That shout really stirred up a hornet's nest.
The young people, who initially had no idea what was going on, suddenly became incredibly energetic, as if they'd been injected with adrenaline.
He grabbed his own hunting rifle and rushed out the door, howling loudly.
The older women reacted quickly, grabbing candles, joss paper, and incense sticks and running outside.
Tigers! Those are the mountain kings!
It's not even the Lantern Festival yet, and the Mountain God has come to the village, so we have to pay our respects and pray for a peaceful and smooth year ahead.
The old village chief was stunned by the chaotic scene and couldn't get anything out of them no matter how much he shouted. Finally, having no other choice, he threw the gong down at home, grabbed a pitchfork, and hurriedly rushed to the village committee.
When Zhang Cheng arrived at the village committee, Zhang Jucai and his group had already arrived, each carrying a hunting rifle, crouching low, and sneaking around the area.
When Li Yuanyuan arrived with the old village chief, everyone swarmed around her.
"Li Zhiqing, where is Lord Shan? We haven't seen him."
"Comrade Li, please point me in the right direction!"
With so many people watching, Li Yuanyuan's fear subsided considerably. She pointed southeast, "The tiger is over there!"
Splash!
A large group of people, like people going to a market, surged toward the direction Li Yuanyuan pointed out.
"Hey, Sister Hua, why are you pushing? You're blocking the way!"
"You old folks don't know anything! When you meet the Mountain Lord, you have to offer incense and kowtow first! I'm warning you, no one is allowed to fire a shot! If you meet him in the mountains, you can do whatever you want, but now that the Mountain Lord has entered the village, if anyone dares to lay a hand on him, I'll fight you to the death!" Aunt Hua said, hands on her hips, spitting as she spoke.
They hadn't run far when they saw it. In the snow, a large, striped tiger was lying there.
"roar!!!"
Seeing so many people coming in droves, the tiger suddenly raised its head, roared, and propped itself up, its eyes filled with ferocity.
Everyone instinctively stopped in their tracks, holding their breath.
At such close range, the tiger's intimidating presence was truly formidable, making one's heart pound with fear.
"The tiger is injured!" Old Aunt Hua had the sharpest eyes. She saw that the tiger's hind legs were limp and hanging on the snow, with bloodstains frozen to a dark brown color around them.
"What happened? Did we step into a trap in the mountains? But wait, the mountains are snowbound now, the traps would have been buried by the snow long ago," someone muttered.
“Something’s not right, look at this wound…look at its right hind foot,” an old hunter stepped closer and examined it carefully, “It’s from a trap, and not just any trap…”
This reminded everyone of something. A couple of years ago, during the ironware confiscation drive, every household had a lot of ironware, not just animal traps, but even kitchen knives. Now, in these nearby villages, who still has a large iron trap that can catch a tiger's leg?
"It can't be some outsider who deliberately brought their weapons into the mountains to hunt tigers, can it?"
"In this freezing weather, who would be so stupid as to dare to go into the mountains?"
"What should we do then? Maybe... kill it?" someone suggested in a low voice.
The tiger's hind legs are crippled, and it can't even stand up. If a dozen guns were to fire at once, it definitely wouldn't survive.
"Who dares to fire?!"
"Don't open it! A tiger that enters the village is a mountain king! Offending the mountain king will bring retribution!"
The older women were the first to object, each one raising their voice higher than the last.
The men looked at each other, bewildered. They too had grown up hearing these stories; if a tiger entered the village, it could only be driven away, not killed. That was the old rule.
Seeing the men standing there at a loss, the group of old women were not to be outdone. They took out the yellow paper, candles, and incense they had brought, knelt down in front of the roaring tiger, and muttered incantations.
Aunt Zhao pulled a large piece of wolf meat from her bosom—presumably one she'd saved for the New Year—and threw it at the tiger from a distance. Then she knelt on the ground, clasped her hands together, and prayed, "May the mountain spirit protect us..."
Then, several older women also threw over their treasured cured meats and smoked meats.
The old village chief frowned, seeing that the tiger was indeed badly injured, and felt a little relieved. He tiptoed through the crowd, found Zhang Cheng, and leaned over to whisper, "Er Gouzi, what do you think we should do about this?"
Zhang Cheng also gave a wry smile, "Uncle, how would I know what to do about this?"
Don't say old ladies are superstitious... He himself has been reborn, so he actually believes in these things a little. Who would dare not believe?
The large, striped tiger propped itself up on its front legs, letting out a low growl. Its eyes flashed with ferocity as it ignored the meat being thrown at it, its gaze fixed on the group of people forty or fifty meters away.
After fussing for more than ten minutes, the old ladies had finished their prayers, thrown away the meat, and left, satisfied, supporting each other.
The rest were all grown men, carrying hunting rifles and holding pitchforks, looking at each other, still unsure of what to do.
"Village chief, give me an answer! What are we going to do?" Zhang Jucai said impatiently.
The old village chief wore a bitter expression. If this were in the mountains, with their superior numbers and guns, they would have taken care of the beast without a second thought. But it had to wander into the village. A tiger that enters the village is like a mountain deity, deserving of offerings…
"How about... we just let it go!" Zhang Jianhao suggested in a low voice. "Anyway, Lord Mountain Lord is injured and can't even get up. Once it recovers, it'll probably leave!"
“The swordsman is right,” someone agreed.
"What if it stops moving?" someone else asked, expressing concern.
Everyone fell silent again.
"Er Gouzi, what do you think?" Uncle Han gripped the pitchfork in his hand and looked at Zhang Cheng, who hadn't said much.
Zhang Cheng frowned. "I'm curious now, how exactly did Lord Shanjun get this injury?"
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