At the same time, Wang Guan and Yu Feibai, hearing this nearby, showed expressions of interest on their faces.

"Interested, are you?"

At this moment, Murong Guang was overcome with mixed surprise and joy. "Uncle Batu, you're actually willing to sell that bow to me?"

"It’s not my bow."

However, Uncle Batu shook his head. "It belongs to a friend of mine. He has a fine bow, but with his child recently admitted to university, he urgently needs some money, so he wants to sell it. His bow is also excellent. If Boss Murong is interested, I can take you to see it."

"Is that so..." Murong Guang hesitated slightly, clearly tempted, yet concerned about leaving while entertaining Wang Guan and Yu Feibai.

Seeing this, Yu Feibai immediately smiled. "Is it far? We’d like to see it too."

"Not far, just nearby," Uncle Batu chuckled. Seeing Murong Guang nod his silent consent, he quickly said goodbye to his family, mounted a horse, and took the lead.

Soon after, Uncle Batu led the trio to another herdsman's dwelling. He called out loudly twice, and an elderly man dressed in simple, traditional clothing emerged.

Uncle Batu then introduced the two parties, and they learned that the other man was named Bagen. It was clarified, however, that Uncle Batu and Uncle Bagen were not blood brothers.

Later, Murong Guang explained that Batu meant 'firm' or 'solid' in Mongolian, while Bagen meant 'pillar'; though the meanings seemed similar, there were nuances. In any case, it was merely a form of address, no need to dig deeper.

After a few pleasantries, Murong Guang cut to the chase. "Uncle Bagen, I hear you have an ox-horn bow?"

"Indeed," Uncle Bagen nodded, then waved his hand. "Please, come inside to talk..."

He ushered them into his home and brought out some drinks and food to serve his guests. Only then did Uncle Bagen step away briefly. He soon returned, holding a longbow.

The group examined it. The longbow clearly had some age to it. It possessed an overall air of ancient simplicity, even showing slight signs of wear. Yet, it was evident that Uncle Bagen cherished this bow; constant maintenance had given the body a subtle, floating sheen. Especially the middle section, which bore a layer of warm patina.

Seeing this, Wang Guan was certain the longbow was frequently used. As for its quality, he couldn't say much definitively, but considering there would certainly be a test shot soon, the quality was likely decent—otherwise, Uncle Batu wouldn't have specifically recommended it to Murong Guang.

"Boss Murong, please take a look."

Uncle Bagen reluctantly handed the ox-horn bow to Murong Guang, sighing softly. "I won't cheat you. This was passed down from my grandfather, it's seventy or eighty years old now. So, even if you buy it, it might only last another twenty or thirty years before it needs replacing."

The ox-horn bow represents the pinnacle of ancient Chinese archery equipment, and even now, it is comparable to bows made from modern materials.

It is worth noting that the ox-horn bow is a composite bow, constructed from layers of ox horn, a bamboo-wood core, sinew, and animal glue, processed through hundreds of intricate steps—it's not simply carved into a bow shape from a single piece of horn as some might imagine.

The basic construction involves using tough bamboo and wood to form the bow core, onto the back of which the horn plates are affixed. Each horn piece is about two to three inches long, glued layer upon layer onto the back of the bow using a specialized adhesive. Subsequently, sinew must be carefully glued over the laminated horn sections...

In short, it is an incredibly tedious process demanding high technical skill. If the horn pieces are not bonded securely, the bow could crack upon drawing, potentially injuring the user. Despite the high technical difficulty and long production cycle, these ox-horn bows cannot be preserved indefinitely; at best, they might last a century or so.

Since Uncle Bagen said this bow had already seen seventy or eighty years of use, even if it lasted ten or eight more years, the structure would likely begin exhibiting various issues, let alone the two or three decades he mentioned.

Murong Guang, however, didn't mind this at all. Instead, he laughed heartily. "That's fine. If the bow is good, I'll buy it. I figured out that if it lasted much longer, Uncle Bagen probably wouldn't have been willing to part with this old treasure yet."

"Heh heh," Uncle Bagen smiled genuinely, nodding silently in acknowledgement. However, his candor and honesty about the bow's age suggested his character was vastly superior to some people.

"Enough talk. Let's go outside and test it first."

Murong Guang waved his hand. "After the test, we can discuss the rest."

"Alright." Uncle Bagen was equally straightforward. He retrieved several long arrows and led them outside to a wide-open space where several haystacks stood nearby—perfect for archery practice.

Murong Guang stood sideways, holding the grip with his left hand and slowly drawing the string back with his right. He tested the tension slightly, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He then nocked an arrow, aimed, and released the string instantly.

Whoosh!

The moment the string vibrated, the long arrow sliced through the air, burying itself directly into the haystack thirty-odd paces away.

"Not bad," Uncle Batu narrowed his eyes, watching clearly. He nodded and smiled. "But you released too quickly; the arrowhead tilted slightly, veering off course."

"Heh heh, just need more practice," Murong Guang offered an awkward smile, immediately handing the longbow to Yu Feibai standing nearby. He then turned to the host. "Uncle Bagen, shall we go inside to talk prices?"

Uncle Bagen was simple and honest, not foolish, and naturally understood Murong Guang’s intention. He happily agreed and they headed indoors to negotiate the purchase price. Yu Feibai, meanwhile, was eager to try the bow himself.

"Can you handle it? Don't hurt your hand," Wang Guan said with concern.

This wasn't a modern compound bow where you just pull a trigger to fire. The string on an ox-horn bow was incredibly tight; carelessly handling it could easily cut one's fingers. This was no joke—otherwise, why would the ancients have invented the banzhi (thumb ring)? The original function of the thumb ring was precisely to serve as a protective finger sheath, a dedicated archery tool.

"Don't worry, I have experience!" Yu Feibai laughed. Indeed, he drew and nocked the arrow with relative skill, and his final shot was executed smoothly and completely. However, his accuracy seemed to be slightly off.

Wang Guan fought hard to suppress his laughter as he watched the arrow sail directly over the haystack. But Uncle Batu had no such reservations; he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"I was just testing my feel for it," Yu Feibai's face flushed, but he stubbornly insisted, "Getting the rhythm, you understand? Watch this—my next shot will hit the target dead center."

A moment later, Yu Feibai loosed his next arrow, and it did indeed hit a target. But at this point, Wang Guan could no longer hold back and burst out laughing. Because his arrow had perfectly struck the other haystack right next to the first one.

"What are you laughing at? If you think it's so easy, you try."

Yu Feibai's face stopped flushing; he thrust the bow and arrow into Wang Guan's hands, crossing his arms. "Give it a try, and you'll understand how difficult it is."

"This young man speaks the truth," Uncle Batu agreed. "Archery looks easy, but it actually requires a certain skill set. Drawing the bow and shooting is simple, but hitting the target demands diligent practice..."

"Is it really that hard?" Wang Guan picked up the ox-horn bow, curiosity piqued. He didn't rush to shoot, merely touching the string lightly. He immediately felt how taut the filaments were. This was an ancient string. Wang Guan humbly asked Uncle Batu, learning it was made from processed cowhide and sinew, making it both incredibly tough and resistant to snapping.

Of course, the most important aspect, according to Uncle Batu, was the superior feel—unlike modern steel wires which were too rigid and offered no sensation upon drawing. The cowhide string, by contrast, was described as 'soft yet hard, yielding yet strong, achieving a harmony of both qualities...'

"Stop dawdling,"

Meanwhile, Yu Feibai, intending to watch a spectacle, kept urging him on. "Hurry up and shoot an arrow."

"Got it."

Wang Guan nodded, positioned himself correctly by drawing the string and nocking the arrow, aiming at the haystack directly ahead. He slowly applied force, the string and bow gradually forming a perfect full moon shape.

"Eh!"

Uncle Batu's eyes widened with surprise at this sight. Having ox-horn bows at his own home, he knew exactly how much strength was required to draw one into a full moon. He hadn't expected Wang Guan to be capable of it.

Whoosh!

In that instant, Wang Guan released his grip. The long arrow shot out like a meteor, its flight remarkably straight, slicing through the air before slamming deep into the haystack. Then, to the astonishment of everyone watching, the long arrow easily passed completely through the pile of hay, continuing its trajectory for another seven or eight meters before finally falling to the ground.

As for accuracy, there was a slight deviation of perhaps two points, but it wasn't wildly off. The most significant factor was the arrow's sheer power—it had penetrated the entire stack of hay. Even though dry grass is loose, the stack had considerable density; not just any arrow could pierce it.

Uncle Batu suspected that if this shot had been aimed at a person instead of hay, it might well have pierced the chest clean through.

"Did I just see that right?" At this moment, Murong Guang stepped out, his gaze filled with awe. "Did that arrow really pass through the haystack, or did it just skim over the top?"

Yu Feibai finally snapped out of his daze and declared decisively, "Luck. It was definitely luck."

"It wasn't luck,"

Uncle Batu contradicted him, shaking his head. "This young man pulled the string all the way back, and his hand was steady. The arrow flew perfectly straight; piercing the haystack is not surprising."

"Pulling the string fully... such immense strength." Murong Guang paused, then suddenly said, "Brother Wang, you should be free tomorrow, right? Would you accompany me hunting?"

"Hunting?" Wang Guan looked bewildered. "Hunt what?"

"Just going into the mountains to hunt, but we must use only ancient bows and arrows," Murong Guang said enthusiastically. "With your strength, Brother Wang, as long as your aim isn't terrible, you stand a great chance of winning the title of Hunting King."

"Hunting King—that sounds quite imposing," Yu Feibai became interested. "Brother-in-law, what exactly is that about? Tell us the details."

"...We'll talk more when we get back,"

Murong Guang smiled, then turned to bid farewell to Uncle Batu and Uncle Bagen.