Time was limited, so this was the best he could do for now.

A depth of one meter couldn’t stop prey with a strong vertical leap from escaping, but it was enough to contain smaller predators, like porcupines.

If nothing else, a sudden fall from where the bait was placed would cause the prey’s own weight to drive it down hard onto the sharpened branch spears.

It might not die, but it would definitely get injured.

After setting the trap, he used branches and stones to build a channel on either side, guiding prey toward its location.

This method looked incredibly stupid, but according to Andre, it was surprisingly effective at times.

Animals don’t have clever brains like humans; most just follow established game trails.

When a relatively easy path appears, they’ll instinctively follow it, which is why so many tourists have chance encounters with animals like black bears, elephants, or sika deer by the side of the road.

"Whew... It’s about time to head back. The rest is up to luck."

He whispered to the camera, then got his bearings and started walking toward the shelter.

Visibility in the forest was slowly decreasing as the sun sank in the west. If the trees by the river weren’t mainly conifers of a more manageable height, it would probably already be too dark to see the path.

Lin Chen had only been walking back from the trap area for a few minutes when he suddenly heard a faint noise ahead and to his left, like two stones clacking together.

He immediately stopped in his tracks, thinking he had imagined it.

He listened intently for a moment. In the forest, there was only the long, rhythmic chirping of crickets.

’Strange. Was that just a dry branch hitting a rock? Am I being too paranoid?’

He shook his head and had just taken a few more steps forward.

CLACK.

The familiar sound rang out again, and this time, it was joined by a high-pitched bleat.

’Holy shit, a sheep???’

If he couldn’t recognize that sound, he might as well just quit the competition right now.

He immediately drew a fletched arrow and nocked it on his bowstring. He crept toward the source of the sound, doing his best to avoid stepping on the dry twigs and leaves on the ground.

As a young chef, his other skills might not be top-notch, but his patience was extraordinary.

He moved patiently from tree to tree, crouching low and constantly changing his angle to get a better view.

After about seven or eight minutes, he could just make out a few white shapes moving through the dense bushes in the distance.

’Dai’s Plateau Sheep?!’

He didn’t even need a clear look; Lin Chen knew instantly what they were.

Aside from Snow Sheep, the only other kind of wild sheep you could find in Alaska was the Dai’s Plateau Sheep.

Snow Sheep generally live in the Arctic, and this area wasn’t far enough north. So this had to be a herd of Dai’s Plateau Sheep.

He knew all this because he had researched the local wildlife online before the competition.

Dai’s Plateau Sheep are most famous for the horns of the adult rams. Unlike other sheep, their horns grow into a spiral, taking about eight years to form a full curl.

With Dai’s Plateau Sheep, the mature rams travel in their own groups, while the ewes travel with the young. The two groups only meet during the breeding season in November and December.

Judging from the high-pitched bleating, this had to be a herd of ewes with their young.

The gestation period for Dai’s Plateau Sheep is about six months, so they give birth in early summer. It was now late October, making the lambs less than five months old—a rambunctious age.

The clacking sound he’d heard was probably young rams playfully butting heads.

At the thought of fresh, succulent lamb, Lin Chen’s mouth began to water, and he swallowed hard.

Dai’s Plateau Sheep are a type of bighorn sheep, so their meat is naturally less gamey than goat. Lamb is even less so. If he could just bag one or two...

"Shh. Folks watching at home, wish me luck,"

he murmured to the GoPro in barely a whisper. He didn’t move any closer, instead taking aim right through the dense thicket.

’Lamb or ewe, it didn’t matter. A hit was a hit!’

The arrowhead moved back and forth, tracking through gaps in the foliage. He gauged the wind, searching for the best line of fire to avoid his arrow being deflected by a branch.

There seemed to be quite a few sheep in the herd behind the thicket. He could see several bouncing white shapes, a sight that perfectly matched the profile of a Dai’s Plateau Sheep ewe flock.

Suddenly.

As if sensing danger, two horned heads shot up without warning, letting out sharp "BAA" cries.

Lin Chen’s eyes narrowed to a slit, and his fingers suddenly loosed the bowstring.

WHOOSH—

The arrow became a black blur as it shot through the bushes. Several finger-thick twigs snapped and fell, followed by a soft THUD.

"BAAA—"

Lin Chen was just nocking a second arrow when the herd behind the bushes exploded into chaos. A dozen or so white shapes scattered in a panic, fleeing in the opposite direction.

In the frantic moment, he didn’t have time to think. He quickly swung his bow, took a snap shot at a white blur moving in a relatively predictable path, and loosed another arrow.

In the dim light, the white blur immediately fell, but it quickly scrambled back to its feet.

Lin Chen burst forward, smoothly drawing another arrow as he sprinted. He vaulted the bushes, his eyes locked on the staggering, fleeing animal.

He drew the bow to a full moon, aiming for the largest target available: the sheep’s rear.

"THWACK!"

"Baaa~"

Though the arrow missed its rear, it struck its hind leg, punching clean through.

’My aim is still a bit off. Good thing it was only off vertically. A hit is a hit,’ he thought.

Two meters to his right, a lamb about as long as his thigh lay on the ground, its hooves kicking frantically. A fletched arrow had pierced its chest, striking the joint of its foreleg and rendering it unable to stand.

"Awesome! I hit two lambs!"

He first walked over to the lamb that had run farther and dragged it back. He hefted it; it weighed only about twenty kilograms. A true spring lamb.

Leaving the arrows in them, he gathered some tough, dry grass and used it to tie the legs of both lambs.

"Now I have a problem. How do I get them both back to the shelter?"

Carrying twenty kilograms wasn’t a problem—hauling it on his shoulder would be even easier. The issue was that there were two of them, and their shape made them awkward to handle.

They weren’t sacks that he could just pile up and carry off.

He didn’t want to kill them just yet. The blood was a valuable resource, so it would be best to process them back at his camp if possible.

After a moment’s thought, he simply chopped down a sturdy sapling, stripped off all its branches, then used his grass ropes to hang the two lambs by their legs from either end.

He squatted, settled the wooden pole onto his shoulder, gripped it with both hands, then drove with his legs and—with a grunt—pushed himself to his feet.