Day Seventy-Eight: Revenge of the Wild Boar (Part Two) – A Special Chapter for Daoist Sanwu

The fence had been knocked down in several places by wild boars, which was truly infuriating. I desperately wanted to find a way to reinforce it against their charges, but unfortunately, I could not think of a construction method robust enough to withstand such force.

Several trunks had even split under the impact. After replacing them, I lashed everything back together with vines. The fence’s design was simple, making repairs relatively easy—that was the only silver lining. While working, I pondered whether I could sharpen the ends of some trunks and stake them into the ground at an angle, resting them against the lower crossbar and pointing them outward. Perhaps that would deter the boars from charging head-on. However, the labor required was immense, far beyond what I could accomplish in the short term. If I tried to save time by widening the gaps between the stakes, the defense would become useless, as the boars could simply charge through the openings.

I shook my head in frustration, having dismissed my own idea almost as soon as I conceived it, and continued repairing the crossbar.

The repairs took less than an hour, but the trap needed to be reset. Last time, the slipknot had failed, allowing the boar to struggle free. This time, I tied the knot much tighter, even adding a second one to ensure that once the animal was snared, it would have no chance of escape. As it thrashed, the knot would only tighten further until it suffocated. I felt confident in this setup, as the previous attempt had been halfway successful. If the beast charged in again, it would be its own bad luck.

I lined the area around the trap with branches to force the boar into the only available path. Of course, this wasn't about hunting for sport; it was about self-defense. If a pack of boars suddenly breached the yard, I couldn't guarantee they wouldn't storm the treehouse—a scenario that would spell certain disaster.

A confrontation inside the treehouse would leave me with only two choices: kill the beast with a single shot or engage in a life-or-death struggle. My previous victory had been pure luck, and I felt the sow I faced back then hadn't been nearly as vicious as today's boar. Those blood-red eyes were absolutely terrifying.

With such ferocity and intent to kill, a single bite from that boar could have torn the flesh right off my bones. Its speed and weight were unimaginable. Even now, the memory of seeing it charge like a missile sent shivers down my spine.

Thankfully, it was dead. My first time firing a gun had nearly gone disastrously wrong; ammunition was scarce, and I had wasted a round. Fortunately, my wrist was only sprained and not seriously injured; aside from a dull ache, I was fine. I couldn't afford to waste the remaining bullets. I resolved never to fire blindly again. I hadn't realized a mere pistol could have such intense recoil; if I had dropped it, the consequences would have been dire. Next time, I would grip it firmly with both hands and keep my arms extended before pulling the trigger.

...

I lost count of how many times Xiao Hei had paced around me. I knew exactly what he wanted—food. I hadn't prepared anything since morning, having subsisted on only three shriveled fruits. But I had been overwhelmed with tasks.

Truth be told, I was starving, but the work I had been doing was critical. Now that it was finished, I could finally indulge him.

Seeing me head back toward the treehouse, Xiao Hei yelped with excitement, his tail wagging like a bamboo-copter; if he had gone any faster, he might have taken flight.

Upon returning to the treehouse, I nearly broke into a cold sweat. The broth in the pot was almost gone, leaving only a shimmering layer of oil bubbling at the bottom. Had I arrived any later, it would have scorched. Thank goodness Xiao Hei had come to get me. I quickly fished out two bones and poured in two bowls of water, narrowly saving the meal.

Xiao Hei was ready to pounce the moment he saw the bones. I had to endure his frantic begging while they cooled. They were leg bones filled with marrow, and even if the exterior had cooled, the insides remained dangerously hot. I ignored his protests, refusing to give them to him until I was sure he wouldn't get burned.

When they finally cooled, I tossed them to the ground. Xiao Hei lunged, grabbed one, and bolted, only to return a moment later to snatch the second one and dash away again.

"That guy... honestly!" I chuckled, shaking my head. I knew exactly what he was doing—he was afraid I might change my mind and steal his food.

The bone broth began to simmer again. Despite the near-disaster, it was saved. A thick layer of fat floated on top, and once I took the pot off the fire and added a pinch of salt for flavor, it was ready. I left the rest to the soy sauce; the meat on the bones would be bland, but it would be perfect for dipping. The aroma had been filling the air for a while, but I had been selectively ignoring it, trying to suppress the gnawing hunger.

That suppression had worked to keep my stomach quiet, but the moment I gave in, the hunger exploded. I couldn't wait; I even began blowing on the meat to cool it faster. The layer of fat on the broth prevented the heat from escaping, so I finally transferred the bones to a basin to speed up the process.

When I finally took the first bite, I nearly wept with gratitude. It was hard-won. I could barely stop myself from drooling. The pork was firm, and though I hadn't used a lid, the long cooking time made it tender. I threw everything else out of my mind, shoveling meat into my mouth and swallowing without pause. One, two, three bones—each was still packed with meat.

By the fourth bone, I began to feel the richness. Suddenly, the sensation of being over-satiated hit me like a splash of cold water, snapping me out of my ravenous state. I simply couldn't eat another bite.

Xiao Hei had been darting back and forth, having already made off with five bones. I thought I had seen him burying one in the yard earlier, and even now, he was scratching at the earth near a tree. I had no idea what he was up to.

Fed and watered, I walked around the yard until the heavy feeling in my stomach subsided. The sun had not yet set. I looked down at my tattered shoes—they could hardly be called shoes anymore, with half my toes exposed. I would have to find time to make a new pair, though finding a pair washed up on the beach would be even better.