Chapter 72: Had You Set Your Sights on Her Legs All Along?

After fiercely beating up the members of the Patrol Bureau, Ye Chen felt not the slightest psychological burden—in fact, he found himself still unsatisfied. It wasn’t just because, after helping Chief Lu Biao with a private matter, he’d caught the attention of higher-ups and had a bit more leverage now. No, it was because he was right.

If the other side truly wanted to make a scene out of this, Ye Chen wouldn’t hesitate to turn the tables on them. In fact, he was hoping they’d blow things up. After dropping off Little Marinated Egg, Ye Chen left the city as planned.

He walked some distance, breathing in the scent of the wilderness, and it gave him a sense of coming home. He couldn’t say exactly why, but despite his home being in the city, he always felt a complete sense of relaxation in the wild. Remembering the scene of the three Patrol Bureau members bullying Little Marinated Egg, Ye Chen found even the bird droppings at his feet more agreeable than seeing people.

There was never any shortage of wolves in the capital—either wolves wearing human skins or the kind that bite the hand that feeds them. By contrast, the seemingly dangerous wilderness was straightforward: if you treated nature kindly, she would repay you in kind.

After a while, Ye Chen found a secluded spot. He steadied himself and then used his inner energy to form a diamond-shaped throwing dart. From the side, the dart’s edges were razor-sharp, incomparable to anything crafted by hand.

Hmm, he thought to himself, if my invisible blade is also condensed from inner energy, are the two essentially the same…?

The dart felt weightless in his hand, so insubstantial it was as if he were holding air itself. He threw it with all his might at a dead tree in the distance.

The dart flew through the air at an incredible speed, almost faster than an elemental energy bullet due to its minimal wind resistance.

With a sharp whistle, it sailed past the target, missing by more than a meter.

Ye Chen was utterly speechless at his own aim.

What on earth am I throwing? Even if the target just stood there, I couldn’t hit it.

He also noticed something else: his inner energy only began to deplete once the dart left his hand. One dart cost him five points of inner energy. Five points for just one.

Ye Chen was frustrated, not because five points was too much, but because his own inner energy reserves were pitifully low.

He felt as if he’d mastered a remarkable skill, but his low level made it all go to waste.

After testing, Ye Chen found he could form at most eleven diamond-shaped darts in one go—no more. The reason was clear: the inner energy wasn’t deducted until the darts were thrown, so there was no chance for recovery in between. His plan to continuously recover and produce more—gone. His idea to exploit a skill bug—failed.

Fine, eleven it is.

“Watch my multiple darts—whoosh!” Ye Chen threw them all at once, even adding a sound effect for himself.

The result: only one hit the tree, the rest scattered wider than a shotgun blast.

With an accuracy like that, Ye Chen’s lips twitched in annoyance. And even the one dart that hit seemed to be pure luck.

However, there was no denying the sharpness of the darts. The one that struck the tree pierced straight through the trunk. The others, some flying off into the undergrowth, left deep gouges in thick stones where they struck.

Just then, sounds came from a distance—the snorting of a running beast and the shouts of humans.

Ye Chen’s eyes narrowed, his expression turning cautious. In the wild, such a situation generally meant one of two things: either a wild hunter was chasing prey, or the prey had turned the tables and was now chasing a less competent hunter.

The thought made Ye Chen restless with anticipation.

Moments later, a mutated young wild boar and two wild hunters appeared in his line of sight. The “young” boar was over a meter tall, its entire body covered in bristle-like steel needles that pointed backward. If you were rammed by such a creature, even if your bones weren’t broken, those sharp, hard bristles would likely leave you riddled with bloody holes.

Fortunately, this was just a piglet.

The two hunters chasing it were familiar to Ye Chen, former colleagues of his. The older one was Feng Yi, son of Old Master Feng from the city’s sundry shop. The younger was Wang Mo, Old Master Feng’s proper apprentice—the two formed a team.

Ye Chen remained alert, wary of both the charging boar and the two men behind it. But he didn’t make a move yet. In the wilderness, hunters followed an unspoken rule: you didn’t steal someone else’s prey—unless they invited you to join because they couldn’t manage on their own. But joining meant sharing the spoils if the hunt succeeded.

Ye Chen recognized Feng Yi and Wang Mo, and they soon saw him as well.

“Isn’t that Ye Chen?” Wang Mo said, puzzled. “I heard he joined the Patrol Bureau. Why’s he out here today?”

Feng Yi didn’t seem to care, eyes fixed on the boar’s flying hooves. “Probably got the itch and came out for a taste of wild meat.”

“Should we ask him for help? If we keep chasing, I think this one’s going to get away,” Wang Mo said, feeling out of breath after pursuing the panicked boar for some distance. Feng Yi, especially, had to admit he wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Instead of replying, Feng Yi looked to Ye Chen, who was poised and ready to spring into action.

Feng Yi immediately caught on and called out, “Ye Chen, brother! Help us block it—if you do, you get a leg as your share.”

The offer was fair: enough to satisfy Ye Chen’s craving for meat, and with an extra hand, their effort wouldn’t be in vain.

Ye Chen moved. The agreement was struck.

He shot forward, feet pounding the earth, charging at the mutated boar like a thunderbolt. The speed stunned both Feng Yi and Wang Mo—and even the boar itself. One moment Ye Chen looked harmless, the next, he was more ferocious than any beast.

“So fast!” Feng Yi exclaimed.

“When did Ye Chen get skills like that?” Wang Mo muttered.

The boar, on instinct, veered off in an attempt to break through.

As an experienced wild hunter, Ye Chen knew that if he let a catch like this escape, he’d be a laughingstock back in town—not to mention, he’d clobber himself with the back of his own knife out of shame.

He reached to his side, where a diamond-shaped dart hovered, already condensed and ready. He threw it casually in the boar’s running direction—not aiming to hit, just to distract.

Yet, in the next instant, even Ye Chen was stunned. His steps slowed.

By sheer luck, the dart struck the boar’s foreleg.

The boar stumbled and rolled across the ground, unable to keep its balance.

What luck! Incredible!

Feng Yi caught up and joined Ye Chen, while Wang Mo went to tie up the wounded boar.

Looking at Ye Chen’s empty hands, then at the struggling beast with blood pouring from its injured leg, Feng Yi asked, bewildered, “Did you have your eye on that leg from the start?”

Ye Chen was speechless.