Though she always played the tough-talking but submissive "small fry" in front of Chuck, often fucked until she screamed for mercy, Valentina remained Valentina—the one who never admitted defeat.
Her unyielding nature wouldn't change.
So after the plan was set, Valentina couldn't wait to redeem herself, working with extra vigor.
As the rain stopped and the sky cleared, everyone got busy. The "Muscle Team"—Valentina and Kaede—followed Chuck through the stone beach and redwood forest to the tropical jungle outskirts to fell trees for the raft.
Since it was for nearshore navigation, the raft didn't need to be overly sturdy or use redwood. They cut ordinary timber in the jungle, transported it to the shallows behind the cave, and used the workbench to lash and stack it with rope...
By evening, Chuck had crafted a simple raft big enough for two. Pushing it into the shallow sea behind the cave, they boarded, tested its buoyancy and stability, and paddled along the cliffs toward the east, one on each side.
This was Chuck's first time "setting sail." Despite the calm post-rain sea, he was slightly nervous.
Fortunately, the nearshore rowing went smoothly. In about half an hour, they reached the southwest bay. dragging the heavy raft ashore, they sat side by side on the beach under the setting sun, sighing in relief.
"Chuck, will killing the tiger cure that woman's illness?"
Valentina took a piece of cloth from her pocket, wiping sweat from her snowy collarbone, and asked suddenly.
Chuck paused, then smiled helplessly.
"Yes. I'm very confident."
He had only told the women he would cure Jiang Qi, keeping the tiger hunt a secret to avoid worry. Only Valentina, his partner, knew. But his preparations made the connection obvious.
So it was natural for her to guess.
"Don't get it."
Killing a tiger and curing an illness seemed unrelated. Valentina couldn't figure out the link, but being pragmatic, she shrugged it off. Looking at the setting sun, she murmured.
"A man who values relationships like you is worth loving, but shouldering everyone's safety... that pressure will crush you one day."
Her tone was calm, stating a high-probability fact rather than worrying.
With Jiang Qi's arrival, she realized survivors drifted here periodically. Strangely, besides Chuck, all were women.
Counting herself, Chuck now had eight women.
If this continued, there would be more. Eventually, someone he couldn't save would appear, forcing a choice.
Unless he let go of this obsession and accepted his limits, Chuck might break under the backlash.
Valentina knew what it felt like when a long-held belief shattered.
"We'll talk about it when that day comes."
Chuck smiled, patting the earnest silver-haired woman's shoulder.
"Then you can say, 'I told you so.'"
"I wouldn't..."
Valentina glared at him, turning her head to look across the beach, her emerald eyes trembling slightly.
Chuck's burden grew heavier. Currently, she was the only one who could share it.
Strong, domineering, gentle, responsible, yet reckless and stubborn like most men.
How could she leave such a Chuck alone?
...
Night fell, moon bright.
Having rested for two days, Chuck planned to pull an all-nighter. Valentina stayed with him.
With the raft tested, the three-step "Hit and Run" plan was complete. Only pre-battle prep remained: practice aiming the ballista until confident, then hunt the tiger dominating the lake plains!
Without coconut shells visible at night, Chuck planted fiber-wrapped branches on the beach and lit them as targets.
Sprinting back to the ballista, he saw Valentina squatting behind it, holding the monocular with one hand, staring ahead. He chuckled.
"Tina, reminder: that's a monocular."
"Shh—"
Annoyed by the interruption, Valentina pressed a snowy finger to her lips, whispering without looking away.
"Reminder: sniper scopes are monocular too. Back when I trained recruits, rookies who closed one eye got no mercy from me."
Fine, a veteran.
Chuck pursed his lips, speechless.
He set the target nearly 400 meters away—the ballista's limit.
Training for combat meant practicing at optimal range. Further distance meant better stealth.
He focused on the distant fire.
Shooting guns and ballistae differed greatly, but aiming relied heavily on "feel"—talent.
Whether guns, javelins, or ballistae, "aim" was universal.
Valentina had a unique gift.
Adjusting elevation with wood chips and traversing by rotating the frame, she found her angle, held the bed, and fired.
Whoosh!
The improved bolt sliced through the night air, a swift black shadow streaking toward the distance.
"Did it hit?!"
Without Chuck's perception, she lost the bolt in the dark, asking anxiously.
"Mmh... missed by a bit. No, missed by a lot."
Chuck squinted at the black stick planted obliquely in the sand, still quite far from the dimming fire.
Her shot was further than his first attempt, but still short.
"I'll go check."
"Here. Retrieve the bolt and replace the torch."
Chuck handed her a fresh torch, took the monocular, loaded a new bolt, and began cranking.
His turn.
Rotating saved retrieval time and boosted efficiency.
Two minutes later, the silver-haired woman returned with the bolt, looking frustrated.
Her calculated shot deviated by thirty meters.
It fell short of her standards, but to Chuck, such talent was terrifying.
While she was gone, Chuck adjusted based on her shot. With a meaningful smile, he fired right in front of her.
Five seconds later, the distant fire flickered.
"Hey!"
Valentina protested immediately.
"That's not fair!"
Chuck's shot missed the torch but landed within centimeters. Against a tiger, that was a hit.
Like golf, Valentina's first shot found the range; Chuck just fine-tuned. He definitely cheated.
"Relax. Just practice, not the real contest."
Chuck waved his hand, not hiding his smugness, making Valentina gnash her teeth.
"Just you wait! I'm moving the target. You shoot first this time!"
She shook her snowy fist and ran toward the 400m mark.
Chuck raised an eyebrow and reloaded.
Practice tonight wouldn't be boring.
...
In a real ambush, the tiger wouldn't wait like a torch.
No chance to "adjust." First shot must hit.
Constantly changing target position, angle, and height was necessary.
Over the night, they moved dozens of times. The running distance probably equaled a marathon.
But in this competitive atmosphere, neither felt tired.
Accuracy improved. Late in the session, they achieved amazing streaks of two or three hits.
Deciding the shooter wasn't simple anymore...
Next day, 10 AM.
After sleeping till dawn and eating a full meal, Chuck and Valentina returned to the beach for final prep.
"Rules are simple. Five bolts. One shoots, one picks the target. Within 50cm is one point; hitting the board is two. High score wins."
Chuck held a wooden board, crafted to be over a meter high—roughly a prone tiger's head height. Hitting it meant a headshot, likely fatal, hence extra points.
"Reasonable."
Valentina nodded, eyes burning with battle spirit.
She loaded a bolt, looked at Chuck provocatively, and repeated her classic line.
"I will win this time!"
"Yes, yes, yes."
The familiar words and deja vu made Chuck laugh. He nodded and ran to the distance.
She was competitive but loved setting flags.
Winning meant doing whatever she wanted to Chuck for an hour. A dream opportunity.
She had let go of past humiliations but hadn't forgotten. She really wanted to see this powerful, domineering man's expression when pinned helplessly beneath her.
Just thinking about it made her crotch tingle.
Licking her lips, she looked 400 meters away. Chuck set up the board.
Seeing the location, Valentina froze.
It was near a cave cliff, far from the shoreline.