Chapter 95

New Zealand's expansive hills and grasslands stretched out before Martin as he galloped through them, effortlessly nocking an arrow and shooting at rabbits and massive field mice startled by the thunderous sound of hooves.

In the realm of gods and demons, succubi and elves were both known for their archery skills. With their keen senses, spatial awareness, and precise bodily control, archery was second nature to them. However, unlike elves, succubi weren't concerned with the environment. While elves might interact with nearby animals, succubi saw them only as food. Some, the more aesthetically pleasing ones, could serve as pets, but the ordinary animals? They were merely unfortunate when a succubus came across them.

Within minutes, Martin had felled seven rabbits and twelve enormous voles. The size of the voles in New Zealand was staggering—so large, in fact, that rabbits seemed tiny in comparison.

(Author's note: This is not a fabrication. The rat problem in New Zealand has become disastrous. In Auckland, the rats are larger than cats. With their food supply in the forests and hills running out, these rats have begun migrating to cities. In the Titirangi area, they are so bold that they even disregard cats and are found in shops, cafes, parking lots, and near Rangiwai Rd. They ravage grain depots and hunt chickens and ducks, becoming a major headache for the government, which has set a goal of eliminating all rats by 2050.)

[TL/N: what the author said is true]

Interestingly, the meat of these giant rats was tender and packed with muscle protein, making it quite tasty. Martin had already hunted a few, barbecuing them himself, and even Gordon had praised the meal.

Just as Martin was about to chase down another group of voles through a hill, he suddenly stopped, his ears catching the faint sound of someone calling for help. Intrigued, he spurred his horse up the hill to investigate.

His sharp eyes quickly spotted two humans up in a tree, while two cheetahs prowled beneath. One of the cheetahs seemed to notice his presence, baring its teeth in a menacing grin.

"Interesting," Martin murmured to himself. "Hunting leopards is far more exciting than hunting voles."

The cheetah, fifty meters away, seemed to sense the danger and gave a rapid, menacing growl.

"Be careful, those two leopards are fast and can climb trees!" the person in the tree shouted.

Martin was momentarily stunned. Isn't that obvious?

But undeterred, he spurred his horse into motion, galloping down the hill.

"Be careful, they're fierce!" the voice shouted again.

Peter Jackson, watching from the tree, couldn't help but imagine the rider on the horse as a handsome figure—perhaps with light blond to silver hair, pointed ears, and an ethereal grace, an elf prince in the flesh, galloping across the hills, bow drawn and arrow flying...

The scriptwriter's imagination was already at full speed. If only he could see his face more clearly!

"Careful!" Richard Taylor's urgent shout snapped him back to reality.

Peter turned just in time to see the two cheetahs—one to the left and one to the right—moving to flank the rider and his horse. They darted towards the white steed, ready to pounce.

"Ouch!" Peter yelped instinctively.

But the rider was swift. With a firm nudge of his feet, the horse leapt between the two cheetahs, narrowly avoiding their attacks, and galloped toward a steep hill.

The horse surged forward with remarkable speed, even as it charged up the steep incline, hooves pounding the ground with power. It leapt from a rock, and in that split second, Martin released the reins, his body shifting as he swiftly drew an arrow from his quiver.

The two cheetahs, gaining ground, were nearly within striking distance when the rider, mid-gallop, pulled his bowstring taut.

With a sharp twang, an arrow flew from Martin's bow, hitting one cheetah square in the mouth as it roared in mid-air.

"Aww~!" The cheetah's cry was cut short as the arrow pierced its skull, sending it tumbling lifelessly to the ground.

The second cheetah, enraged, closed in, but Martin merely laughed. He wasn't fazed. With a swift motion, he deftly twisted his body, avoiding the cheetah's attack, and hooked his bowstring around its neck. With a swift, hard pull, the string tightened, snapping the cheetah's vertebrae with a sickening crack.

The cheetah's limp body dangled from the bowstring.

Clean, swift, and deadly.

Peter and Richard, still perched in the tree, were speechless, staring in awe at the young man on horseback. The display had been so skillful, so precise, that they couldn't quite believe their eyes.

Martin approached on horseback, the cheetah's carcass still hanging from his bow like a trophy. His posture was proud, commanding, as if he had descended from the heavens.

"That's him! That's him!" Peter Jackson suddenly screamed, his voice filled with wonder.

Richard, startled, nearly lost his grip on the tree. "What's wrong with you, Peter?" he muttered under his breath, his heart racing from the shock.

Martin, upon hearing Peter's outburst, glanced at the disheveled man with wild hair and beard. "Is your friend alright?" he asked, puzzled.

Richard, still stunned, quickly apologized. "Sorry, he's just... a little shaken. Thank you for saving us."

Peter, now in full scriptwriter mode, couldn't contain his excitement. "Oh, I shouldn't have smashed the phone earlier! This moment should've been recorded! It was incredible—you are the Elf Prince! A born Elf Prince!"

Richard facepalmed. "Peter, please, you need to thank this gentleman first."

Peter snapped out of his reverie. "Right, right," he muttered, still dazed. He rubbed his messy hair and blushed. "Sorry, I just thought you looked too much like one of the characters from my script. My name's Peter Jackson, I'm a director. Thank you so much for saving me."

Martin laughed. "What a coincidence! I'm an actor."

[•———•——•———•]

𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧