Chapter 18: Rapid-Fire Shots…

They said they’d leave tomorrow, but in reality, if Fang Dahai truly wanted to go hunting, there were quite a few things he needed to prepare. It wasn’t something he could just up and do on a whim.

First of all, for hunting, you need a proper set of bow and arrows. Of course, if possible, it would be better to have a mùcāng (a euphemism for a firearm), as that would be safer. Throwing knives were also a must-have—these days, there were plenty of bandits and thugs out there. Bows and firearms were easy to spot, but throwing knives could be carried close to the body and used for a surprise counterattack at a critical moment.

So, although they said they’d leave the next day, Fang Dahai didn’t actually head out. Instead, he wandered around looking for a blacksmith shop, hoping to find the right tools for the job.

To his disappointment, even after combing through the entire southern and northern parts of the city, he couldn’t find a single shop selling bows or throwing knives. Why was that?

Simple: because this was the capital, a city full of scholars and civil officials. Aside from kitchen knives, firewood cleavers, and watermelon slicers, most ironware really had no use here.

At first, Fang Dahai’s thinking was still stuck in the mindset of the Ming Dynasty—he assumed blacksmiths would naturally sell such things. But after making a full round and realizing there weren’t any, he finally came to his senses and recognized his mistake. The next day, he went to a nearby town closer to the mountains.

Just because the capital didn’t have any, didn’t mean smaller towns wouldn’t. In these times, there were still plenty of people who hunted for a living. Where there’s demand, there would be supply.

Sure enough, in one of the surrounding towns, Fang Dahai easily found what he was looking for—throwing knives, broadswords, all exquisitely made. Even better, he stumbled upon a shop that specialized in bows and arrows. It was supposedly run by a descendant of a master bowyer from the Qing Dynasty’s Imperial Workshop, and they sold military-style bows.

“Back in the day, even the cavalry of the Monk King used bows made by my ancestors. They were top-notch.”

Fang Dahai ignored the vendor’s endless bragging and simply tested the bows one by one in silence.

“This is a 5-stone bow?” he asked.

“That’s right! Judging by your handling, you seem like a skilled archer—could tell right away, huh?”

“Too light. Military bows should be at least 6-stone. Shopkeeper, don’t try to fool me.”

Now that was something the shopkeeper couldn’t take lying down. His family had been in this business for generations—being accused of swindling? He had to set the record straight.

“If you want to talk standards, let me tell you this. Back during Emperor Kangxi’s reign, the army’s assessment standard was 7-stone. But what happened later? By the time of Yongzheng and Qianlong, the Eight Banners only required 6-stone. Each generation got weaker. By Emperor Xianfeng’s reign, even the imperial-issued golden peachwood bows were just 5-stone. So judging whether a bow is military-grade just by draw weight isn’t accurate. Besides, who were those bows made for? Cavalry! How many cavalrymen were burly types? Being agile and skilled in horsemanship was more important. So using 5-stone bows was entirely reasonable.”

Damn, just trying to buy a bow turned into a whole lecture on the historical decline of Qing military standards? They say Beijingers love to argue, and now it seems the towns nearby aren’t far behind!

“Alright, my bad,” Fang Dahai said. “Then may I ask—do you have a 6-stone bow?”

In his past life, though he wasn’t exactly a powerhouse, he had used some serious bows. A 7-stone bow was his daily standard. Against tough opponents, he could go toe-to-toe with an 8-stone. On rare occasions, he could even manage a few shots with a 9-stone bow—accuracy might dip, but it was doable. With that kind of combat experience, a 5-stone bow felt like a toy, even if his current body hadn’t been fully trained yet.

The shopkeeper was sharp too. He could tell this teenager’s apology wasn’t exactly sincere, and the kid clearly looked down on his main product. That got under his skin. Puffing his cheeks and glaring, he shot back:

“What do you mean we don’t have it? We’ve got 7-stone, 8-stone—you name it! But you, a half-grown kid, think you can handle that?”

“Heh, shopkeeper, you’re underestimating me. How do you know I can’t handle it? Why don’t you bring one out and I’ll show you?”

That really got the shopkeeper fired up. He wanted to throw back a few sharp words, but when he looked again at the boy’s youthful face, his heart softened a bit. After a pause, half out of irritation and half in genuine concern, he said:

“Hey kid, are you even fifteen yet? Not even an adult, and already trying to show off. Don’t hurt yourself just to prove a point.”

To be honest, while the tone was still rough, the meaning behind his words was genuinely well-intentioned. But Fang Dahai, now properly annoyed by the repeated doubts, wasn’t in the mood to appreciate that. All he could think was how irritating this shopkeeper was. Wasn’t he the customer? Couldn’t he decide what to buy himself? Since when did buying something depend on whether the seller approved?

So with a scowl, he said:

“And how do you know I’m just showing off? How can you be so sure I’ll get hurt? Ha! Now I really have to prove it. Come on—bring out all your bows. I’ll show you what I can do.”

They hadn’t been keeping their voices down, and the shop wasn’t very big. People inside and out could hear everything. With the argument going on for a while, sure enough, a crowd quickly formed—twenty or thirty people at least. The Chinese love of a good spectacle is, after all, long-standing and deeply ingrained.

And with an audience gathering, of course there were people stirring the pot. Just as Fang Dahai’s voice fell, someone in the crowd piped up:

“Old Luo, he’s gone this far—what are you waiting for? Hurry and bring out your best stuff. Let the young man try it out! Who knows, maybe he’ll take some of that unsold inventory off your hands!”

“Yes, yes, yes. Everyone uses guns these days—your stuff is outdated. You can’t make babies with it either. What’s the point of hiding it? Hurry up and bring it out so we can feast our eyes.”

“I think this young man seems confident. Maybe he really does have skills. Old Luo, they say it’s better to deceive the old than the young. Who knows, maybe you misjudged him.”

Ha! There were some sharp-tongued folks in the crowd. Just listen to how well they’re fanning the flames. If things fizzled out now, it wouldn’t matter much to Fang Dahai—he could just stop coming by. But Old Luo? He lived here. If things went south, where would he put his face?

So sure enough, in just a short while, Old Luo caved. He actually let someone go fetch a few of the treasured bows from his house—real quality stuff. And to save face, he even dug himself a little hole and said:

“I won’t take advantage of you. I’ll let you show off your skills for free. If you really can draw them and shoot well, no questions asked—you can pick one you like from the bunch and take it with you. I’ll consider it making friends with a real man.”

Whoa! Such a good deal? With his level of skill, it’s practically a freebie. As expected, having a solid skill really does bring peace of mind.

“Alright then, how do you want to shoot? Hit a willow leaf? Shoot coins? Or just set up a target? On horseback? On foot? You brought the bows, so you decide.”

Was that even a real question? The moment Fang Dahai opened his mouth, he sounded so professional that Old Luo immediately realized—this time, he was probably dealing with a real expert. His face turned pale, then red, back and forth, before he finally smacked his lips, cast a heartbroken glance at his beloved bows, and helplessly said:

“Alright. Looks like these bows of mine are about to find a new owner. Forget horseback shooting—where would we even find a warhorse right now? Let’s just stick with foot archery. It’s hard to find gourds or pigeons right now too—let’s just use a regular target. I have one at home.”

Not only did he have one—because this area was near the mountains, many households here had at least some skill in archery. So targets weren’t rare. They didn’t even need to wait for Old Luo to fetch his; someone nearby who’d come to watch had already brought one over.

“No need to look—I’ve already got one here! Let’s get started. Haven’t seen such a lively event in years.”

Sure, it was lively, but wasn’t your enthusiasm a bit too much?

Nope. Not even close. The real enthusiasm was just getting started. Look around—the whole street was surrounded. People had even started climbing onto rooftops. What’s more, they had just cleared a space and set up the target, and while Fang Dahai was still testing the bow, a chorus of “Make way!” came from the back of the crowd. Several bodyguard-like men came through, followed by a group carrying tables and stools. They set them down, and then came seven or eight middle-aged men, finely dressed and exuding wealth.

No need to ask—it was the town’s rich folk who’d heard the commotion and come to check it out. But still… this whole scene—why did it feel so absurd? Had everyone forgotten there was still a war going on outside?

Fang Dahai’s mouth twitched, but he couldn’t say anything. He turned to check on the shopkeeper—only to find, good grief, the man had already run over to fawn on those wealthy men.

Well then. No need to guess. Those must be the ones in charge around here.

“Oh my, Mayor Wang, what brings you here? Lord Ye, Master Jin, Boss Qiu, Boss Niu—you all came too? And brought your young masters as well? My, my, I, Old Luo, really feel honored today!”

“Haha, Shopkeeper Luo, don’t be modest. We heard you’re following the ways of the ancients—testing skill and giving away treasured bows. Such an elegant affair—how could we miss it?”

Ugh. How pretentious. Clearly they just came to watch the show, but they had to dress it up as some kind of refined gathering. And the leader was actually the town mayor? No wonder they were doomed to lose the war later—they were totally neglecting their duties.

Fang Dahai silently grumbled to himself, clearly unimpressed. But he didn’t let it show on his face. He just glanced at Old Luo again.

Seeing Old Luo give him a small, discreet nod, Fang Dahai turned back to the target. He walked over, carefully adjusted it to be perfectly upright, then paced backwards step by step until he had gone fifty paces. Suddenly, he spun around, bow in one hand, three iron arrows pinched between his fingers. He drew, released—arrow after arrow, all in one fluid motion—until all three arrows hit the bullseye, nearly simultaneously. Only then did he exhale deeply and slowly lower the 6-strength bow.

“Bravo!!”

Fang Dahai’s movements—from turning around to shooting—were so seamless, so fast, that most of the crowd felt like they’d just blinked and the arrows had already hit the target. At first, they were stunned. Only when Old Luo was the first to shout did everyone snap out of it. But by then, they were completely amazed. The way they looked at Fang Dahai—it was like staring at a priceless treasure.

“Holy crap, that was fast!”

“My god, isn’t a gun supposed to be faster than a bow within 50 meters? Why did it feel like this guy was faster than a gun?”

“T-three arrows in one go? Heaven above—was that the legendary triple-shot arrow technique?”

“Incredible, absolutely incredible. If this were the Qing dynasty, he could’ve passed the military exams for sure.”

“Definitely got what it takes to be an imperial guard!”

What nonsense! Still, even Fang Dahai himself couldn’t help feeling proud. After all, ever since arriving in this third life, even though his arm strength was weaker than in the Ming dynasty due to age and time, his eyesight and aim were sharper than ever. With this skill, hunting for a living should be no problem at all!

That alone was enough to make him feel joy in his heart.

However, since the 6-pull bow felt pretty easy… maybe I can give the 7-pull one a try too!

Fang Dahai’s eyes swept toward the nearby table, eyeing the remaining few bows with growing eagerness.