The Evolutionary Path of the Lion

Chapter 87: A Bet

The sky had just been tinged with gray, the morning light had not yet penetrated the clouds, and the southern wilderness was still shrouded in darkness.

Thirty meters north of the southern uplift line, Chen Fei lay prone behind a protruding rock. The rough surface of the rock pressed against his forearm, and his ears darted left and right like radar, trying to catch any unusual movements in the wind.

It was an overwhelming, pungent stench, a pervasive sense of oppression that emanated from the movement of the entire group of creatures.

The dark gray horizon gradually turned into a cool gray-green, and the outlines of the distant grass blades became clearer little by little.

Then he saw it, and his heart sank.

It is a wriggling line.

Stretching endlessly from the eastern horizon to the west, its low silhouettes moved close to the ground with astonishingly uniform strides, with a few distinctly taller figures standing out in the middle, like sharp thorns piercing the line.

Chen Fei's Adam's apple bobbed as he silently counted in his mind: one, two, three... twenty-seven. His fingertips clenched unconsciously, and he had to stop when he reached twenty-seven, as more and more dark shadows were emerging behind him.

"Goodness."

An average African hyena pack consists of ten to eighty members, with fifty considered upper-middle class. But what lies before us now is not a loosely organized group, but a living wall.

He knew this day would come.

From the moment he first detected the unique fishy smell of the split mouth, he set up three checkpoints, repeatedly deduced the route of advance based on the terrain to the south, and even brought along the one-legged man for joint patrols, all to ensure he wouldn't panic at this moment.

Knowing is one thing, but when he saw the dark shadow looming over him, Chen Fei cursed under his breath and clenched his teeth.

Two minutes earlier, One-Legged Lion stood in the low grass seven meters north of the ridgeline, its right foreleg slightly turned outward, the scar from its severed limb gleaming pale in the darkness. Its weight was firmly on its left limbs, its paws sinking into the soft soil. The old lioness followed half a body length behind it to the left, her mane covered in grass clippings. The young lioness was close to its right, her relaxed, lactating belly contracting and expanding with each breath, the morning dew clinging to her fur swaying gently.

None of the three heads moved, like stone statues nailed to the ground, their gazes fixed on the south side.

Chen Fei got up from behind the rock, deliberately making his foot light as he stepped on the grass, and stopped to the left of his one leg.

The one-legged, yellowish-green eyes didn't turn around; only the tip of its left ear twitched slightly, catching the familiar scent on him, before it turned its gaze back to the south, its pupils shrinking into a vertical line.

Chen Fei followed its gaze.

The slit-mouthed troop had advanced to within two hundred meters of the ridgeline. Their pace wasn't fast, but it possessed an unstoppable momentum, showing no sign of slowing down. The figure at the front, towering over the others, walked in the middle, his stride nearly a third wider than his companions on either side. Each step landed with a steady, powerful force. A long, old scar ran diagonally across the right corner of his mouth, from his nose to his chin. The hair around the scar grew against the grain, curling in two directions in the morning light, making it appear as if a ferocious slit was forever etched at the corner of his mouth.

With its split mouth, shoulder height at least 15 centimeters taller than the group average, and a neck muscle group with a wider arc than that of ordinary hyenas, and mane always standing upright on its back, it is clear that it is constantly immersed in high adrenaline, has a much lower attack threshold than its peers, and is less adept at patiently waiting.

This is good news.

A leader who is not good at waiting will likely choose to push forward if their first attempt is rejected. A push forward makes things easier, as it allows them to follow the leader's rhythm.

Chen Fei quietly pulled his leg back an inch, bent his knee slightly, lowered his center of gravity, and pressed his feet firmly against the ground, clearly feeling the rough texture of the soil.

[Host: Chen Fei]

[Identity: Sub-adult male lion]

[Energy Points: 918↑]

The line of slit-mouthed slits suddenly stopped when it was eighty meters from the ridgeline.

The tall, muscular figure at the front suddenly stopped, and the hyenas behind him seemed to be pulled by invisible ropes, stopping one by one in the procession, finally forming a dark line that stretched across the dim morning light on the south side, the rustling sound of the grass being trampled by them gradually fading away.

There was a silence of about thirty seconds.

Then it opened its mouth.

That cry wasn't the shrill mockery of an ordinary hyena; it was a low, long whine, forcefully pushed out from deep within its throat, carrying a vibration as it slid along the grass roots. Chen Fei's feet were firmly planted in the soil, and he could clearly feel that faint resonance rising up his leg bones.

This is a blatant declaration.

Chen Fei understood, which roughly translates to: This is my place, get out.

A low growl rolled out from the one-legged creature's throat. It wasn't loud, but it was as heavy as a stone, causing the surrounding grass to sway gently.

The old lioness didn't make a sound, but took a half step forward with her front paws, her toenails digging into the soil and leaving a few shallow marks.

The young lioness's ears were pressed tightly against her scalp, her tail was tucked tightly between her legs, and her breathing rhythm was noticeably faster.

Chen Fei didn't move; he was waiting for the second move from the split-mouthed creature.

The attack logic of a hyena pack is ingrained in their genes: after the initial declaration, if the opponent shows no sign of retreat, they will inevitably send out two or three vanguard scouting to gauge the opponent's reaction limits. No matter how fierce their jaws are, they cannot change this fundamental instinct.

really.

As soon as the snarling voice faded, three hyenas broke off from the left flank, stepped over the raised line, their hooves crunching lightly on the grass stems, walked fifteen meters, paused, moved another ten meters, and stopped again. They walked and called out, their calls carrying a deliberate, probing rhythm, each call spaced exactly two seconds apart, as if waiting for an echo from ahead, or as if measuring the boundary of danger.

Chen Fei kept his scent camouflage glowing, pressing his aroma deep into the soil.

When the three-headed vanguard reached within twenty meters of him, their noses began to twitch wildly from side to side, their nostrils flared wide. Their pace slowed and slowed until they finally stopped completely. They couldn't smell any large feline scent, yet their eyes clearly saw four dark figures standing in front of them. This sharp contradiction caused them to rub their hooves in place, appearing hesitant and indecisive.

The three forwards rubbed their noses together, paced in circles, their hooves loosening the soil. One of them veered slightly to the left, trying to find a wider detour.

The one-legged tail slowly stood up, its tip trembling slightly, showing restlessness.

Chen Fei gently brushed its hind legs with its tail, the touch of the tail tip conveying a single word: wait.

The split-mouthed creature stared from behind for about forty seconds, its yellow-green eyes swirling with impatience.

Then it walked out on its own.

This large individual crossed the ridgeline alone, its stride astonishingly wide, each step landing with a dull thud, crushing the grass stems with a rustling sound. Reaching the three leading heads, it nudged the leftmost one with its shoulder and continued forward, its eyes showing no hesitation.

When it was forty meters away from Chen Fei, it suddenly stopped, its nostrils flared wide open and closed wildly, and a fishy smell wafted over on the wind.

Chen Fei looked at it quietly.

The camouflage made its scent even fainter than soil, so the snarling man couldn't smell anything. Yet, those murky eyes were fixed on him, not moving an inch. Hyenas usually rely more on their sense of smell than their sight, but at this moment, their sense of smell was completely impaired. In the snarling man's eyes, there was an emotion Chen Fei was familiar with—not fear, but an overwhelming, unyielding confusion.

Chen Fei knew that confusion was harder to deal with than fear: fear would make people retreat, but confusion would push them to take a gamble.