knew the lynx was not stealthily trailing him.

"This old lynx must be getting on in years and has lost its ability to hunt, which is why it keeps hanging around here," Lin Yang muttered to himself while watching. "Let's see who can outlast whom!"

Animals that have lived in the mountains and forests for a long time often become exceptionally shrewd. A lynx is a treasure trove with immense medicinal value. Its meat, when dried and ground into powder, can treat certain mental illnesses. Its fur, when charred into ash and mixed with other medicines, can alleviate headaches and general body aches. Its pelt is even more precious; not only does it provide excellent protection against the cold, but a pristine, intact pelt is highly valuable on the market, and the hide itself can be used to treat lower back cold. Even its small intestine has proven efficacy in treating dysentery, acute gastroenteritis, and intestinal spasms.

Lin Yang found a relatively open and flat patch of snow. He set his hunting rifle aside gently, then carefully retrieved the old hen from his basket. Sensing danger, the hen began to cluck incessantly, flapping its wings frantically.

"Old hen, old hen," Lin Yang whispered, soothing it. "Just make a small sacrifice and help me lure a big catch!"

With that, he crouched down, scooped up two snowballs from the ground, and pulled a sharp small knife from his waistband. He gently slit the hen's throat, letting the warm blood drip slowly onto the snowballs, instantly staining the pristine white snow crimson. Next, he took several carefully prepared razor blades from his pocket and embedded them into the center of the snowballs, pressing the snow firm to ensure the blades remained hidden. He then coated the exterior with a thick layer of snow and wrapped the hen’s entrails and scraps inside to complete the bait.

He placed the unplucked hen over the trap he had set the day before and tossed the two prepared snowballs a short distance away around the trap. Having finished, Lin Yang shouldered his rifle and walked vigilantly toward the depths of the forest.

His luck seemed poor today; he encountered no game. He remained mindful not to venture too deep into the mountains. After all, the black bear that had injured someone at the timber yard had been driven off by the workers, and it might well be prowling nearby. The timber yard was not far from the village, and if the bear was looking for a new territory, it was likely roaming this very area. A black bear is not to be trifled with; with its immense strength, explosive power, and running speed far exceeding that of a human, Lin Yang had no desire to provoke such a beast.

By noon, the hunting rifle had not been fired once, though he had managed to bag three squirrels with his slingshot and raided two squirrel nests. During this time, he spotted a few pheasants and snow hares, but these creatures were too sharp; the moment they sensed movement, they vanished without a trace, leaving no time even for the system to lock onto them. Lin Yang did not bother chasing them; these startled animals were far too fast, and pursuit would be futile.

At midday, Lin Yang found a wind-sheltered mountain hollow, gathered some dry wood, and started a fire. He skewered two squirrels on branches and roasted them. Before long, the meat began to sizzle and emit a fragrant aroma. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to bring any corn cakes when he left. While the pine-scented squirrel meat tasted decent, the lack of a staple food left his stomach growling after only a few bites.

"Sigh, without a real meal, just eating meat doesn't do the trick," he grumbled to himself while gnawing on the squirrel meat. "I mustn't forget to pack some next time I go hunting."

Just as he finished the meat and took a drink of water, his ears twitched. He caught the faint sound of a low growl. Instantly alert, he stood up, gripped his rifle tightly, flipped the safety off, and rested his index finger lightly on the trigger, eyes scanning the direction of the sound. His breathing quickened, and his heart hammered against his ribs.

He grabbed his basket and hurried toward the source of the noise. It was coming from exactly where he had set his trap. His heart leapt—could it have worked?

When he was four or five hundred meters away, he saw the lynx, over a meter long, snarling furiously by the trap. Blood was streaming from its mouth; the partially licked snowball on the ground was indeed the trap he had set. The razor blades had sliced deep into its tongue.

*Stay calm, you must stay calm! Don't be impulsive!* Lin Yang warned himself. He immediately dropped onto the snow, using the surrounding shrubs and drifts as cover, his eyes locked on the lynx's every move. He could feel his heart racing, as if it might burst through his chest.

The trap he had devised was simple, relying on the beast's instinctual reaction to the scent of blood. Generally, only a beast that had lost its ability to hunt or was starving would risk licking a blood-stained snowball. Because the tongue would gradually go numb from constant licking, the animal would not immediately notice the sharp blades cutting into it. The constant flow of blood would only stimulate the beast to lick more frantically, eventually leading to death by blood loss. This old lynx, though clever, was truly famished.

Although it had realized the danger in time, its tongue was already severely injured, and blood continued to pour out. The droplets fell onto the snow, staining the white ground with spots of red. The lynx seemed to sense its impending doom; instead of fleeing, it roared even more frantically. The sound echoed through the silent forest, chilling to the bone. Its eyes, filled with violence and ferocity, burned like twin flames as they scanned the surroundings.

Lin Yang lay on the snow, not daring to take a full breath, his hands gripping the rifle, the barrel aimed steadily at the lynx. Yet, he did not rush to pull the trigger. He knew well that this old lynx was experienced and might launch a desperate final struggle to take the hunter down with it.

He needed to wait. With the patience of a seasoned hunter, he waited for the perfect moment.

Lin Yang stared intensely at the lynx. As long as it did not actively attack or attempt to run, he would not fire. He wanted a complete pelt, and the value would be significantly higher if it remained intact. At this distance of four or five hundred meters, he wasn't entirely certain he could strike a lethal blow with one shot. If he just fired wildly and ruined the precious fur, the price would drop drastically. He had been "robbed" by this cunning beast once before and would not take such a risk again.

Lin Yang still harbored resentment over that previous encounter, but he knew that what he had done back then was far too reckless. Reborn into this life, he had no intention of throwing his life away in these mountains so easily.

Time ticked by. The snow beneath Lin Yang began to melt from his body heat. The icy meltwater seeped into his cotton-padded jacket, and the cold spread, bit by bit. He could feel his body temperature dropping. He couldn't help but put his fingers to his mouth, blowing hot breath on them, trying to restore sensation and prevent them from becoming completely frostbitten.

Half an hour passed in the long wait. The lynx seemed to have exhausted its strength and ceased its restless pacing. Its growls grew weaker, becoming feeble. After struggling for a few more minutes, the lynx finally collapsed with a thud.

Lin Yang felt a surge of joy. Just as he was about to stand up, a warning from an old hunter flashed through his mind.