That's right, it was a huge tiger. Its massive size was even greater than the one he had fought with Wu Dong and the others last time.
Of course, saying it "blotted out the sun" might be a bit of an exaggeration, but from Wang An's perspective, because the tiger had leaped into the air, all he could see was the tiger's blood-red maw, the white fur on its belly, and those four enormous paws.
And with the sunlight hitting it just right, it truly did feel as if it were blotting out the sun.
Regardless of whether it was an exaggeration or not, Wang An suddenly felt his body stiffen, his limbs grow cold, and his crotch tighten. His brain seemed to have fucking stopped thinking; all he knew was to keep pulling the trigger repeatedly at the dark shadow.
Despite Wang An's good marksmanship, the tiger's speed was simply too fast. Wang An didn't even dare blink, yet the tiger had already reached a distance of only ten-odd meters from him.
Hunting is essentially a game of "lead"—predicting where the prey will be so that it coincides exactly with the bullet fired.
When hunting other animals, the lead is easy to find, but when hunting a tiger, finding the lead is incredibly difficult.
Therefore, all the shots Wang An fired were based purely on instinct. In such a state of tension, he had absolutely no idea whether he had actually hit the tiger.
Just as Wang An fired the last bullet from his SKS, and the gun emitted several "clack, clack" sounds without any bullets flying out, Wang An knew that he was completely fucked today.
He would soon be torn to shreds by the tiger, eaten, and finally turned into tiger shit, excreted from the tiger's massive anus...
This flash of imagination made Wang An realize that he absolutely could not just sit and wait for death. Above all, he couldn't end up as tiger shit!
Strangely enough, the moment Wang An realized he was doomed, that deep-seated feeling of fear and horror suddenly vanished. His mind became exceptionally clear and calm, and the other abnormalities in his body disappeared.
Perhaps this was the so-called "finding life in the face of death."
Consequently, Wang An took the empty SKS in his hand and threw it recklessly straight at the tiger.
As for unfolding the bayonet and trying to fight the tiger with a blade, such a thing didn't even enter Wang An's range of thought.
He didn't have the slightest bit of confidence in knife-hunting a two-to-three-hundred-pound wild boar, let alone dealing with a tiger weighing over five hundred pounds.
So, after throwing the gun, Wang An didn't even glance in the tiger's direction. He turned and dove into a gap beside a large cluster of shrubs, intending to use the dense foliage to provide some obstacle to the tiger's pursuit.
At the same time, Wang An reached his right hand into his pocket to feel for the Type 54 pistol that never left his side.
Wang An believed that as long as he could pull out the Type 54, with his skills and marksmanship, he could definitely kill this tiger.
The tiger might be formidable and unrivaled in these mountains, but Wang An absolutely did not believe it could withstand bullets.
At this moment, Wang An possessed a mysterious confidence.
The reason he was so confident was that after this brief exchange, he had already figured out the lead required to shoot the tiger.
However, there was one prerequisite: he had to be given the chance to pull out the gun and fire.
Unfortunately, while the ideal was plump, reality was skeletal. Just as Wang An dove into the shrubs, he felt a sudden gust of violent wind blow toward him.
Immediately after, Wang An felt a heavy blow land squarely on his back.
It felt as if a high-speed car had suddenly slammed into his back.
Clearly, the tiger had caught up and given him a swipe.
When Wang An turned to run, there had clearly been a distance of over ten meters between him and the tiger, yet after only two steps, the tiger had already arrived and managed to slap him.
What the fuck, what kind of fucking speed is this??
With no time to think, Wang An felt a sweetness in his throat and sprayed a mouthful of blood forward. His body, propelled by the force of the blow, was shot directly into the shrubs.
Yes, "shot" was the right word; it was that fast. It was so fast that before Wang An could even react, he had been launched into the dense branches of the shrubs.
Furthermore, Wang An clearly felt himself slide for several meters within the brush.
Come to think of it, it was fortunate that those springy shrub branches acted as a buffer; otherwise, Wang An would have undoubtedly suffered another hard impact.
Even so, Wang An knew he was injured—and it was the kind of internal injury that, in this era, was the hardest to diagnose.
At this moment, Wang An not only found it difficult to breathe and felt a tightness in his chest, but his entire stomach felt as if it were being overturned; it was an incredibly wretched feeling.
If nothing went wrong, his internal organs must have been knocked out of place by that single swipe from the tiger.
He had to admit that the tiger's strength was simply too terrifying. A casual slap like that was more than Wang An's 180-pound frame could handle.
To be honest, if Wang An weren't young, strong, and physically fit, and if he didn't practice martial arts every day, he might have been sent straight to the side of the Buddha by that one blow.
Unable to stop himself, he spat out two more mouthfuls of blood. Enduring the physical discomfort, Wang An finally managed to pull out the Type 54. After pulling it out, he rubbed it against his trousers to chamber a round.
But just then, Wang An felt another gust of violent wind from behind, and the distinct fishy stench of a carnivore drifted into his nostrils with the wind.
Wang An knew the tiger was about to pounce again. To the tiger, these shrubs seemed to be completely ignored.
Wang An took a deep breath and forced his left shoulder to twist, trying to shift from a prone position to lying on his back, or at the very least, on his side.
Only then could the life-saving artifact in his hand—the Type 54—be put to use.
But as he twisted, the heart-wrenching pain in his back, chest, and internal organs made Wang An let out an involuntary scream.
Following a long, loud "Ah!", there was a rapid succession of "Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!" from the Type 54.
Until the firing pin of the Type 54 emitted a series of "click, click, click" sounds, Wang An's right index finger continued to mechanically pull the trigger.
After pulling it several more times, Wang An finally lowered his hand powerlessly.
After a long while—mostly because he needed a good deal of time to recover—Wang An struggled to lift his head and looked at the huge tiger that was now right in front of him.