To the northwest of the Golden Corridor, less than two weeks from the border of the Duchy of Molton, there were four or five Quaid tribes. These tribes traveled between the Pamir Icefields and the Duchy, with glaciers inhabited by countless powerful magical beasts to the east and the impenetrable Sauron Mountains to the west. Between the mountains and the glaciers, there are more than a dozen not-so-tall hills, and the powerful and savage Quaid people live in this relatively warm and fertile land.

The blizzard, which had been going on all night, finally stopped in the early morning, and the thick clouds of snow that had piled up in the sky were leaking a few warm rays of sunlight into the ground that had been obscuring them. In addition to a blanket of white snow on the silent ice field, all that remained was the black woods that looked as dead and silent as a graveyard of the dead. Under the dim sky, soft snowflakes also lay quietly on the cold ground or branches, as if time had been frozen, and the cold wind in the mountains was rare and silent at this time.

Ambushed in a narrow snow cave, a sleepy Riga was about to close his eyes and rest, but the calm of the forest was shattered by the sound of vibrations. A rude beast with long silver-white fur swayed into the silent picture. The tendoned limbs of the pine stumps slumped heavily on the soft snow, causing the tiled snow to boil violently, and even the snow on the branches trembled and fell in fear. The beast's fiery snort melted the snowflakes into dripping bone-chilling water, but they quickly congealed on the ground. The calm cold wind in the mountains was also stirred by the huge body, whistling towards the black forest, like blowing into the open mouth of a giant beast.

The cold wind mixed with snow and ice screeched through the trees like a cold sparrow, causing Riga to stretch out her stiff hands a little sluggishly. He tightened the gray wolfskin cloak he wore until the cap more firmly covered the hunter's frozen blue cheeks to prevent them from being cut by the snowflakes as sharp as the blades.

When the branches above his head stopped wobbling, the young hunter had time to reach out his glove-wrapped right hand and gently push away the freshly piled up of ice and snow in front of him. The thick gloves sewn from deerskin and rabbit down did not protect against the pervasive cold, and the hunter's fingers hidden inside were numb and almost unconscious.

Ignoring the snow and ice slag that had piled up on the back of his cloak and hood, Riga squinted slightly at the figure in the distance that was getting closer. Stiff left hand slowly moved the black spear shaft made of iron bone wood, and the hunter let the bronze dark cyan spear tip quietly aim at the prey in the distance.

It was such a majestic creature! It was covered with silvery-white fine fluff, bear's paws as hard as rocks, and huge claws as sharp as boning knives, and even if it was shrunk in the flesh pad, it could not hide the terrifying edge.

This is an adult snow bear, the king of the mountains and forests. Until its brute force that can tear bulls to shreds, even low-level demonic beasts won't easily break into their territory.

The beast was now perched at the edge of the forest, its two stubby forelimbs slightly curved and its black nose without any fluff cover twitching as its head swung, as if sensing the danger lurking in the woods.

With deep suspicion in its eyes shining like black jewels, the snow bear opened its huge mouth with terrifying canine teeth and let out a warning roar from its throat as it let the pale yellow saliva uncontrollably pull into silk threads and slide down.

Noticing the snow bear's unusual appearance, Riga immediately lowered her body for fear of being discovered by the keen bear's eyes. Under the overwhelming pressure, he didn't even dare to breathe heavily, but the churning heat in his chest and abdomen tickled his throat. So the hunter could only open his lips slightly, and quietly plucked a little snow from the ground close to his face to quench the longing that welled up from the depths of his throat. It was only after the cold snow water poured from the bottom of her tongue into her throat that Riga's tension was slightly relieved.

After a dozen breaths of stalemate, the snow bear slowly closed its mouth and ended its low roar. The weakness of its body forced it to speed up its drive back to the cave.

The massive body, which weighed more than fifteen hundred pounds, immediately twisted forward, and the beast kept twitching its nose in the snow with its head down, and there was a wariness in its eyes that did not dissipate. Compared to its body, its short, stout limbs swung rapidly and alternately, allowing it to scurry into the forest at an alarming speed. Countless low shrubs and branches were bent by its fur, but it did not leave a trace on it.

The tremors from the ground were getting more and more violent, and Riga knew it was because the snow bear was getting closer to the location of his ambush. The hunter shrunk more cautiously into the cavern as he began to adjust the arc between his waist and knees, so that his muscles and muscles were stretched like a full-drawn longbow.

As he approached the ambush, the snow bear suddenly stopped. The clumsy but agile behemoth writhed with great effort, stretched its limbs as far forward as it could, and paused from its forward state as two towering snowdrifts rolled out of the ground. The cunning beast once again stretched out its sensitive and fragile nose and sniffed quietly in the air. Then its two majestic upper limbs were slightly raised, and several hideous claws more than six inches long poked out.

It could already smell the scent of hunters wafting through the air in front of it, but its narrow skull made it impossible to guess if there were hunters in ambush there, or if it was just their breath. The beast spun impatiently in place, its majestic limbs bombarding the ground to its heart's content. Brute force destroys the surrounding dwarf trees and shrubs.

In the end, the pain behind it overcame the fear of the hunter. The snow bear's eagerness stood up, and after a few slashes of its majestic forelimbs in the air, it slammed to the ground and rushed forward with a terrifying shaking. The snow that had been laid flat on the ground immediately poured out like boiling water under the brute force.

Riga lay quietly in the snow cave, feeling the sudden shaking and shaking the spear in his hand to relieve the tension in his heart. It didn't take long for the fishy, hot snort to erupt from the beast's nose and bombard the hunter's head, and Riga finally let go of the bowstring. The tension of his muscles made the spear in his hand pierce out of the hidden hole like an arrow shot from a longbow, and the poisonous snake bit the half-opened kiss of the snow bear.

If the beast's jaw is struck, Riga is sure to burst into the snow bear's skull before it can react, and the brain it protects will be twisted into a thick pulp. But the beasts that had been on the alert all around them found the spear that stabbed at them in time.

With a terrifying roar in its throat, the silver beast that had been attacked was furious, and its strong and majestic right forelimb slapped hard, and the shaft of the spear slanted to the side with a wail under the force of brute force. If it weren't for the hunter's grip on the tail of the spear, he would have lost the most deterrent weapon against the beast.

Secretly soothing his somewhat sore wrist a few times, Riga quietly took a few steps back, raising the spear in his hand diagonally again like a hungry wolf preparing to attack, leaning forward with his body leaning forward, ready to stretch out his sharp 'minions' at any time. The silver beast knew that the dark cyan spearhead could tear through its tough fur, so it frantically walked back and forth in place, occasionally smashing down the trees around it or leaving a deep scratch on it.

The hunter knew it was the snow bear that was intimidating his enemies by showing his brute strength. But for him, it's just a waste of effort.

When the third low, stout pine tree was broken by the brutal beast and fell to the ground with a wail, Riga finally stabbed his spear. Before the beast could recover from the thrill of destruction, sharp spearheads appeared on its chest like lightning, sharp blades cutting through the tough fur, and drills generally advancing through the abdomen covered in layers of fat.

Before the hard metal, there seemed to be nothing that could stop it from moving forward. The spearhead paused for less than half a breath on the layers of fur and fat before plunging into the beast's abdomen. The behemoth, which was more than eight feet tall, immediately let out a wail, and its majestic and strong upper limbs waved in front of it like crazy.

Before Riga could dodge with a spear in both hands, his right shoulder was grazed by the sharp bear claw. The shoulder pads made of wolf skin were torn in half before they could do anything, and a gushing spring of blood poured out of a wound at least two inches deep, instantly wetting the hunter's right arm.

With a muffled grunt, he let go of his grip on the spear, and Riga hurriedly backed away. While this saved him from being torn to shreds by the Berserk Behemoth, the Hunter had lost his primary means of fighting the Behemoth after losing his weapon.

Ignoring the spear still stuck in its belly and the wound that had turned open its flesh to reveal its entrails and intestines, the beast roared and stood upright, and swayed towards the hunter with its spear. The claws as sharp as the boning knife are particularly eerie and beautiful because they are stained with the blood of hunters.

Half of his face was covered by his loose blond hair, and Riga pressed his left hand on the bleeding wound on his right shoulder, regardless of the blood that had not yet dried, and struggled to tie it with a strip of cloth to stop the bleeding. Anger brewed in his body from the injury, like a thundercloud filled with lightning, the power of which was capable of destroying all enemies in his path.

When the beast pounced, the anger finally broke through the confinement it had been holding and vented from Rigga's body. The red-eyed hunter only felt that he was full of strength! He fearlessly looked at the giant claw that was about to tear him, and with a moment of shrinking his body dodged the attack and slipped under the giant beast, ignoring his right shoulder, which had just stopped bleeding, he held the spear that was still pierced in its abdomen with both hands, and roared angrily, and with all his might, sent the tip of the spear into the body of the giant beast. Then the hunter rolled sideways to the left, narrowly dodging the majestic hind limbs that were coming at him.

The wound had widened much and the beast slipped on its hind legs, and fell to the snow with a wail, and the cold, hard ground caused the spear to thrust in a little more, and then out of its broad back. The bronze spearhead was stained with steaming blood, but it curdled into dark red frost in the blink of an eye.

It wasn't until he noticed that the beast was twitching and trembling, but unable to stand up, that Riga realized that the spear had torn its spine and caused the beast to lose control of its body. The cloak dragged snow and muddy water, and the hunter knelt on the ground in embarrassment, his right arm resting weakly on one side, his chest swelling and shrinking with heavy gasps.

Looking at the dying beast, the hunter slowly reached out and pulled out a short knife from the outside of his thigh, and climbed up the broad back with some difficulty. Four fingers and palms gripped the hilt of the knife, and his thumb pressed against the bladeless back, and Riga controlled the short knife, accurately stabbing into the beast's neck, slicing the veins.

The severed behemoth still wanted to get up and struggle, but after losing control of its body, it could only roar in a mournful tone, feeling the enemy greedily lying on the wound and sucking its own blood, watching the bright red slowly penetrate the pale snow on the ground in front of it.

Rega immediately felt a wave of nausea at the entrance of the fishy blood, but the burning sensation in her abdomen disappeared a lot. Like swallowing carrion covered with maggots, the hunter swallowed four or five mouthfuls of blood with difficulty, and immediately struck a bloody satiety, and then retched on his stomach in embarrassment. The wriggling stomach tried to vomit out the bear blood that had been drunk, but Rigga's strong will forced them back into the pouch of the stomach. Only at the corners of the mouth were a few strings of red, viscous liquid mixed with gastric juice and saliva.

After five breaths, Riga looked up tiredly, wiped the saliva from the corner of her mouth with her dirty, shabby fur bracer, and then grabbed a handful of clean snowflakes on the flat ground and wiped her lips covered with half-congealed blood scabs. It wasn't until he tried to hold on to the slippery shaft of the spear that the hunter remembered his wound. But he quickly threw down the corners of his clothes that he had just torn off in his hands, because the wounds that had been scratched by the giant bear had formed thick bloody scabs.

Before he had time to think about the oddity of the matter, Riga slowly stretched his body. After making sure that the wound did not crack, he eagerly burrowed into the low forest next to him, and pulled out a huge sleigh made of rough fabrication. After stabilizing the seven-foot-long sled, Riga placed a dozen thick branches beside him. Then, with hand push and shoulder banging, the heavy body of the snow bear was loaded onto the sled with difficulty. After carefully checking the stability of the branches and twine, Riga slowly slipped the rope over his shoulders and pulled the sled through the snow towards the tribe. However, it left a visible trail of blood on the snow behind him.

About half an hourglass after Riga was gone, a sturdy brown figure suddenly appeared where he was fighting the snow bear. After carefully and carefully examining the blood on the ground, the brown figure made a visible mark on the ground, and then quietly chased in the direction the sleigh had left.