The sky was very clear.
Unlike the world outside, within the Little World of Hunting Ground One, the sun had just risen, peeping out from behind a few white clouds, shrouded in a faint glow. The sunlight fell on the earth through those clouds, like the coy glances of the sun, glinting and flashing.
A breeze swept by, stirring up a swath of dry grass.
It rustled the leaves, trying to escape this slightly oppressive space. But the power that lifted it came from the breeze. Once the wind passed, the leaves inevitably fell back to the ground, to be trampled underfoot by a deer.
This was a mature deer.
Its rust-colored fur and black and white belly stripes hidden well within the grass. Its two-meter height and pointed antlers could fend off most predators, allowing it to feed comfortably in this open grassland.
At this moment, it was bending down, patiently nibbling on a patch of alfalfa—the freshest legumes were the most delectable delicacies on the grassland, bar none.
