Chapter Thirty-Four: Laying an Ambush

“You should hunt during the day. It's easier to hide in the snow then—why go out at night?” Lu Hu asked Bai Dabai.

“Oh, heavens! Those prairie villains shoot anything that flies or runs in the woods. My tribe has suffered terribly. Someone as lovable as me, who even flowers shy away from, would be dead if I tried in daylight.”

“Now that I'm here, you have nothing to fear. I'll avenge you, and let those villains learn who rules these mountains.”

“That’s wonderful! With the god’s help, anything is possible. We’re finally saved!”

“Roast the wild boar; I’ll eat, and rest well so I have strength to fight them tomorrow.”

“Alright, let’s eat.” Bai Dabai spoke, then tore into the wild boar with his jaws, feasting hungrily.

Lu Hu returned to the fire. Shi Zhenxiang handed him roasted meat, and Yakexi offered a spring water cooled to a pleasant temperature. Lu Hu ate with grace.

After the meal, Yakexi and Shi Zhenxiang searched the small caves by torchlight, found several wooden planks, and laid them as a large bed.

“God, please sleep.” Yakexi added wood to the fire, while Shi Zhenxiang carefully spread grass over the planks and requested permission.

“Good. You two rest as well; we have much to do tomorrow.” Lu Hu spat out his rinsing water, walked over, and lay down.

He had just closed his eyes when Lingding Xiaowu scolded, “Xiaobai, behave yourself! Don’t run about. If you disturb the god’s sleep, you'll regret it.”

He opened his eyes to see a tiger cub wobbling toward him, legs splaying every which way, stumbling with every few steps.

Lingding Xiaowu still fed her other two cubs and couldn’t gather the mischievous one. Bai Dabai focused solely on eating, paying no mind to the cubs.

Xiaobai squealed in a childish voice, using all its strength to crawl to Lu Hu’s bed. But it couldn’t climb the two-finger-thick planks, and began to wail anxiously. Lu Hu reached out; the cub licked his hand eagerly, wagging its tail in affection.

Lu Hu lifted the cub and placed it beside him, gently stroking its fur. He noticed the cub’s coat was indeed silver-gray. With proper nutrition, it would shine and likely grow into a white tiger.

That explained why Lingding Xiaowu called it Xiaobai.

Xiaobai purred contentedly, flopped onto its back, paws in the air, exposing its belly for Lu Hu to scratch.

As he scratched, Lu Hu drifted into sleep.

The cub crawled up to his shoulder, gazed at his face for a long while, then burrowed into his armpit, wriggling to find the most comfortable position, pressed tightly against him, and finally closed its eyes, resting peacefully…

Sunlight threaded through the gaps in the forest, infiltrating every corner and bringing beams of brightness to the gloomy woods.

Birdsong rose and fell, dispelling the heavy silence and ushering in vitality.

Rays refracted, stubbornly creeping into the cave entrance, casting a patch of light into the darkness below.

The six warhorses disliked the stuffy atmosphere inside, tossing their necks and pawing the ground impatiently, eager to get outside for fresh air and freedom.

Shi Zhenxiang woke, leapt to the fire, and prodded the ashes with a stick—only dead embers remained. He grabbed leftover grass and dry branches, rekindled the fire, added wood, and gathered the flames.

He boiled spring water in a copper basin, poured some aside for Lu Hu, and tore last night’s leftover venison into small pieces for a pot of meat soup.

Yakexi led the six horses outside for a walk, letting them graze in the snow, and brought back dry branches.

Lu Hu awoke to warmth under his arm. He reached out, and Xiaobai stirred with a soft purr. Not wishing to wake the cub, Lu Hu gently stroked its soft body, eyes closed, pondering his next steps.

Only when Yakexi brought the horses in and Shi Zhenxiang finished preparing breakfast did Lu Hu stop, ready to rise.

Xiaobai opened its eyes, whining for attention. Lu Hu relented and picked it up, holding it in his arms.

“God, let me take it. Please eat first.” Shi Zhenxiang stooped to pick up Xiaobai.

But before his hand touched the cub, it suddenly tensed, eyes flashing fiercely, baring tiny teeth, swiping its paws wildly, and shouting with a child’s roar—a clear warning: touch me and you’ll regret it.

Lu Hu laughed and pushed Shi Zhenxiang’s hand away. “Let it stay with me; it’s wary of strangers.”

Bai Dabai and Lingding Xiaowu awakened and resumed tearing into last night’s raw meat. The other two cubs nursed from their mother.

Lu Hu ate and fed Xiaobai, then placed the leftover soup near its mouth. The cub licked it happily.

Shi Zhenxiang and Yakexi packed their belongings, saddled the warhorses, and loaded supplies onto the spare mounts.

“Dabai, Xiaowu, don’t stay here suffering. Come with us,” Lu Hu spoke in tiger tongue.

“Alright, we’ll follow the god,” the two tigers replied, each picking up a cub and preparing to depart.

Yakexi led the warhorses out first. Lu Hu, carrying Xiaobai, followed, leading his horse. Shi Zhenxiang drove the three spare horses behind, while Bai Dabai’s family brought up the rear.

They traveled through the woods for about half an hour when Yakexi suddenly raised a hand to warn them.

The three halted, quickly drew their bows, and nocked arrows.

Ahead, a herd of elk grazed quietly.

Unable to resist, Yakexi released an arrow, striking an elk in the neck. It cried out, struggling desperately but unable to flee.

The other elk startled, lifted their heads, and seeing it was Lu Hu’s group, scattered in panic.

Yakexi rode over, collected the dying elk, and slung it over the spare horse’s back.

Moving onward, more roe deer, wild deer, bears, wild boars, and rabbits darted past, veering away upon spotting them.

Someone was hunting nearby.

The forest was vast; the Xilot hunters might not reach this part.

Staying still seemed wisest. With this in mind, Lu Hu spoke in tiger tongue: “Dabai, go scout. Show yourself outside their range and lure them to chase you.”

“Watch me,” Bai Dabai roared, and in a flash, his striped body darted away like a streak of white, vanishing into the trees. The cub in his mouth was placed at Lingding Xiaowu’s feet.

“Zhenxiang, tie the three spare horses in that thicket,” Lu Hu ordered, then called out in tiger tongue, “Xiaowu, watch the horses with your cubs outside the thicket. Hide well, don’t frighten the horses.”

Seeing Shi Zhenxiang secure the horses, and mother and cubs in place, Lu Hu’s own Xiaobai clung tightly, determined not to leave. He abandoned the idea of leaving Xiaobai with Lingding Xiaowu. “Kexi, Zhenxiang, let’s find a battleground ahead.”

They rode for a while and found a small clearing amidst the trees, dotted with a few thornbushes and sparse saplings.

“You two go to the sides, hide behind big trees, and shoot the first horseman who charges in. Aim so the rider falls right in front of me.”

Watching Yakexi and Shi Zhenxiang gallop to their positions, Lu Hu rode a few paces into the clearing, stopped, and played with Xiaobai.

Soon, a tiger’s roar echoed from ahead, fierce and full of killing intent, shaking the gorge.

Lu Hu recognized Bai Dabai’s angry voice: “Come on, you villains! Come die!”

The roar reverberated through the valley, then faded.

They were coming.

Lu Hu listened, and soon heard distant shouts and horse cries.

He untied the electric baton from his right arm and gripped it.

Bai Dabai appeared in sight, running ahead, glancing back, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down, taunting the pursuing riders.

“Dabai, come to me,” Lu Hu called in tiger tongue, also to draw the riders’ attention.

Bai Dabai bounded over and stood beside Lu Hu’s warhorse.