I'm not in a hurry; it's autumn now. The waterfowl have all grown plump and strong after months of preparation.

Around noon, they usually like to hide in the shade of trees or play or rest near the aquatic plants on the lake shore.

The waterbirds here are so numerous that they are overflowing. After walking for a while, I spotted a black figure preening its feathers on the water near a willow tree.

When I saw the distinctive white feathers on its chest, I knew I had found my target – a white-faced moorhen!

If this thing existed in my old world, let alone getting this close, it would be very difficult to even catch a glimpse of it.

And now, besides this one, there are several other similar black figures slowly swimming on the water further away.

I wasn't going to hunt the ones further away, and it would be too much trouble to retrieve them from the lake anyway, so the white-faced moorhen closest to the shore was my target.

I put the arrow back into the blowgun, aimed the dark tube at the water chicken on the water's surface, and blew hard.

The arrow flew swiftly, striking the waterfowl in the chest. It merely thrashed about in pain a few times before lying motionless, leaving a trail of crimson ripples on the water.

I used a branch to slowly pry the dead water chicken to the shore, picked it up, and weighed it; it should weigh about two pounds.

The arrow pierced through the water chicken's body, with most of the arrow shaft protruding outside. The arrow itself was now a bright red color.

With such terrifying power, all that time I spent was definitely worthwhile.

I continued walking forward. There were plenty of waterfowl in this area, so I wasn't worried about prey. Soon I found another moorhen resting under the shade of a tree.

As usual, I put an arrow in its mouth and pinned it to the ground. It quickly fell asleep, and another water chicken was added to my collection. This was much faster than setting a trap.

I now have two moorhens and a great egret, one arrow per prey. It seems my blowgun skills haven't deteriorated. When I was a child, I could use this to hunt down quite a few sparrows to eat.

I continued walking along the willow grove when a brownish-gray waterbird caught my attention not far away. Its head was constantly burrowing into the water plants on the lake shore, probably looking for food. I couldn't make out what kind of bird it was.

However, its size seemed suitable to me. I nocked an arrow and aimed at the waterbird. With a whoosh, the arrow pierced through the water, leaving a trail of red mist before plunging into the depths.

The tan-colored waterbird had no idea what was happening. It had just spread its wings and hadn't even had a chance to flap them before it lay flat and motionless on the water's surface, with only blood flowing out and staining the water red.

I shoved it over, picked it up, and wow, it turned out to be a bar-headed duck. These wild ducks don't usually grow very big, and the one I had was already considered large, probably weighing around three pounds.

Great, another spotted duck in the bag!

As I continued walking, a green-headed waterbird came into view. This one was much larger than the previous bar-headed duck, and its round body looked very plump.

Okay, I'll take it!

Another arrow was loaded, and it was fired. The waterbird met its demise without any surprise.

I pulled it to the shore; it was a mallard. This type of wild duck is also an ancestor of domestic ducks, and they look similar to domestic ducks, except that their feathers have a better metallic sheen.

This mallard was a size bigger than the spotted duck, probably weighing around four pounds.

I took out my bamboo water bottle and took a sip of water before continuing on my way. Although it was already autumn, the sun was still very strong.

After walking for a while, my head started to ache from the sun, so I thought I might as well go back. Anyway, we'd already caught enough prey for myself and Top to have two meals.

So I carried my basket and started walking back. Along the way, I shot a few more water birds, including wild ducks and moorhens, and also a small frog.

Just as I was about to head back, a large flock of elegant white figures slowly descended from the sky. Were they geese?

My first impression was that these weren't white geese, but a flock of genuine swans.

I hadn't paid much attention before, but I never expected to find such beautiful waterfowl as swans here. I imagine they must taste as delicious as they look.

An arrow was loaded into the blowgun and shot out with a whoosh. Instantly, a swan fell to the ground, its wings flapping wildly on the water.

After a short while, the waterbird, which weighed about seven or eight pounds, became still. The other swans, seeing this, seemed to understand what was happening and quickly flapped their wings and flew away from the area.

I put the large bird away. This time, the arrow didn't pierce through the body, but the entire arrow had sunk into the swan's body. It would be a miracle if it hadn't died.

Looking at the swan in my hand, I felt a pang of emotion. If this were in our society, it would probably have landed me in jail, but now, no one would even glance at me.

Today's catch has been quite plentiful. Carrying these prey on my back, I looked up and saw that the sun was already high in the sky. It was time for me to go back and get some food for lunch.

Back in the shed, I simply salted and grilled the great egret, and that was my lunch.

The sun was too strong, and I was too lazy to go out and forage for food any further. I processed all the water birds, except for the great swan, which I hung up to drain the water. I hung the rest of them together with beaver meat and smoked them with sugarcane residue.

After all this was done, it was time for the landlord to rest.

I climbed onto the tree bed because no boss came to call me to work, so I could only sleep comfortably under the shade of the tree until I naturally woke up.

I plan to eat the swan tonight, but I've never had the chance to eat it before and I don't know how to cook it well.

So I stir-fried the swan I caught during the day, and then stewed it like a regular stewed duck.

It has to be said that swan meat is really delicious; no wonder people say they want to eat swan meat too.

In the following period, I basically did nothing but go to the lake to collect fish, occasionally catch a few wild turtles to make soup, or take my blowgun to the lake to hunt some water birds.

Life went on leisurely for about a week. One day, I was hunting by the lake when I suddenly heard a sharp cry.

Then I remembered that the wild eggs I had tied to my body had been there for quite some time. I never expected that I would lay them at this time. Without waiting to continue hunting, I hurried home.

I probably went a little overboard with this project, and I completely forgot about making chicken coops.

I shook my head and smiled bitterly, rubbing my forehead. Have they gotten so used to this life of luxury that they've forgotten their own jobs?