Above The Sky
Chapter 55 - 55 53 Hunting Team

55: Chapter 53: Hunting Team 55: Chapter 53: Hunting Team Herbalists are those who snatch food from the mouths of the Natives.

Due to the hot and humid climate and densely forested terrain, the Natives of the Southern Border are not adept at farming; even when they discover an extremely beneficial herb, it’s challenging to find a suitable place for transplantation, and even if transplanted, it’s tough for it to survive.

So they are used to sowing seeds randomly.

After worshipping the Forest Ocean Spirit, the people of the Southern Border scatter the seeds wherever they feel appropriate, letting nature decide whether the seeds will germinate and whether they will grow to maturity.

This has been the case for nearly a thousand years.

In other words, in a sense, all the herbs and Sublimation Plants in the entire Redwood Forest along the Southern coast, from the ordinary Red Tough Nuts that are too poor even to fill a stomach properly to the rare “Foreseeing Bifoliate” that can strengthen Spirit Energy and Foresight View, are all the fruits of the planting by these Natives.

And of course, the Empire’s herbalists are nothing short of despicable robbers who naturally take the fruits of these Natives.

In this regard, Brin found the logic of these Natives quite interesting, and he also thought they were right.

After all, if it weren’t for the Natives persistently sowing seeds everywhere for hundreds of years, the various Sublimation Plants and herbs of the South would never have reached their current quantity.

But so what?

He would rob anyway!

The speed of a Native Hunter is much faster than that of an ordinary person; although not yet at the level of a Sublimator, due to their slim and nimble build, they are even more agile in the jungle.

Additionally, the element of surprise was on their side.

In Brin’s eyes, the opponent was like a shadow flitting through the forest, silently closing in, then with a snake-like strike, they bit down!

Clang!

An extremely loud metallic collision suddenly erupted as Brin, within the Natives’ breath of an ambush, drew his Herb Harvesting Dagger from behind and firmly blocked the incoming slash.

Even more, he had the strength to bellow in anger, pressing forward and stooping to forcibly push the ambushing Native back, while taking the opportunity to somersault backward, avoiding a blow dart from another Native on the side.

In the midst of rolling, with Ian’s reminder, although Brin seemed to roll away in a disgraceful manner, covered in rotten leaves and mud, he narrowly escaped disaster, breaking out of the incomplete encirclement of the Natives and saving his own life.

But, Brin, who had frequent dealings with the Natives, knew very well that this was far from over.

There were three of them!

“Ian!

Run!”

With his experienced instincts, Brin had barely finished his roll when he forced himself to dodge sideways again, as a faint glimmer of light flickered and whizzed by right in front of his eyes, leaving behind a woody scent.

It was the poison-tipped wooden blow dart commonly used by the Natives.

Although it did not have the same miraculous effect on creatures of Terra People’s larger size as it did on smaller animals like the Mountain Goose and grass rabbits—where penetration meant immediate sealing of the throat—Brin carried an antidote with him.

Still, being hit by an arrow in such a moment essentially spelled death.

Brin’s smooth evasion caught even the hunter, who had been confident of hitting his mark, off guard.

In the blink of an eye, the herbalist who had shouted had already taken cover behind a palm tree, entering a blind spot.

Even the furrow-browed Ian, who was looking out from the distance, couldn’t help but be surprised by his agility after witnessing this scene.

And that was hardly surprising.

Becoming a herbalist burglar took skill, and pillaging herbs and Sublimation Plants from the Native’s main camp required considerable dexterity—otherwise, one wouldn’t be a herbalist but rather a deliverer of Flesh and Blood.

Using one’s own blood to water the Natives’ plants, offering one’s own flesh for their meals.

Perhaps this was one of the earliest courier industries on the Terra Continent.

It may seem that Brin could be easily slapped down by Elder Prude, but who is Elder Prude?

One of the top three Sublimators in Harrison Port, the inheritor of the Sublimation Bloodline “Felsic Bear Lizard” which could reach the Third Energy Level, not to mention that the opponent was an Elder, and Brin dared not dodge.

“It looks like I’m going to die here today!”

In a few breaths’ time, while dodging the sequence of the Natives’ combined strikes and not even having time to break into a cold sweat, Brin reckoned that fighting alone, he could handle one Native Hunter at most; fighting for his life against two was already a stretch.

Now with three, he couldn’t escape.

So without hesitation, he immediately shouted, “Go, Ian, run to the neighboring farm and call for help!

The Aubrey brothers should still be there, tell them to bring their bows and shields to avenge me!”

The nearby mudflats were managed by the White Folks, with an oyster and shellfish farm right next door.

If Brin remembered correctly, there were usually seven or eight people stationed there daily, with a few skilled ones among them.

But Ian didn’t need his reminder; he had already decided to seek help at the farm before he had warned Brin to be cautious of the ambush.

But the current situation was clearly not right.

Because the breeding farm was on fire.

The evening had arrived, and the sun was gradually sinking into the sea, casting a dim orange-red glow.

Yet near the coast, a bright golden-red flame was spreading, the intense firelight giving rise to a column of hot air and smoke that soared upwards, carrying countless golden-red sparks that rose and illuminated the surrounding area with clarity.

The burning structures were the wooden huts where the stationed personnel at the breeding farm lived.

The firelight reflected and stretched Ian’s shadow long behind him, but the boy did not gaze at the situation at the farm for long.

He turned his head to look toward a distant part of the sea.

The crimson glow twisted the air while dark smoke billowed upwards.

The fishing villages further away had also caught fire.

Centering on Harrison Port, The Empire’s immigrants had established numerous small villages, originally outposts, forts, and native settlements seized during the battles with the natives; now, they were various forts and towns.

And now, specks of firelight had begun to flare up in many places, and within a single breath, Ian could see five of them.

The natives were not just attacking them.

They were attacking all the outlying villages of Harrison Port.

“The natives launched an attack?

Much faster than I expected,”

Although Ian had been vigilant since seven days prior and was not surprised by the natives’ attack, he still wondered, “But it’s like startling the snake by beating the grass; how could they possibly breach the city defenses at the port?”

There was no time to think.

Brin had just issued a second warning, telling Ian to hurry and seek help, but he didn’t plan to leave.

——The farm was probably completely wiped out; if he were to go anywhere, it would be back to Harrison Port, but how could he possibly escape the natives’ pursuit in the open coastal area or in the woods?

To be a target for blow darts?

So now, what he needed to do was quite simple.

“I’m just an engineer.”

Turning his head, Ian looked at the three native hunters who were already encircling Brin, planning to deal with the threatening herb harvester before coming to deal with himself, a mere child: “I don’t have any combat skills.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, activating Foresight View, locked onto the position of his adversaries, the rhythm of his breathing became long and steady, his heart pulsating powerfully: “Nor do I have the immense strength of a gene warrior.”

“So, I have to use a smarter method.”

At that moment, Brin was struggling to hold on.

He was rolling and climbing through the jungle, darting left and right, occasionally swinging his dagger, not to fend off the enemy, but to cut through vines and aerial roots for escape.

A counter-kill?

If he could really take on three and counter-kill, why would he be a herb harvester?

Why not become a defense team squad leader?

Brin did have some talent, but not that much; stuck in a limbo where he was unwilling to be a farmer, but not quite cut out for a warrior, he was trapped here, only able to get by as a herb harvester.

However, during the frantic chase and pursuit, he had figured out that the three native hunters pursuing him—one used a knife and a short spear, one used blow darts, and one used both blow darts and a bow—were a very standard team for hunting large game.

They worked together quite proficiently and must have been the core of a tribe.

But why?

The numbers of core native hunters were not plentiful; in a sizeable tribe of a thousand, there were only a few dozen.

Why were three of them here attacking him?

Brin couldn’t figure it out, and he didn’t want to fight either, but given his large size, traversing the jungle was never going to be faster than the natives.

As a stench of blood accompanied by the excited shrieks of the natives came from behind, he didn’t need to look back to know that the most agile knife-wielding native had caught up to him, and it was highly likely that a knife was already swinging towards his back.

This time it truly felt like a thorn in his back; he even had the illusion of the knife blade piercing into his flesh and blood.

“Courting death!”

In that moment of extreme peril, Brin suddenly turned around.

Gritting his teeth, he forcefully stopped in his tracks and then, with arms wide open, he turned to embrace the incoming native knife-wielder!

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