Chapter Twenty-Five: The Little Fox’s Fighting Prowess

Wild boars are creatures whose ferocity is tinged with a certain timidity; when confronted by humans or large beasts, their first instinct is usually to flee. However, if provoked, or if the young among them are threatened, they will fight with reckless abandon.

Li Yunfei pondered quietly. Instances were a world apart from reality. Once inside, the monsters would be enhanced by the system—or rather, he himself would be weakened. Take ants and ground beetles, for example: in the real world, he could crush them with a finger, but in an instance, they could pose a genuine threat to him.

Moreover, monsters in the instances would attack on sight, never fleeing as they might in reality. Yet, because of this, the experience gained from slaying monsters in instances was much greater.

This wild boar forest was an instance designed for levels twenty-one to twenty-five. Entering now would be certain death. But what if he didn’t enter? The largest wild boar was only the size of a level-two ant monster; even a level-five soldier ant could easily slaughter this entire herd. As for the piglets, he could kill one with a single kick.

With the Corrosive Ant’s sharp bladed feet and the Paralyzing Ant Lion’s scythe in his possession, Li Yunfei could dispatch these boars as effortlessly as slicing through vegetables. Still, since the little fox had just reached level ten and he’d yet to see her in combat, perhaps it was time to let her test her strength against these boars.

Wild boars, though protected, were only so within reason. In certain regions of Daxia, when boars multiplied out of control and threatened human settlements, private hunting was forbidden but the government would organize culls to control their numbers. Farmers whose crops were damaged would be compensated, and there was even a special wildlife damage insurance policy to cover such losses.

Phoenix Township lay in a remote mountain area, and in many of the surrounding forests, wild boars had become rampant. In just two months, the government would sweep through the mountains to cull the herds. Dispatching a small group here would hardly cause a stir.

Having decided, Li Yunfei slid to the ground, rubbed the little fox’s head, and said, “Honghong, I haven't seen you fight yet! How about you go play with those boars?”

The little fox bounced excitedly, her four paws unsheathing claws as sharp as steel.

Grinning, Li Yunfei added, “Remember, only go after the big ones. Leave the piglets alone. Go on!”

Without hesitation, the little fox sprang from her hind legs and charged toward the herd several dozen meters away.

At the same time, Li Yunfei willed on his ant armor, and the Paralyzing Ant Lion’s scythe appeared in his hand. He followed at a brisk pace, plunging into the woods behind her.

As the little fox—a formidable presence—hurtled toward them, the wild boar herd scattered in panic, snorting and barreling into the depths of the forest.

From the commotion in the underbrush, there must have been dozens of wild boars in this group. This was the difference between reality and an instance: monsters in instances might make tactical retreats, but never outright flee.

Wild boars are astonishingly fast, capable of sudden bursts at speeds exceeding fifty or even sixty kilometers per hour. The fastest a normal human can run is barely thirty-seven or thirty-eight kilometers—catching a boar on foot would be impossible.

For Li Yunfei, however, his agility was more than three times that of an ordinary human; chasing down a wild boar posed no challenge. The little fox was on a whole other level. Even without knowing her exact stats, Li Yunfei was certain that, in her combat state, all her attributes surpassed his own—she was a beast, after all. Compared to her, the boars' speed was laughable.

Within seconds, the little fox leapt high and landed squarely atop a large boar, pinning it beneath her paws. This boar’s shoulder had to be eighty to ninety centimeters high, its body nearly one point seven to one point eight meters long. Yet, compared to the little fox, it seemed tiny—she flipped it easily onto its back.

Her razor-sharp claws raked the boar, leaving four long, deep gashes.

The boar let out a piercing, shrill scream, but it was cut short as the little fox delivered her second, fatal blow. She opened wide and bit down on the boar’s neck, tearing through its carotid artery and windpipe in one savage motion. Blood sprayed as the boar’s life ebbed away.

Though it didn’t die immediately, its end was only a matter of time.

The little fox left it to die and bounded after another.

Li Yunfei followed closely, providing support but not interfering, with his attention fixed on the little fox’s combat style.

Her technique was straightforward—claws and fangs—but her ferocity was impressive, and her efficiency in killing was high. A single swipe would leave wounds so deep the bone was visible; a blow to the belly could spill the boar’s entrails. She targeted vital points with her jaws, and once she struck, there was no need to finish the job—the boar would soon die from blood loss and asphyxiation.

Her strength and agility utterly overwhelmed the boars; their counterattacks were laughable in her eyes.

Thus, man and fox pursued the great herd, leaving a trail of mortally wounded boars at regular intervals.

Once the little fox had killed more than a dozen, Li Yunfei called a halt.

He’d seen all he wanted; there was no need to continue. Night was falling, and he dared not venture deeper into the woods—not knowing what else might lurk within.

After stopping the little fox, he put away the ant lion’s scythe, drew out his machete, and personally butchered one of the boars—this one intended for his fourth great-uncle. The others, killed by the little fox, bore wounds very different from blade cuts and would be hard to explain.

Once the little fox’s victims had expired, Li Yunfei stowed them all in his system inventory.

Glancing at his system panel, he saw that killing wild boars in reality granted only as much experience as a level-one ant monster. As expected, leveling up in instances was the true path; no matter how many animals he slaughtered in the real world, the experience gained would be negligible.

Closing the panel, he mounted the little fox and rode to the dock, instructing her to revert from combat form. Then, together, they bathed in the river; after a day’s exertion, both were filthy and drenched in blood.

Clean at last, they rowed across the river. As they neared his fourth great-uncle’s house, Li Yunfei took out the boar meant as a gift and slung it over his shoulder. With his pack on one shoulder and the boar on the other, the little fox perched atop the carcass.

Arriving at the courtyard, he saw the ground-floor doors wide open and the main hall aglow with light.

Inside, two square tables were set up. Over a dozen elderly men and women, all in their fifties or sixties, crowded around. At each side of the tables sat someone holding long strips of paper cards—they were in the midst of a game.

“Big three.”

“Pong… Which card should I play?”

“Hurry up, stop dawdling.”

“Big two, here’s your win.”

“Hah! And you dared play it, knowing I’d win with a big two!”

They were playing a card game wildly popular in southwest Daxia—known as “Running Tigers” in Xiangzhou and “Huang Eighteen” in Yuzhou.

Li Yunfei called out loudly, “Fourth Great-Uncle, stop playing cards and put some water on to boil!”