Chapter 54

Around noon, Qin Yun abandoned the search for deer sinew and finally found a patch of old vine grape tendrils.

“No choice—I have to use the vines as bowstring. It’s a last resort. Hand-twisted vine string can’t match deer sinew or wild boar bristle string; though the draw weight is sufficient, all other properties fall short.”

Qin Yun said this to the camera, then picked up a stone knife, cut the vines, and carried them to a relatively flat rock surface. He immediately smashed the outer skin of the vines with stones.

“What’s the streamer going to do with such thick vines?”

“Are you just going to use them as-is? That can’t be right?”

“Are you illiterate up there? Obviously you use the inner fibers of the vine.”

Qin Yun laughed: “It’s normal you don’t know—after all, who spends time studying this?”

Viewers who had been slightly annoyed immediately replied: “Exactly—don’t call him illiterate. No one’s omniscient; how could they know all this?”

“Pfft… you know a little and start showing off. Learn from the streamer.”

Qin Yun calmed them down a bit and continued: “See these white things inside the vine? That’s the fiber. I need to tear it into thin strands, then twist and spin them. No complicated method needed—I used to know some carpentry, so I’ll use the traditional method for twisting hemp rope.”

As he spoke, he began tearing the fibers; fine white strands were pulled aside and soon piled up on the ground.

Although he mentioned using a carpentry method to twist hemp rope, the online viewers heard it but had no idea how it actually worked.

“There are many carpentry methods for twisting hemp rope—some require tools, some don’t. Right now we’ll use the simplest: first, split the white fibers into two strands, hold one end in each hand, then use your palm to roll one strand forward along your calf to twist it—like this… when you reach the end, release it—the twisted strands will naturally coil together.”

In just a few words, Qin Yun twisted the loose fibers into a thin cord—but it wasn’t enough yet. He had to keep twisting until it wouldn’t snap.

Soon, a bowstring meeting his requirements was complete.

He then stripped the bark from the purple linden wood, placed the curved branch on a rock, braced both ends with his knees, and gently applied pressure to straighten the curve. With his current carving and carpentry skills, he could control the force with perfect precision.

After shaping the bow, he used the stone knife to carve notches at both ends—these would hold the bowstring in place and prevent slipping.

“The depth of these notches should be around 0.5 cm—just enough to grip the string without damaging the bow’s load-bearing structure.” Qin Yun finished speaking, then inserted one end of the string into the notch. Using the lever principle of the tree trunk—he pressed one end of the bow against the trunk, gripped the other end of the string with both hands, and pulled until the bow bent. He then slid the string into the opposite notch and secured it tightly with thin vine strips.

He held the finished bow up to the camera and smiled: “How’s that? Doesn’t it look like an actual bow now?”

“Streamer 666, your craftsmanship is unbeatable.”

“Incredible—you’re the most action-oriented person I’ve ever seen.”

“Awesome, streamer’s too strong.”

“BoLang tycoon, get your yuan ready.”

In a villa somewhere in China, a young man lay on his sofa watching the screen on his phone, muttering in amazement.

“This guy’s hands-on skills are impressive. But it better actually work… hehe…”

Qin Yun tugged the bowstring, studied it, and said: “The bow is 1.2 meters long, with a draw weight of only 20 kilograms, weighing less than half a kilo. I estimate its effective range at a bit over twenty meters. It’s not great, but in the forest, this range and power are enough—hunting pheasants or rabbits is child’s play.”

He slung the bow over his back: “Next comes the arrows. No matter how well you make the bow and string, without arrows, it’s useless.”

“For arrows, we’ll use simple pine wood—just sharpen the tips. Doesn’t have to be perfect, just functional.”

Qin Yun selected several straight, knot-free thin branches, used stones as files to smooth both ends, carved pointed tips, and notched the tails. Six usable arrows were completed.

“Since the arrowheads aren’t metal or stone, I’m going to test them with leaves.”

Qin Yun took down the bow, nocked an arrow, drew the string, and aimed at a leaf ten meters away.

“Streamer’s kinda hot.”

“666, perfect form.”

“Clearly this streamer’s trained.”

*Swoosh!*

He released the string—the arrow flew out and pierced straight through the center of the leaf. The live stream erupted with “666.” But what they didn’t see was Qin Yun’s face flushing red as he silently cursed: Damn it, I aimed at the left leaf—why’d it hit the right one?

He sighed. With hand-twisted gear, some deviation was normal. He just needed to compensate consciously when aiming.

Qin Yun drew and shot again—*swoosh*—the arrow pierced the left leaf.

“Streamer hits every shot—awesome.”

“Handmade and still effective? Streamer’s incredible.”

Qin Yun practiced a few more times, gained full confidence in his bow and arrows, then retrieved the arrows and said to the camera: “Alright, ready to strike. Whether we eat meat tonight depends on the next few hours.”

“My target is rabbits. So we need to know where they’re likely to move. Rabbits prefer the edges of shrubs, open spaces in the forest, or areas with tender grass and wild vegetation for foraging.”

Qin Yun walked a few hundred meters, then crouched down, studying footprints on the ground: “Second, rabbit footprints are two-part, front small and back large. The front prints look like tiny crescents; the hind prints are about three times larger, elongated ovals, with clear toe marks. Look—does that match what I said?”

He walked a little further and pointed to several small black spheres: “Guess what these are?”

“No need to guess—rabbit droppings.”

“Streamer’s treating us like idiots.”

Qin Yun smiled: “Correct. These are rabbit droppings—they’re left in feeding or resting areas. So rabbits are likely active nearby. Now it’s just patience. I need to find a concealed spot, but not too far from the rabbits—otherwise my bow won’t be useful.”

Qin Yun glanced around and decided to climb a nearby tree.

In no time, he was perched on a thick branch, half-crouching at its edge, his upper body leaning against the trunk. He pointed the camera down at the shrubs, scanning the surroundings occasionally—but for now, there was no movement.

He had patience. He glanced at the live chat and whispered: “I won’t speak anymore—don’t want to alert the animals.”

Honestly, Qin Yun was already starving. The insects and blueberries he’d eaten that morning did nothing. That’s why he went through all this trouble to make a bow—he needed meat.

Whether it was combat or climbing skills, his physical condition was far above average—but that also meant his body required enormous energy.

Qin Yun waited quietly. The drone hung motionless beside him. The original viewers had patience to watch him hunt, but many new viewers, seeing only the camera fixed on the forest floor, lost interest and left within moments.

Still, the viewer count hovered steadily around eight thousand.

After forty minutes, a rustling “shush-shush” came from the distant shrubs—the sound of vegetation brushing together. Qin Yun’s eyes lit up. He stared intently: a plump gray-white wild rabbit was slowly inching toward him.

Extremely alert—it paused every few steps, twitching its ears and sniffing the air.

As the rabbit drew closer, its form finally appeared on camera. The bored viewers suddenly perked up.

“Yoshi! The protagonist arrives.”

“Congratulations, Bunny—now you’re on the streamer’s radar.”

“So cute! How can the streamer eat the bunny?”

“You’re a dead gay—get out.”

“I finished an entire project, and now the rabbit shows up? Unprofessional.”

Regardless, the target had appeared. Qin Yun instantly snapped to attention. He gripped the bow in one hand, two fingers of his left hand holding the arrow—not rushing to act.

The rabbit was at least twenty meters away. Though within range, the kill wasn’t guaranteed. If he missed or only wounded it, he’d be hungry again tonight.

He was now like a lurking predator, fixed on his prey, waiting for the perfect moment.

When the rabbit appeared within ten meters, Qin Yun could clearly see its details with the naked eye.

The rabbit looked plump—clearly well-fed. Its blood-red eyes scanned everywhere, nose twitching. It did look kind of cute.

But…

“Sorry, Mrs. Rabbit—I doubt you’d want your husband to find out…”

Qin Yun narrowed his eyes, drew the bow, aimed, and released—all in one fluid motion.

In the live stream, a sharp *swish* of the string rang out. The rabbit, moments ago still twitching its ears, was flipped onto its back, convulsing violently. Then a figure dropped down beside it.

As viewers saw Qin Yun lift the rabbit, grinning, the chat exploded.

“Worth every minute the streamer waited.”

“Incredible—from making the bow to taking the rabbit, just as the streamer predicted.”

“Awesome, unbeatable. If it were me, I’d be eating bugs for life.”

“666~666~”

At that moment, a string of Carnival gifts flooded the screen—BoLang had sent gifts.

BoLang: “Streamer, awesome. Respect. Ten Carnivals—just a small token.”

As Qin Yun climbed the tree with the rabbit, he saw the comment and replied immediately: “Thank you, BoLang, for the Carnivals. Much appreciated.”

This one wave brought in 21,000 yuan—more than most people earn in a month slaving over code in an office cubicle.

Qin Yun removed the drone, reactivated its flight mode, and smiled: “Good—everything went smoothly. Now I need to find a suitable spot to start a fire. I can’t live like a savage.”

He secured the rabbit, surveyed the surroundings, and shrugged: “This place clearly violates fire safety rules. I must find a compliant campsite—otherwise, before the authorities shut down my stream, I’ll be invited for a tea chat.”

“What counts as a compliant campsite? First, it must be far from vegetation. Second, within ten meters, there must be no dry grass, fallen leaves, or low shrubs. Let’s go—while there’s still daylight, find such a spot, set up camp, and I’ll show you how to make fire.”

“If you’re in the wild without a lighter, matches, or any modern tech, you can use our ancestors’ method—fire by friction.”

“Seriously? You’re really going to drill wood? Can’t you just bring a lighter?”

“I’ve seen online videos—drilling wood is brutal. You might rub your hands raw and still not ignite anything.”

“Streamer’s choosing unnecessary suffering—hahaha.”

“Looking forward to the streamer’s wood drilling.”

Qin Yun walked as he spoke: “The key to fire by friction is dryness. If your wood or tinder isn’t dry, you’re wasting effort. Everyone knows fire by friction—but many don’t know there are three methods: hand drill, bow drill, and rope drill. Hand drill is exhausting and unreliable. Today, I’ll use the bow drill method.”