Chapter 42: Poachers Reap What They Sow
A little past four in the morning, two sika deer—one big, one small—appeared outside the courtyard. The larger one was about half a person tall. The smaller one was that rare white sika deer.
What was most alarming, though, was the speckled blood staining their bodies.
Thud thud thud! The Deer King slammed his antlers hard against the courtyard gate. The little white deer let out a bleak, desperate cry: [Human! Save us!]
In truth, Lin Jiangye had already opened his eyes the moment the two deer entered the yard.
The heavy stench of blood jolted him fully awake.
When the Deer King began pounding on the door, Bixi and Shang Fuyan were startled awake too. Only then did the man and the raven catch a faint metallic tang in the air—coming from outside.
Hearing the little white deer’s voice, Lin Jiangye immediately set down the weapon in his hand and went to open the gate.
The instant he saw the blood on the two deer, his pupils contracted sharply, his breathing turning rapid. “What happened?”
Why were they covered in blood? Were they injured?
The Deer King’s voice was laced with grief, but even more with fury: [Poachers have appeared.]
Lin Jiangye froze for a beat—then rage surged up like a tidal wave.
Poachers. Anyone with even the slightest tenderness toward wildlife would want to tear such people apart.
“They hurt the herd?”
The little white deer shook its head, tears pooling in its eyes: [It was Mama. Mama is gone! Bad humans broke in—they wanted to take the fishers, and they wanted to take me too! Mama tried to protect me, and the bad humans killed her!]
With a wail it burst into tears, crashing into Lin Jiangye’s arms. Yesterday, its mother had still been laughing and playing with it—now she was a cold corpse.
[They took one fisher. They accidentally hurt the herd. And they injured a kestrel’s wing, too.]
A kestrel? Why was a kestrel there?
Lin Jiangye sensed something was off. He threw on his clothes at top speed, calling the station chief while hurriedly explaining the situation to the still-dazed Shang Fuyan.
The moment they heard poachers—and that multiple wild animals had been harmed—both the chief and Shang Fuyan were shocked and furious.
“Where the hell did poachers come from?!” The chief had pulled an all-nighter and had barely slept for an hour. The call woke him with a nasty case of morning temper—only for that temper to ignite into towering rage. His roar jolted the entire station awake.
The major-crimes team, half-asleep, heard “poachers” and hadn’t even fully processed it before they found themselves on their feet, hands already on their firearms.
“I don’t know. I’m following the Deer King in right now. I’ll send you a location once I have it,” Lin Jiangye said rapidly. “Chief, notify the forestry bureau and the border inspection teams too—get them ready. Deer King says there are at least two poachers. They’ve already taken one fisher. I don’t know if they were targeting fishers specifically, or if they’re here for other animals.”
Taibai Mountain had more protected animals than just fishers.
Lin Jiangye was already in the car, with Shang Fuyan and Bixi, following the Deer King into the mountains.
He hadn’t wanted to bring Bixi—if they ran into poachers, what if Bixi got hit?
But Shang Fuyan told him flatly, “If you don’t let it come, it’ll sneak after you anyway. That’ll be even more dangerous.”
Bixi nodded furiously in agreement, so earnestly that Lin Jiangye was both angry and amused.
“You can come, but you must listen to me, understand? Poachers have guns. If they shoot at you, you might not even realize it in time. You must fly high—got it?”
Lin Jiangye sounded like an anxious old dad the whole way, nagging nonstop.
But right now, both Shang Fuyan and Bixi understood his worry completely.
[Crow will protect itself. Don’t worry.] The raven crept closer and pressed its cheek against Lin Jiangye’s arm.
With one hand on the wheel, Lin Jiangye drifted across the snow. The heavy vehicle burrowed deeper into the forest.
At this point, they were already inside the restricted zone. If they ran into patrols, Lin Jiangye would be mistaken for a poacher in seconds.
But he couldn’t care anymore.
The poachers had injured too many animals. The little white deer’s mother was dead. A stag in the herd was wounded. The kestrel had crashed into the snow with a torn wing—if those two weren’t treated in time, they’d become two more corpses.
When Lin Jiangye reached the site, what greeted him was a wide smear of vivid red blood—and the doe, already completely without breath.
Lin Jiangye remembered her. The day the little white deer led him to the corpse pit, that doe had suddenly appeared and given the naughty kid an absolute beating.
Back then she’d been full of life—lively, vigorous.
Now her eyes had turned ashen with death. Her blood had frozen into ice. The little white deer wasn’t crying anymore; it crouched beside her mother and gently licked her face.
It had no mother now.
Lin Jiangye felt a stab through his heart. But he didn’t have time to mourn. Grabbing his first-aid kit, he sprinted to the injured stag.
Thankfully, the stag had only been grazed by a bullet. The blood loss wasn’t severe. After Lin Jiangye applied medicine, the bleeding stopped.
Then came the kestrel.
Lin Jiangye scanned the area and found it tucked tightly beneath the two deer—protected as if sealed away. Warmed by their body heat, the little bird had avoided freezing to death.
And—this was a familiar bird.
“Why is it you?” Lin Jiangye hadn’t expected the kestrel to be the very one that had shown up at the station yesterday.
The kestrel was weak. It opened its beak, but no sound came out. Lin Jiangye quickly lifted it and checked. The bullet had pierced straight through its wing.
As he treated it, the kestrel trembled all over from pain.
[It hurts. It hurts so much. QAQ] The tiny cry made Lin Jiangye’s chest ache.
Damn those poachers. People like that deserved to be tied to traffickers on the same stake and burned alive together.
After he finished treating both injuries, Lin Jiangye finally returned to the little white deer and pulled it into his arms, patting it gently.
For once, he didn’t know what to say. My condolences—that was something humans said to humans. It didn’t fit here.
“When I find those two bad people, I’ll hand them to you so you can vent your anger—okay?”
Not far away, Shang Fuyan had just finished a call with the chief. Hearing Lin Jiangye’s words, he fell silent. He didn’t lecture about turning poachers over to the law—not now. Instead, he started calculating where those poachers might run.
Catch them, tie them up, toss them into the snow—whatever happened after that, they could simply pretend not to see.
No law forbade animals from taking revenge on the humans who killed their mother.
The little white deer’s eyes lost their former innocence entirely. In those black eyes, a flame seemed to rise. It was as if it had grown up overnight.
[Okay!]
By the time the chief and the others rushed in, the figures of Lin Jiangye, Shang Fuyan, and the Deer King were already gone.
The little white deer led them to where the wounded had been settled, then threw back its head and cried out to the sky.
The remaining deer also raised their heads and called. Without Lin Jiangye, the chief couldn’t understand what they were saying.
But after the herd’s calls, the forest answered with all kinds of animal cries.
As if messages were being passed—relay after relay.
After calling, the herd didn’t do anything to the chief’s people. They simply went off to find a safer place to shelter.
There was blood here. Humans had been here. It wasn’t safe anymore.
Before leaving, the Deer King gave the little white deer a new task: find a safe place for the herd to settle.
A trial for a little deer on the edge of adulthood.
The chief called Lin Jiangye, but the one who answered was Shang Fuyan. From the sound of it, their vehicle was flying down the mountain roads.
“Where are you going?!” the chief was about to lose it. Those poachers had guns. Were these two young men really going after them bare-handed?
But Shang Fuyan replied calmly, “Perfect. Jiangye’s car can finally be used for what it was truly meant for. Chief—tell the others our identities. Otherwise someone might arrest us by mistake.”
What do you mean “finally”? That’s a gun, kid! Even an old rifle could kill easily!
Shang Fuyan didn’t explain. He hung up.
The chief stared at the phone, cursing viciously in his head.
Still, he had to follow Shang Fuyan’s warning and report their identities to the forestry bureau and the border inspection teams.
Hearing that two young men had charged into the mountains to hunt poachers—with no hot weapons for self-defense—those on the other end immediately felt their scalp go numb.
Great. Were they about to find two more bodies up there?
Without the little white deer slowing him down, the Deer King ran far faster than before. Lin Jiangye had to push the speed to 110 just to keep up.
That speed on a snowy mountain road was deadly. No one knew what lay ahead—if a cliff appeared out of nowhere, it would be car-wreck, people-dead.
But Lin Jiangye didn’t hesitate, tailing the Deer King tightly until it let out a long, ringing call. Only then did he tap the brakes lightly.
[One of them is ahead. I can smell deer-blood on him.] The Deer King panted heavily.
It wanted revenge for its kin, but it hadn’t been blinded by hatred. It knew that charging a poacher head-on would end badly.
“I got it. You stay back. Bixi—scout!”
The window dropped. Wind and snow roared into the cabin. A black shadow shot out like an arrow.
[As you command!]
Against the vast white snow, the raven’s silhouette was strikingly obvious. But it was only a raven—not some rare protected species—so poachers normally wouldn’t bother with it.
Otherwise, Lin Jiangye would never have let Bixi go.
Knowing the poacher was nearby, Lin Jiangye didn’t dare speed. He crept forward at about thirty.
Soon, they heard Bixi’s caw-caw from ahead:
[Here, here! Only one person! He has a long weapon!]
Good. They’d found him.
Lin Jiangye’s eyes turned instantly icy. He stepped on the gas toward the sound.
After locating the target, Bixi flew back onto the armored vehicle’s roof, pointing directions.
[He’s resting under the tree ahead! Straight line!]
Lin Jiangye narrowed his eyes, pressed down, and bumped speed to sixty.
The surge of acceleration made Shang Fuyan’s gut tighten with dread. “Lin Jiangye! Stay calm! If you kill someone by ramming them, that’s a crime!”
“I won’t.”
Shang Fuyan’s heart sank. He glanced sideways—the young man looked like a snow-demon that had crawled out of an ice cave, every inch of him radiating cold.
“I’m saving him for the little white deer’s revenge.”
The words were gentle as lover’s whispers. They’d have sounded even gentler if the car weren’t still surging forward.
Two minutes later, they saw the man limping beneath a tree.
He’d heard the engine and tried to hurry, but his foot was injured; he could only hobble, painfully slow.
Seeing that there was only one person, Shang Fuyan felt uneasy. Weren’t there supposed to be two?
He didn’t believe the other could be hiding nearby—if someone was close, Bixi wouldn’t have missed it.
Thinking of the man’s injured foot, it seemed something had happened during their escape that forced them to split up.
What? Fighting over loot? Or did they try to poach a large wild animal and get attacked instead?
If it was the first, that was good news for Lin Jiangye. If it was the second…
Lin Jiangye had no bandwidth to think. The moment he saw the bag in the man’s hand, his eyes went bloodshot.
The bag was torn open. Animal blood dripped onto the snow, mixing with the poacher’s own blood.
And beyond that—Lin Jiangye caught a blurred glimpse: a furry tail in the bag, painfully familiar.
The poacher was horrified by the sudden vehicle. As it drew closer, he raised his rifle and screamed hoarsely, “Don’t come closer! Or I’ll shoot!”
The two in the car didn’t react.
A joke. This was a specially customized armored vehicle—extra-thick. Bullets wouldn’t do anything. Even standard grenades would struggle.
Seeing them not stop, the poacher took two deep breaths, forcing his hands to steady—trying to erase the terrifying scene he’d faced earlier.
He pulled the trigger. A bullet struck the windshield.
Nothing happened.
He fired again, stubborn. Three shots—still nothing. But now he was about to have problems.
Right before impact, Lin Jiangye finally slammed the brakes. But inertia still pushed the car forward a short distance—
Just enough to wedge the poacher perfectly between the car’s front and the tree behind him, so tightly he couldn’t move at all.
Shang Fuyan’s mouth twitched. Lin Jiangye was absolutely doing this on purpose.
The pressure was controlled to perfection—enough to make the poacher miserable without actually injuring him.
Meaning even if the poacher tried to accuse Lin Jiangye, an injury exam would find no marks.
The poacher felt like he couldn’t breathe. The heavy hood pressed right at his chest—no suffocation, but he had to gulp air hard just to keep breathing.
He planned to wait for them to get out, then raise the gun and threaten one of them.
But they didn’t get out.
Minutes passed. His breathing grew ragged. His grip weakened until the rifle slipped free.
Clack.
Bixi glanced down, confirmed the long weapon had dropped, and only then did Lin Jiangye and Shang Fuyan step out.
Whether by accident or “accident,” Shang Fuyan pushed the door a bit too hard. Bang—it slammed into the poacher’s forehead, raising a huge lump instantly.
“Hng…” The poacher was already weak. Shang Fuyan still didn’t drop his guard. He snapped on handcuffs.
Seeing that familiar silver loop, the poacher stared at him in a daze.
Since when did police work this… feral?
Shang Fuyan rubbed his nose and silently added rope, binding him up.
While Shang Fuyan handled the poacher, Lin Jiangye’s hands trembled as he opened the fallen bag.
Inside were three corpses: one fisher, and two Chinese mergansers—all Class I nationally protected animals.
The blurry glimpse Lin Jiangye had caught in the car earlier must have been the fisher’s tail sticking out.
After Shang Fuyan finished tying the man up, he walked over and saw Lin Jiangye crouched on the ground, staring blankly at the small bodies in front of him.
He let out a silent sigh. No one could have expected that after seeing a whole group of little ones yesterday, today they would…
Shang Fuyan stayed quietly beside Lin Jiangye, not leaving, until Lin Jiangye finally stood up again.
No joke—when he saw those corpses, Lin Jiangye truly wanted to get back in the car and roll straight over that poacher.
But he couldn’t.
“Ha…” Lin Jiangye exhaled a puff of white mist, slowly shut his eyes, and after a long while, carefully gathered the little bodies and arranged them properly.
He pulled off his gloves, scooped up a handful of snow from the ground, and slapped it hard onto his face.
“Lin Jiangye, are you insane?” Shang Fuyan grabbed his wrist, but when he met those bloodshot eyes, his movement paused slightly.
“I need to… calm down.” What could calm a person down better than ice and snow? Nothing—at least not right now.
After he pressed snow to his face the third time, Lin Jiangye felt his skin going numb, but he didn’t regret it.
Once he was fully calm again, Lin Jiangye walked up to the poacher and crouched down. He grabbed the man’s leg and “accidentally” prodded right where the wound was—making the poacher howl in pain.
Lin Jiangye had only meant to vent a little, to release the violent edge in his chest. But the moment he saw the injury on the poacher’s leg, his expression changed completely.
On the poacher’s calf were several very distinct claw marks—clearly left by a large predator.
Judging by the shape, they were from a big cat.
Yet the calf was still there, which meant that cat hadn’t intended to kill him—otherwise it wouldn’t have stopped at a few scratches.
“What did you run into—lynx?” Lin Jiangye blurted, then immediately realized it was wrong. He’d held and petted a lynx before; the claw marks on this leg were more than twice the size of a lynx’s.
And on Taibai Mountain, there were only two kinds of felines bigger than a lynx by that much—Amur tigers and Amur leopards.
But if you really compared them, an Amur leopard’s size was probably closer to a lynx’s, so…
“You ran into an Amur tiger, didn’t you?”
The instant he said it, Shang Fuyan saw terror flash across the poacher’s face. The two exchanged a look, their expressions turning even heavier.
An Amur tiger had appeared nearby?
No wonder the poachers got separated—when the tiger showed up, they must’ve scattered in panic just trying to stay alive.
Shang Fuyan drew in a deep breath. Now it was his turn to steady himself—this was not good news for anyone.
He immediately relayed the information to the chief. The other end went quiet, then came a series of sharp inhales.
“You’re sure?”
Shang Fuyan looked at the poacher, who had completely cracked, and answered firmly, “Yes. He admitted it. According to him, it was an adult female Amur tiger—also one of their targets.”
“Hiss—!” This time the inhalation was even louder. The shock was mixed with fury.
This was Taibai Mountain; a tiger being here wasn’t impossible. What alarmed them was that it had come this close to the outer area rather than staying deep in the wild.
That was trouble. Never mind that there was still a poacher hiding somewhere inside—if the tiger went down the mountain and ran into villagers, or tourists staying in local homes…
A few minutes later, Shang Fuyan delivered even worse news: “It’s not just two people. There are four. Each one has a gun. He and another guy ran into the tiger by accident while trying to catch the fisher, and both got injured.”
“Where are the other two?” the chief pressed.
Shang Fuyan glanced at the poacher, now passed out, and said, “Those two were in charge of locating the tiger. They’re out of contact.”
Either they’d also run into the tiger and gotten attacked, or they’d gone into a no-signal area.
But either way, there was now a tiger near the outskirts that had to be dealt with—and three poachers, status unknown, still somewhere in the mountain.
“What a damn mess!” The chief spat, full of contempt. If not for duty, he’d have liked nothing more than to bury the poachers right here in the snow.
“Better if the tiger kills them,” the chief muttered darkly. “Poachers deserve to die.” When he was a kid, he’d heard story after story of poachers capturing and killing wild animals until he was grinding his teeth with rage. He’d sworn that when he grew up, he’d catch every last one of them.
But now he was grown, even a station chief—and still, no matter how many poachers you caught, another batch always came.
They were like locusts. Endless. Impossible to wipe out.
Just as the chief was preparing to go find Lin Jiangye, they heard a car approaching.
They turned—and a heavy armored vehicle rolled into view. Beside it stood a powerful stag.
When Shang Fuyan yanked the captured poacher down, everyone fell silent.
Well… how should they put it—what a gigantic pig head.
Before anyone could speak, a white blur shot past them. A scream rang out across the snow.
They looked—and saw the white sika deer viciously kicking the poacher, every strike landing neatly on the injured spot.
The pain hit so hard it nearly shattered the man’s soul—his eyes rolling back.
“S-save me… please… police… where are the police…” he begged weakly, but every officer nearby suddenly seemed to have urgent business. One after another, they all became extremely busy.
Hey—no law says an animal taking revenge is illegal, right? So… who cares.
While the white deer was beating the poacher, the chief even slipped over to Lin Jiangye and muttered, “You two went way too hard on him. He’s swollen into a pig head. How are we supposed to explain this?”
That’s not easy to brush off.
Shang Fuyan pointed at the calm, steady Deer King nearby and lowered his voice. “Pig head was Deer King’s handiwork… uh, hoofwork.”
Just like the white deer was doing now: once they caught the poacher, the Deer King rushed over and paid him back in full.
And since the poacher’s hands were cuffed and his body tied up, he had nowhere to run—he could only take it until he looked like this.
The chief’s chest seized. Watching the white deer’s revenge, he suddenly felt phantom pain himself.
When the deer finally finished venting, it slammed into Lin Jiangye’s arms.
[Mama… is gone, wuwu!]
Tears slid slowly out of almond-shaped eyes. The white deer leaned against Lin Jiangye and let its grief spill out without restraint.
Meanwhile, deeper in the forest, a man with a blood-soaked arm was running for his life.
His gun, walkie-talkie, and phone were all gone—not because he threw them away, but because the beast chasing him had slapped him across the back with one massive claw, tearing his entire backpack off.
He didn’t have time to turn back. If he slowed even a fraction, the next claw would land on his body.
And then he wouldn’t just lose a phone—he’d lose his life.
Just as he thought he’d finally put enough distance between them and could stop to tend his wound, he suddenly felt a wave of heat above his head.
His whole body went stiff.
Slowly, he looked up—
A huge tiger was crouched on the tree above, staring down at him.
“Aaahhh—!” His shriek was swallowed by the tiger’s roar, the sound rolling outward, spreading across the entire mountain range.
[Human—get out of this mountain!]
