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I picked a suitable twig from among the bunch that had fallen off a branch lying around. When I wrapped it in Chi, it gave off a powerful kind of feeling, and the twig was completely covered in energy. It felt like a thin film of light was surrounding it. It was kind of like a lightsaber! When I swung it around, it felt like it was making lightsaber noises, and it seriously hyped me up!

Keeping that excitement going, I swung the twig at a nearby tree trunk to chop it down.

With a crashing sound, the trunk shattered. It wasn’t cut—it felt more like it had been snapped apart. The branch I was holding also broke apart into pieces. It was like it exploded from the inside, splintering everywhere. The tree, too, looked like it had been forcibly snapped rather than cleanly cut.

(Hmm… what’s going on here? If I just judge from the situation, maybe the twig I was holding didn’t have enough sharpness to actually cut? Since I only wrapped it in Chi, all I really did was make it into a “sturdy stick”…)

And then, since I’d put enough force into it to snap the tree, the stick just couldn’t handle the strain… or something like that.

The way the twig shattered made it feel like it would’ve broken even faster if I’d put more Chi into it.

So, it seemed that turning a random stick into a weapon with Chi was harder than I thought.

Maybe at best, I could increase its durability a little—but if I put in too much, it would shatter.

(But maybe if it’s just pinpoint reinforcement, I won’t need to pour that much Chi in?
If I make only the tip as strong as iron—like a weight on a chain—won’t it turn into something like a mace? No, no, no! I’m not trying to make a mace here; I’m trying to chop down trees! Then maybe I should just create a narrow reinforced line. If I can wrap the stick with a thin, razor-sharp, durable blade of Chi… I might be able to pull it off. It’s worth a shot.)

I picked up a fresh twig and crouched in front of a tree. The tip… well, in this case, the tip of the twig. I lowered the tip to my lower right and took a waki-gamae stance.¹　

Breathing out slowly, I began pouring Chi into the twig. As little as possible, but thin and sharp like a razor.

(Ah—wow, this is really hard?! Inside the branch, it feels all bumpy and uneven!)

It was true that Chi flowed through easily, but it was super irregular.

If a sword were like a paved road, this twig would be a rough wasteland. It takes in Chi well enough, but it was bumping all over the place and not flowing smoothly. If I forced it through, it felt like it would snap. The fine control here was insanely difficult!

(Hmm, maybe I’ve just found what I’m going to work on during this trial. Well, that’s for later—first, let’s finish the task in front of me.)

Still crouched, I gave a short breath and swung the twig.

In an instant, the tree trunk I’d struck slid down to the side and then toppled to the ground. The vibration of it hitting the earth came up through my feet.

(Hmm… I guess it worked?)

The trunk was cut, but the twig I was holding was already falling apart.

(Yeah, this is going to need more practice. Still, if I master this, it’d be pretty awesome, wouldn’t it? Just picking up a branch lying around and slicing down enemies left and right—that’s got some real master swordsman vibes! Hehe, okay, I’m definitely going to practice this more.)

After that, I cut down the felled trees into lengths of about 30–40 centimeters each, just long enough to fit into a hearth.

I kept wrapping the twigs in Chi to cut up even more twigs, using it as more practice. Sometimes it worked well, sometimes not. The whole process ended up taking quite some time.

When I had a stack of even-length twigs, I used magic. Combining the three attributes of fire, wind, and water, I cast Dry. It drew out the water from inside the wood and dried it with hot wind.

Fresh wood turning into firewood in an instant… yeah, magic really was a cheat. Normally, you’d have to dry firewood for about two years before it is good.

With the undergrowth cleared and the firewood stacked, the campsite finally felt right.

The firewood-making doubled as training, but it took longer than I thought. It was already past 4 o’clock.

Spring days were still short. The sun would be setting soon.

Normally, for the first day, just securing the campsite would be enough…

But I still had time, so I decided to also go hunting! I’d already sensed prey within range! So it would be quick to go and bag something!

I could see my target about 100 meters east of here.

I put my sword back in its holster and got my gear in order. Then I quietly moved toward the prey.

Of course, I wasn’t going to sprint like an idiot—I stayed within the bounds of fast but reasonable. I was also being watched, so I had to at least show that much consideration.

I kept my footsteps quiet as I approached. The spot was a small valley with a stream flowing through it. From behind a rock by the stream, something poked its nose out, sniffing. A Jackalope. Maybe it had come to drink while keeping watch for predators.

It was about 20 meters away.

It was sniffing and scanning its surroundings, but since I was downwind, it hadn’t noticed me yet. I wasn’t using any special concealment skills—just holding my breath and approaching naturally.

Still, that alone might have been enough to make my presence vanish, like blending into the rocks.

I pulled a throwing knife from the sheath on my waist and held it in my right hand. Without hesitation, I threw it while holding it by its blade. The knife spun vertically at high speed, skimming low across the ground toward my target.

The Jackalope’s ears twitched at the sound of air being split, but the next instant the blade buried itself between its eyes. Its head jerked back from the impact, then it went still.

(Yes! Got it!)

It was pretty big—about a meter long, close to the size of a Shiba Inu.

(That should be enough food for a few days.)

Since I was already at a water source, I decided to butcher it here.

I took a thin rope from one of the pouches on my belt, tied the Jackalope’s back legs together, and fastened it to a low branch.

Then I began skinning it with the sheath knife that had been tied to my leg.

This method—cutting into the groin and peeling downward while leaving the legs intact—looked pretty graphic from the side.

When I was first taught, I found it pretty gross… but I got used to it right away. My tolerance for gore had likely gone way up since coming here. I didn’t think I had gotten desensitized in a bad way—I had probably just expanded my mental capacity.

With a quick pull, I peeled the hide downward, just like taking off a shirt.

I cut off the horns and ears and removed the pelt until only meat was left. I then lowered the Jackalope from the branch, carried it to the stream’s edge, opened its belly, and removed the organs.

I washed everything thoroughly in the running water, cleaning away the blood.

The meat itself could be eaten tonight, but it wouldn’t taste great without aging for 2–3 days. So tonight would be an organ party!

Fresh jackalope innards were quite delicious!

(Oops, drooling is not ladylike at all! I shouldn’t do that!)