"Nice shot! Great Archery Skill," Zhao Pu praised.
Qin Ziwen replied humbly, "I've practiced before, but only on stationary targets. It's nothing special."
He wasn't lying. In college, one of his roommate's family had opened an archery range near campus.
He and his friends used to help out there part-time, and they could practice for free after their shifts or whenever there were no customers.
"What's the draw weight on your Compound Bow?" Zhao Pu asked.
"Fifty pounds." Qin Ziwen walked to the base of the tree where the Black Falcon lay on a bed of dead leaves, its legs twitching.
The Arrow had pierced its body, the broadhead tearing a large gash in its abdomen. It was bleeding profusely and clearly wasn't going to survive.
He picked up the Black Falcon from the ground. It was large, nearly the size of a Beaked Eagle, but its talons and beak were shorter.
With one of their own dead, the remaining Black Falcons didn't dare to get closer.
