Chapter 945 – Hunting the Grey-Furred Rabbit

Whether it was trap camouflage techniques or the fundamentals of hand bow marksmanship, Mo Lan mastered everything with extraordinary speed.

She always grasped the underlying principles quickly, and after just a few practice attempts could already perform with impressive skill. She could even extrapolate from what she’d learned, proposing clever little ideas that made others’ eyes light up.

This astonishing learning speed left Dominic utterly dumbfounded. After training ended, he couldn’t help but look Mo Lan up and down:

“Seriously, Moira! The druid path might really not be the best fit for you—ranger is your true calling! I’ve never seen any Elf pick these things up so fast! I was considered a fast learner back in my day, but compared to you…”

He shook his head with an expression that said “some people just make you feel inadequate.”

The moment Polly and Celine heard this, they immediately objected.

“Dominic, what nonsense are you spouting!” Polly planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Moira is a child of the Tree of Life—her Natural Affinity is terrifyingly high! Her talent on the druid path is every bit as strong as for the ranger path; she just hasn’t had the chance to show it yet!”

Celine chimed in as well: “Exactly. Besides, Moira is the one who triggered a natural resonance that lasted for months… That proves she’s naturally meant to be a druid who’s close to nature!”

The two of them were staunch advocates of the druid path, with deeply held professional convictions.

Dominic scratched his head, unconvinced but unable to argue against Mo Lan’s Natural Affinity. He could only mutter: “I-I never said being a druid is bad… I just think Moira has exceptional talent as a ranger, and it’d be a shame not to choose ranger as her main profession…”

Watching the three of them argue over which profession suited her best, Mo Lan said with amusement:

“Thank you all for believing in me! But I don’t think we need to decide a winner here. I love the way druids communicate with nature and protect it, and I love the freedom of rangers moving through the forest, taking only what’s needed. I also love how bards use art to convey emotion and beauty… Who knows, maybe I can walk all three paths!”

Polly was the first to shake her head, her face showing clear concern: “That would be far too difficult, Moira! Each profession requires an enormous amount of time and effort to cultivate. More importantly, the number of spells that the magic web can record is tied to your total reserves of forces of nature. If you spread yourself too thin, you might never reach a high level in any of them.”

“That’s right!” Dominic also set aside his joking manner and said seriously, “Being a jack of all trades and master of none is not a good thing. My father always says that only by focusing on a single path can you go deep and go far. If you try to take on too much, you might end up being mediocre at everything!”

Celine consoled her: “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to try everything and get a feel for each path first. Later, if you really feel it’s too draining to juggle them all, you can always have the extra profession marks removed from your magic web space. It’ll waste some time, but if there’s one thing we Elves have plenty of, it’s time. You can always adjust course.”

In their understanding and in the teachings of the tribe’s elders, no one had ever managed to maintain three main professions simultaneously without being held back.

A person’s energy was limited, and the magical energy one could master was finite as well. Spreading oneself too thin almost always meant mediocrity.

Even though they considered Mo Lan exceptionally gifted, they didn’t believe she could break this principle that was practically regarded as ironclad.

Mo Lan didn’t dwell further on the topic with them.

From the magic of the Seran world, she would only take the essence, using it to supplement her own existing spell repertoire and magical knowledge.

And the limitations of the magic web posed no problem for her—she simply wouldn’t depend on it.

Native spellcasters of the Seran world were introduced to the magic web from the very beginning of their training. Their casting habits, thought patterns, and even their understanding of magic’s fundamental nature were all deeply imprinted by the magic web. Trying to shed this dependency later on and break free from its established paradigm would undoubtedly be extremely difficult—but that didn’t mean she would face the same challenge. To her, the magic web was more like a convenient “external tool library” and “standard spell template repository.” She could use it to study spell models, but she would never allow her magical foundation to be built entirely upon it.

The next morning, sunlight had just begun to dispel the thin mist among the trees when Mo Lan was already suited up and ready to go.

She had changed into a set of close-fitting leather armor that Grandma Matil had altered for her overnight. At her waist hung the small hand bow and quiver Dominic had given her, loaded with several sharp ironwood arrows.

Polly, Celine, and Dominic had also gathered punctually beneath her treehouse to see her off.

“Here!” Celine handed over a small vine-woven pack containing a few pieces of emergency rations and a small bottle of purified water.

“We’ll be waiting at the agreed-upon spot. If there’s danger or you need help, use this whistle!” Polly pressed a small, delicate bone whistle made from a hollow bird bone into Mo Lan’s hand. “The sound carries very far!”

Dominic, fully armed himself, added: “Don’t worry! The moment that bone whistle sounds, every ranger in the village will come to your rescue—and that includes me!”

“Thank you, all of you.” Mo Lan carefully tucked the bone whistle away, and with her friends watching her go, she set out alone toward the low forest south of the tribe.

According to the rules of the ranger initiation ceremony, from the moment she entered the hunting grounds, she had to rely entirely on herself.

The low forest bordered the tribe’s territory. Its trees were relatively short and sparse, with ample sunlight, and thick undergrowth of bushes and grass. The simple ecosystem made it an ideal habitat for grey-furred rabbits.

Mo Lan lightened her steps, treading on moss and bare earth as she advanced, carefully observing the ground and surrounding vegetation.

Before long, she spotted several narrow paths hidden beneath the grass, worn slightly smooth from repeated trampling, along with some fresh, pellet-shaped droppings.

She crouched down to examine them closely and confirmed they were grey-furred rabbit tracks.

“This is the spot.” Mo Lan selected a location where paths converged, with several clumps of tender grass that grey-furred rabbits favored nearby, and began setting her trap.

She chose a relatively simple snare trap, using a springy small bush as the mechanism. Her movements were steady and assured—digging the pit, arranging the trigger, tying the vine snare with a slip knot, and finally scattering nearby leaf litter and loose soil as camouflage, making the trap blend seamlessly with the surrounding environment.

After setting the first trap, she cautiously explored further ahead and set a second trap of a different type—a pressure plate trap—along another animal trail. Not far from that, she rigged a “drop net trap” using a net pouch and slip knot.

She then carefully erased the traces she’d left behind, climbed a nearby low tree with a relatively good vantage point, and concealed herself among the branches and leaves. Holding her breath and focusing intently, she gripped the small hand bow in her hand, a sharp hunting arrow already nocked on the string.

Time passed bit by bit. The only sounds in the low forest were the rustling of wind through leaves and the occasional birdsong.

Mo Lan’s heartbeat gradually settled, her breathing grew long and even, yet her mind remained sharply focused, sensing every slight movement around her.