thefictionvixens Chapter 44 Taking them down one by one
Chapter 44 Taking them down one by one
The guide was fifteen meters ahead of the other two, stepping into the eastern entrance of the gully first. His boots rolled over the needlegrass that was half a person tall, and the grass blades rubbed against his trouser legs, making a rustling sound. The dampness mixed with the soil rose up, and the green and yellow grass stems instantly covered his waist and abdomen, only revealing the silhouette of his upper body.
The middle-loaded man followed thirty meters behind, his heavy backpack pressing down on his shoulders so that he leaned forward slightly. Each step he took made a dull thud, and the grass blades were pushed to the sides by his knees.
The alert man stood still, his shoulder blades pushing against the fabric as he turned his neck. His gaze swept across the grassland behind him like a blade. He quickly pointed forward three times with his right index and middle fingers together, a gesture that Chen Fei could not decipher.
Just then.
The coolness of the rock lingered in his palms. Chen Fei rose silently, like a snake shedding its skin in spring. A surge of heat coursed through his veins, spreading from his bones to his fingertips, every muscle taut like a fully drawn bowstring. He sidestepped, landing precisely to the left rear of the alert human.
Distance: 40 meters.
As the alert man turned his head back, before his neck had even completed half a rotation, Chen Fei had already bent his knees and lowered his body, his chest pressed against the warm sand, revealing only half of his shoulder blade and a section of the dark lines on his back, which looked like a moving piece of scorched stone in the dappled sunlight.
But it was half a second too late.
What did that human see?
You definitely didn't see it clearly.
At a distance of forty meters, the tall grass swayed slightly in the wind. When Chen Fei pressed down to knee height, his silhouette against the grassy background was just a rapidly moving dark mass.
But it moved.
Anything that shouldn't be moved on the grassland is enough to trigger a warning.
The man let out a short shout, his voice like a taut string, and suddenly raised his right hand, palm facing forward—a signal to stop.
The three people stopped at the same time and quickly gathered in the middle, their movements so synchronized that it was as if they were being drawn together by an invisible thread.
Chen Fei lay prone in the grass, his ear pressed to the ground, listening to the sound of the wind in the distance, and waited for a full three minutes.
They started moving again.
After gathering and walking about twenty meters, the guide took the lead and went into the gully. The low grass and the steep side walls of the gully blocked the view of the other two.
At this moment, there is one person inside the ditch and one person outside the ditch.
The vigilant man stood at the edge of the entrance, glancing back at the grassland behind him. The wind whistled through the grass, brushing past the edges of his boots, but nothing seemed amiss.
He bent down and followed, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the ditch wall.
All three people entered the gully.
Chen Fei suddenly stood up, his feet landing silently on the sand, and quickly walked to the entrance of the gully and stopped.
Low, indistinct voices drifted from the gully, mingled with the sound of footsteps advancing. The rustling of grass and the snapping of dry branches echoed through the narrow valley.
Chen Fei did not follow up.
He turned and circled around to the exit of the gully, stopping ten meters in front of the exit in an open sandy area. When he raised his forepaw, he kicked up fine sand particles and slammed them heavily on the ground, once, twice, three times. His claws dug deep into the soft soil, leaving three distinct knuckle marks, each two fingers deep, with grass clippings still clinging to the edges.
After doing all this, he retreated the way he came, crawled into the tall grass on the side of the gully, lay down again, the rise and fall of his chest gradually calmed down, and the heat flowed slowly through his limbs.
As the guide emerged from the gully, his gaze suddenly fixed on the sandy ground.
His knees slammed heavily on the sand, his rough palms pressed against the edges of the claw marks for comparison, his fingertips tracing the scratches in the soil. His brows furrowed, and he turned and shouted something into the ditch, his voice low but urgent.
The man in the middle, carrying heavy loads, jogged over. The backpack straps slipped half an inch off his shoulders. His knees made a slight sound as he squatted down, then he suddenly stood up, his voice rising slightly, his tone full of seriousness.
The alert man didn't crouch; he instantly raised his gun, the muzzle rapidly scanning his surroundings with his gaze. His index finger pressed against the trigger guard, his knuckles turning white from the force—a defensive stance, half a second before he was ready to fire.
Half a second can be enough to decide life or death on the grassland.
Chen Fei lay motionless among the grass, his eyelids lowered, his super vision like a precise lens, locking onto every detail of the three: the guide's fingers repeatedly rubbing the claw marks, the heavy hand pressing on the backpack zipper, and the wrist holding the gun in a vigilant grip trembling slightly, yet always keeping the muzzle steady.
The three people stood around the paw print for a moment, then began to disperse.
The guide followed the direction of the paw prints, his footsteps veering northeast;
He left the heavy load behind, quickly unzipped his backpack, and rummaged through it with a whoosh.
The alert type circled around in the opposite direction of Chen Fei's ambush position, their footsteps rustling through the grass, their guns always pointed at the tall grass area to the west.
Chen Fei waited for fifteen seconds, his ears picking up the footsteps of the three men, confirming that the distance between them was more than thirty meters. The time to hunt had come.
He suddenly stood up, and a surge of heat instantly erupted from his limbs.
Objective: To guide.
The guide followed the paw prints for about twenty steps, and the marks on the sand suddenly disappeared in front of a clump of dense grass.
He squatted down, parted the grass roots with both hands, and dug his fingertips into the damp soil, carefully searching for the next mark. His breathing was slightly rapid, and a small dark patch of sweat soaked through the fabric on his back.
Chen Fei approached silently from his left rear, his footsteps blending into the rustling sound of the grass blades he had created, perfectly masking his movements. A surge of heat flowed from his limbs to his fingertips, his claws almost piercing his skin.
The guide's gun was slung over his right hand, muzzle pointing down against the ground. His crouching position severely limited his gun-holding angle. If he were to raise the gun and aim at this moment, he would have to first stand up straight and then rotate at least ninety degrees, which would take a full second.
Chen Fei was already two meters to his left.
The right claw, carrying a surge of heat, slashed down, its fingertips almost embedding themselves into the flesh of the opponent's neck and shoulder. The blunt force of the blow was like a heavy hammer striking bone, neither severing the carotid artery nor shattering the opponent's balance.
With a muffled thud, the gun fell into the grass, making a dull sound as it collided with a dry branch.
No shots were fired.
Without hesitation, Chen Fei turned around and ran westward. He knew that the sound of the collision could be heard a hundred meters away on the silent grassland.
The alert gun heard it, and suddenly turned its head to the northeast. As the gun was raised, the metal parts made a slight clicking sound. This time, its index finger was on the inside of the trigger guard, ready to fire at any moment.
He called out, but his voice carried away in the wind and received no response.
He took three steps forward, then suddenly stopped, his gun barrel sweeping rapidly around him, his eyes sharp as a hawk's, trying to find the source of the disturbance.
Chen Fei hid in the tall grass eleven meters to his right. Even in broad daylight, his evolved visual system could accurately detect the opponent's shift in center of gravity. With his left foot forward and right foot back, his center of gravity was shifted to the left, and his next foot would land thirty centimeters directly in front of him.
Just as the alert type took its fourth step.
Chen Fei burst out from the side, not charging head-on. He unleashed a burst of heat from his limbs, pushing his speed to its limit within the five-meter distance. The grass blades were tossed backward by the airflow he created.
A short, muffled groan escaped from the throat of the alert person; it wasn't a shout, but the sound of air being squeezed out of the chest cavity when hit by a heavy object.
"Bang,"
Gunshots rang out across the grassland, sharp as if tearing through silk.
The bullet grazed Chen Fei's ear, carrying a scorching gust of air, before disappearing into the distant clouds, utterly meaningless.
Chen Fei straightened up, turned his ears toward the direction where Sair was, listened carefully for a moment, and when he did not hear any large-scale movement, he turned back to the northeast and focused on the last target.
The man carrying the heavy load had already heard the gunshots. He threw his backpack on the ground, the zipper still open, swung the gun off his back, gripped it tightly with both hands, and ran quickly toward the direction of the gunshots.
After running a dozen or so steps, he suddenly stopped.
Something was moving in the grass ahead; the blades of grass were shaking violently and making a soft rustling sound.
He immediately raised his gun, pointing it in that direction, his arm trembling slightly, his knuckles turning white.
Its round head poked out from the grass.
It's the big head.
Grass seeds still clung to its ears, and a thick, black scab covered the old wound on its left shoulder, gleaming a dark brown in the morning light. Its nostrils twitched as it sniffed the gunpowder-scented air. When its amber eyes met the dark muzzle of a gun, it visibly froze, its pupils shrinking to tiny dots.
Then, it bared its teeth.
A low growl rolled out from his throat, the sound still carrying the innocence of a cub, yet revealing a serious ferocity.
The heavy gun grip on his hand trembled violently, and he instinctively took a half-step back, his heel hitting the backpack hard on the ground, the strap getting tangled around his ankle.
His center of gravity shifted backward instantly, his upper body arched into a stiff arc, and the muzzle of his gun tilted towards the sky.
Right now.
Chen Fei burst out from the right side of the heavy load, his limbs surging with heat, his claws kicking up fine dust from the sand.
The other party didn't have time to remove the gun from Big Head's body, nor did they have time to regain their balance.
Chen Fei's right claw slammed down, the force carrying a surge of heat as it struck the opponent's shoulder blade.
A small cloud of dust rose from the sand, accompanied by the dull thud of bones colliding.
The gun did not fire.
Big Head stood still, his tail held straight up, still baring his teeth, facing a grassland that had suddenly become quiet.
It first turned its head to look at Chen Fei, then looked down at the motionless human on the ground, then turned back to look at Chen Fei, letting out a short "woof" in its throat, with obvious confusion.
That roughly means, "Is that all?"
Chen Fei ignored it and strode towards his previous spot.
[Host: Chen Fei]
[Identity: Sub-adult male lion]
[Energy Points: 856↑]
He stopped beside a group of rocks on the west side of his landing spot, the coolness of the rocks seeping through his feet. Looking back to the northeast, at the three o'clock position, three humans lay motionless, one in the grass and the other in the sand.
Scavengers on the grasslands never waste an opportunity.
Within half a day, circling vultures would swoop down following the scent of blood, their wings cutting through the air with a deep whooshing sound; then came swarms of jackals, their sharp howls piercing the silent night sky; followed by swarms of ants and beetles, slowly cleaning up the remaining traces.
Approximately 48 hours later, the area will be completely cleaned up, leaving only sand flattened by the wind and scattered fabric fibers.
But the claw marks on the sand will not disappear easily.
And those two guns lying in the grass, their safety catches intact, with unfired bullets still in the chambers, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen in the sunlight.