Chapter 307: Autumn Hunt

Thanks to the soybeans distributed by the government, those who had eaten all sorts of messy things finally started to feel better.

Honestly, regardless of anything else, even just one jin of soybeans was enough to keep a person full for two or three days, maybe even longer.

That day, Zhou Daming and his group were preparing to head into the mountains to hunt. The weather was getting colder by the day, and once winter truly set in, hunting would become far more difficult. Some animals would start to hibernate, so they needed to take advantage of this time, before winter fully arrived, to catch as much as they could.

Autumn was the best season for hunting.

During autumn, many wild animals enter their last fattening period before the breeding season, which makes them more active and easier to catch as they search for food. Moreover, autumn is also migration season for many animals, giving hunters the chance to wait along migration routes and take their pick.

Ever since Zhou Dafu, their lucky charm, stopped hunting with them, Zhou Daming and the others had seen a noticeable decline in their harvests.

One could only say that Zhou Dafu really was born with good fortune.

At first, everyone had assumed that guy would accept his fate and stay obediently in the village after getting cheated out of his money. Who would’ve thought not only did he get the money back, but Zhou Yimin even arranged a factory job for him—he even became a truck driver, the kind people envied.

The village youths were incredibly envious. All of them were thinking about getting their parents to talk to Zhou Yimin, hoping they could also be arranged into the factory—ideally, as truck drivers too.

But the moment that thought left their mouths, their parents shut it down before it even had a chance to develop.

Something that’s offered by someone else and something you ask for yourself—those are two completely different things.

Everyone was afraid of annoying Yimin and getting on his bad side, so no one dared to trouble him directly.

When Zhou Yimin saw Zhou Daming and the others carrying hunting rifles, getting ready to head into the mountains, he suddenly remembered that since he had come to this world, he hadn’t actually gone hunting in the mountains himself. He stepped forward and asked, “Daming, do you think I could come along?”

He definitely wouldn’t dare go in alone. Unlike in the future, the mountains now were full of large wild animals.

But joining a group to have a bit of fun—now that was doable.

Zhou Daming quickly replied, “Of course you can, Sixteenth Uncle.”

Right now, everyone in the village wanted to get closer to Zhou Yimin. If he was happy and arranged for you to enter the factory, well—that was it. You’d be set.

But going into the mountains to hunt wasn’t something you did casually. There were plenty of unspoken rules, like not hunting pregnant animals or animals in heat.

In ancient times, there were even strict regulations against hunting such animals.

And during organized hunts, it was important not to go overboard—never hunt every last animal. There needed to be a balance, leaving room for reproduction and maintaining ecological equilibrium.

In some regions, there were entire rituals to be performed before hunting, such as offerings to the gods, prayers, opening and sealing of the mountains, and thanksgiving ceremonies, all to seek divine protection and favor.

When the old village secretary heard that Zhou Yimin was going into the mountains for fun, he personally came over to instruct Zhou Daming and the others.

“Make sure you protect your Sixteenth Uncle. If anything happens to him, don’t even bother coming back,” he said sternly.

Zhou Daming and the others patted their chests and promised to bring their Sixteenth Uncle back safe and sound.

The group headed into the mountains. However, Zhou Daming and his group mostly hunted on the outskirts, where you’d typically find pheasants or rabbits. If they wanted to catch larger wild animals, they’d have to go deep into the mountains.

Zhou Daming originally wanted to hand the village’s hunting rifle to Zhou Yimin. “Sixteenth Uncle, you should take a rifle too. It’s safer.”

“No need, I’ve got one,” Zhou Yimin replied, pulling out a pistol from behind.

In the village, Zhou Yimin could afford to be a bit bold—he didn’t need to worry about being reported for pulling something like that out.

That was also why he preferred staying in Zhoujiazhuang. It was freer, more comfortable.

When the others saw Zhou Yimin’s pistol, they were all filled with envy. After all, pistols were typically reserved for officers. Regular soldiers only used rifles.

Since they’d entered the mountains in the morning and wouldn’t come out until near nightfall, they’d brought food with them—mostly dry rations like sweet potatoes, corn cakes, and steamed corn buns.

Zhou Yimin had a backpack, but no one knew what he’d packed inside.

“I heard from Dafu that there’ve been tiger sightings in the mountains—is that true?” Zhou Yimin asked.

Zhou Daming rolled his eyes. “That brat Zhou Dafu’s full of nonsense. Believe maybe ten percent of what he says, tops.”

“Even if there are tigers, they wouldn’t show up this close to the edge of the mountain. We’ll head to the little pond up ahead and see if we can spot any animals coming to drink.”

He had no idea how many times he’d been in and out of the mountains. He wouldn’t say he knew them like the back of his hand, but he definitely had a solid grasp.

No one in the group objected to Zhou Daming’s plan.

Everyone knew that little pond—it was the only water source nearby. If any animals on the outskirts needed water, they’d definitely end up there. If they were lucky enough to run into a few pheasants or rabbits, they could pack up and go home early.

What could be better than that? No risk, and a full haul.

The only downside was that the pond was a bit far from the village. Otherwise, the villagers would’ve already incorporated it into the village’s water supply.

As they were making their way to the pond, a sudden series of “Bang! Bang! Bang!” rang out.

“What was that? Sounds like gunshots—but also kind of doesn’t,” Zhou Yimin said, confused.

Zhou Daming thought for a moment. “Judging from the intervals, it sounds like an old cannon gun.”

The “old cannon gun” was a type of firearm, but unlike rifles, it had to be loaded with gunpowder and iron pellets—or steel balls, though steel balls were precious now, and most folks wouldn’t waste them. They’d usually use iron scraps as substitutes.

Experienced hunters knew that even the fastest could only fire one shot from an old cannon gun every thirty to forty seconds. And once you fired, you usually left the area immediately. It was rare to fire twice in a row, let alone three times.

“Sixteenth Uncle, should we go help?” Zhou Daming asked.

“Help?” Zhou Yimin asked in confusion.

Zhou Daming explained, “That guy must be in serious trouble. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have fired three shots in a row with an old cannon gun. Usually, after one shot, you get out of there.”

“What are you waiting for then? Let’s go!” Zhou Yimin instantly understood, and didn’t hesitate for a second.

A life could be on the line.

With Zhou Yimin’s command, the group immediately rushed toward the direction of the gunfire, fearing they’d be too late and someone would get killed.

Everyone started running.

Then another bang echoed through the mountains.

Five or six minutes later, they finally reached the source of the sound.

At that moment, someone pointed ahead. “Sixteenth Uncle, Brother Daming—look, there’s someone over there!”

Everyone looked in the direction he was pointing, and sure enough, they saw a middle-aged man lying on the ground. His chest was still rising and falling, but there was a lot of blood on the ground. It was unclear whether it belonged to the man or to some large wild animal.

“What are you still looking at? Hurry up and save him!” Zhou Yimin finally snapped out of it.

Zhou Daming and the others reacted as well. Everyone grabbed their hunting rifles, loaded them, and got ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Just to be safe, Zhou Yimin also pulled out his pistol. He quickly ran over to the middle-aged man and asked, “Comrade, are you alright?”

Everyone gathered around, surrounding Zhou Yimin and the man in the middle, guarding against any attack from a large wild animal.

The middle-aged man slowly opened his eyes and weakly warned, “There’s a herd of wild boars. Be very careful.”

Hearing that made everyone even more alert.

The herd must have been scared off for the moment by the sound of Lao Pao Tong’s gunfire, but they probably hadn’t gone far.

Zhou Daming asked, “Uncle Sixteen, should we leave now, or should we take them down?”

If they could take down the herd, they’d strike it rich.

Even wild boar meat was worth a whole yuan per jin now. A single wild boar could easily weigh a hundred to two hundred jin—that’s a hundred to two hundred yuan. If there was a whole herd, they could easily make over a thousand.

Everyone except Zhou Yimin was tempted. A thousand yuan—none of them had ever seen that much money in their lives.

Zhou Yimin had originally wanted to suggest they leave, but then he saw the wild boars slowly surrounding them. It looked like leaving wasn’t an option anymore—they’d have to fight.

To avoid wasting bullets, no one fired randomly. They waited until the boars came closer. That way, they’d have a better chance of hitting their targets and saving ammo. Bullets weren’t cheap nowadays either.

Each bullet cost about six cents—enough to buy a whole jin of vegetables.

The herd kept getting closer, and Zhou Yimin, erring on the side of caution, shouted, “Open fire!”

Zhou Daming and the others had been planning to wait a bit longer to let the boars get even closer—riskier, yes, but better for accuracy. Still, since Zhou Yimin had already given the order, they had to go along with it.

He fired the first shot, aiming straight at a big wild boar’s head. It hit, but the boar didn’t go down. Instead, it went berserk.

A pistol really wasn’t the best weapon for hunting wild boars.

Some of them had incredibly thick hides—not easy to penetrate at all.

Typically, a wild boar’s skin could be more than a centimeter thick. In some rare cases, it could reach up to two centimeters.

That kind of thickness made them top-tier among mid- to large-sized animals.

And unlike domestic pigs, wild boars didn’t have smooth, soft skin. Theirs was covered in fine granular bumps and deep brownish wrinkles.

It was tough and durable—almost impossible to cut without special tools. That’s why people in ancient times used wild boar hides to make armor.

Those familiar with wild boars knew that they loved wallowing in mud. Male boars especially would spend lots of time rubbing their flanks against stumps, rocks, or hard riverbanks, toughening their hides into natural armor.

Zhou Yimin quickly fired a few more shots. The boar finally collapsed, thrashing about before gradually growing weaker.

“Take down the biggest one!” Zhou Yimin shouted.

That one was clearly the leader—it even had tusks.

There’s a saying: “Catch the ringleader first to break the gang.” It’s the same with wild animals. If you don’t kill the leader, the rest will charge fearlessly. But once the leader is dead, it’s like losing their spine—they’ll lose the will to fight.

Everyone listened to Zhou Yimin. They turned their guns toward the biggest boar.

In truth, that boar wasn’t even that big. If it had been a five- or six-hundred-jin monster, Zhou Yimin wouldn’t have dared provoke it. Getting rammed by one of those? You’d be lucky to survive, let alone walk away.

The leader of the herd let out a sharp squeal and charged at them.

“Dashan, flank it and shoot!” Zhou Daming ordered.

Zhou Dashan responded and ran to the side. He took aim at the boar’s eye and fired three quick shots.

That roughly four-hundred-jin wild boar collapsed just seven or eight meters from Zhou Yimin’s group.

Once the big boar went down, the rest of the herd scattered in a panic.

But Zhou Daming and the others weren’t there just for show. They chased and fired as they went.

About an hour later, they’d wiped out most of the herd.

“We’ve already brought down this many boars—no need to go overboard,” Zhou Yimin said.

The others had been in full battle mode, but once he spoke, they realized they’d run out of bullets. Even if they wanted to keep going, it wasn’t happening.

They started heading back, gathering the wild boar carcasses.

When they got back to their original spot, nearly twenty boars were piled up—it was a sight to behold.

Besides the boars, there were two clueless roe deer.

They must’ve wandered in to see what all the commotion was about and got taken out in the crossfire.

This wasn’t a time for “aww, how cute.” Meat was meat.

The middle-aged man had recovered quite a bit by now and said, “Thank you all so much. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have made it out alive today.”

His injuries weren’t that serious—just a hit from one of the boars. At first, it felt like his insides had been scrambled, like he was about to cough up his soul. But after some rest, he could more or less sit up.

Zhou Yimin waved his hand and smiled. “Comrade, where are you from? What were you doing out here hunting alone?”

Everyone knew solo hunting in the mountains was dangerous.

The man replied, “I’m a villager from Daheng. I came to hunt, hoping to improve my family’s meals a bit, but I nearly lost my life.”

Before he came, he’d planned on catching a boar or a pheasant.

He never expected to run into a herd of wild boars.

He didn’t dare provoke them, but they seemed like they were on steroids—charged at him the moment they saw him. He climbed a tree, but they knocked it over.

He didn’t dodge fast enough and got flung aside by one of them.

With no other choice, he fired his gun.

Luckily, the sound scared them off temporarily.

He was helpless, unable to move, convinced he was about to die. If the boars had come back, it would’ve been over for him. Thank God help arrived in time.

“Can you walk?” Zhou Yimin asked.

“No problem. I feel a lot better now.”

Zhou Yimin said, “Uncle, pick one of the wild boars to take home with you.”

They had so many that giving one away didn’t matter.

And they wouldn’t have run into the herd if not for the man’s earlier gunshot.

The man gave a bitter smile. “How could I accept your prey?”

“What are you saying? If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have seen this herd at all. Don’t argue—just take one,” Zhou Yimin said.

The others didn’t object once Uncle Sixteen had spoken.

“Yeah! We owe you.”

Unable to refuse their kindness, the man picked the smallest one—less than a hundred jin. It was just the right size to carry home.

(End of Chapter)