Speaking of hunting, Malin could now easily take on a guest appearance as a native hunter in this world without any issues.
After all, he now had four World Tree Saplings, a litter of leopards and a bear—any one of them could easily suppress the combat pets of those hunters.
As for Tech Hunters, they need not even be ntioned, for they were actually Transcendents rather than native professions, usually lacking combat pets. Even if they did have a side job, they would prefer scouting pets over combat ones due to the nature of their secondary occupation.
But Malin was different. Not to ntion the extraordinary existence of the World Tree Saplings, Spotty was a very standard combat pet, capable of both fighting and scouting.
However, the human world’s hunters had declined, and it had been a long ti since a high-level human hunter had erged. Hunters were typically chosen by Dwarves, and although Elves had Rangers, their system was not the sa as that of the hunters. Rangers had Spell Formations, while hunters relied more on their bows and firearms.
Then, Tech Hunters could make better use of firearms, and in adventures in the Dark Zone, combat pets beca very vulnerable in the face of Chaos, chanical bodies, and zombies, making it very awkward for hunters.
That’s also why the native profession of human hunters was in decline.
However, there was still a legacy, as the Ranger’s Guild in the human world generally maintained the legacy of the hunter profession.
So when Moriti’s second son, along with his family and a large pack of hunting dogs, joined Malin’s hunting party, his dogs had no temper left when faced with Spotty and the reserve rations.
At first, when the hunting dogs saw Spotty with her cubs, they dared to semi-circlingly demonstrate their force, but once the reserve rations stood before them, they lost all courage—the hunting dogs weren’t stupid; with the reserve rations protecting the cubs, Spotty could use her power as a Spirit to devour them whole.
If Spotty had been a wild Spirit, the dogs might have had the courage to fight back against her attack, but as Spotty stood by humans just like them, the training of the hunting dogs led them to choose peace over conflict.
"Truly an excellent combat pet, Mr. Malin," exclaid Moriti’s second son, while his eldest son seed sowhat proud, but he still showed respect to Malin, "Father, Mr. Malin’s combat pet is unique; compared to it, our hunting dogs are also excellent, but indeed, they cannot be compared with a combat pet that is a Spirit."
"I rely keep them, but your family’s hunting dogs are very brave, and wise."
"Of course, I inherited these dogs’ ancestors from my grandfather," the elder said, glancing again at the small basket on the back of the reserve rations’ saddle where Spotty’s cubs were snoozing.
"Those little leopards, would Mr. Malin be willing to part with them?"
Spotty, walking by the side, imdiately lifted her head and glared fiercely at the old man.
The old man rely laughed it off, "Mr. Malin, you are young, if you were older, you would understand that children eventually grow up, they will go out to explore the world on their own, to face the storms."
Malin nodded, then glanced at Spotty to find the lady had lowered her head.
You’re too clever by half.
Malin felt this leopard was overly smart, but he shook his head regardless, "When Spotty t , she didn’t hesitate to defy for food. Her motherly love gave her the courage to confront ; therefore, I think I shouldn’t override her in deciding her children’s fate. Perhaps one day, the cubs will grow up, they might even exasperate Spotty and eventually be driven away by her, but until that day cos, they will remain Spotty’s children, and I, will defend her rights and duties as a mother."
In Malin’s eyes, the cubs were treasures Spotty would have sacrificed everything to keep, so he was absolutely not going to send them away.
"Mr. Malin’s compassion is truly admirable," said the old man with a smile.
Spotty purred contently, looking very pleased.
The guide ahead sent back news that they had found a small group of deer.
As soon as Malin saw the guide approaching, he took out his specialized pulley bow, a heavy type of bow made entirely of steel and only usable by giants. Malin had commissioned the Dwarves to make it; at first, the Dwarves thought it was a toy, but when they finished crafting the weapon, they realized they couldn’t even draw it.
But when Malin sent an arrow flying nearly horizontal to a distance of a hundred and twenty ters, he finally convinced them of his strength.
Then the bow earned itself a rather crude na—Giant’s Wrath.
The deer were on the plains behind a small hill. Malin dismounted from his provisions, told the big bear to stay put, and then, accompanied by Spotty and Faye, followed the old man and his large family, slowly moving to the top of the hill.
From here, everything was crystal clear. The group was quite far, nearly two hundred ters away, and the deer were completely unaware of their presence.
"Yellow deer," the old man sighed, "it’s them again, these creatures are everywhere. Speaking of which, Mr. Malin, have you ever eaten venison?"
"No, we don’t have such deer in Carterburg, and I prefer the taste of fish sausages," Malin replied with a smile. "However, I’ve heard about the Farole yellow deer ribs, touted as incomparable."
"That’s just exaggeration, Mr. Malin. The yellow deer here are just the most common type of deer. Because they are so plentiful, in my territory, even the destitute suffering from hunger can hunt them without the threat of whipping, as long as they consu the entire animal. They can eat the at in batches, but waste is absolutely not allowed, or else they’ll still be whipped."
"You are also very compassionate, sir," Malin remarked with a smile—Such practices were quite impressive in Farole, given that in nobles’ lands, everything, including people and nature, belonged to the nobility.
"I just don’t want my people to starve to death. As a noble, if I can’t ensure they’re well-fed, I don’t deserve to own any of this," the old man said, looking toward the prey. "My mother taught this. She told that becoming a noble is easy, just have good luck and be born into it, even if you’re a fool or a cripple, you can be a noble."
At this point, the old man looked at Malin: "My mother said that being a noble is nothing to be proud of. Only by being a noble whom the people trust, can you be a true noble."
"Sir, you speak the truth," Malin expressed with a smile.
This old man was indeed quite remarkable.
"Apologies, Mr. Malin, I spoke a bit out of turn. We are here to hunt, so how about you shoot the first arrow?"
"Certainly, I’ll heed your request," Malin replied and raised his pulley bow, then nocked and drew the arrow.
"Isn’t that too far?" whispered voices ca from the line of the old man’s grandchildren.
Malin aid, slightly adjusting his angle higher, then released the string.
Faye picked up the monocular telescope.
Malin smiled and put down the bow, then ran his right hand over Spotty.
The arrow, after flying nearly 200 ters, pierced through the head of a deer at the targeted spot and then penetrated the lung of another, ultimately bringing it down to the grass.
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