Chapter 916: Chapter 912: They Are All In Cahoots Chapter 916: Chapter 912: They Are All In Cahoots It was clearly midday, yet the sparse woods were eerily quiet.

There were no insect noises, no sound of wind, no rustling of dried leaves being crushed.

The male lion lay on the ground, and in its lower back, a slender, straight arrow was lodged, the dark red blood oozing from the wound matting its fur together, as if painted with thick clumps of black mud.

The lion’s chest rose and fell violently, each breath seeming to require all its effort, as it tried to take in as much oxygen as possible to carry the scant blood through its veins to the rest of its body.

Hidden in shadow, Bi Fang made no superfluous movements. He stood silently, as if he could hear the injured lion’s struggling breaths, like those of an old, damaged bellows on the verge of collapse.

Seeing this, Bi Fang did not act rashly.

The exposed, glossy black shaft of the arrow left no doubt it was made of carbon fiber, and the unique shield-shaped fletching proved this was not a rudimentary product carved by a primitive tribe with a dagger but, rather, from the assembly lines of modern industrial society.

The person who shot this arrow was certainly no naive tribesman unaware of the law, but a well-educated elite with a certain social status, with the financial means to pursue the minority sport of archery.

At that moment, Bi Fang suddenly realized what those always hiding in the shadows had lured with the elephant carcass.

A male lion.

A male lion in the prime of its life.

From its mane’s color and the meticulous scheming involved, it was highly likely this was the king of a lion pride.

“The elephant carcass is the bait, the target being the lion, and it’s not just ordinary poaching–the culprit wants to satisfy their hunting desire to kill the lion.”

Bi Fang finally understood the other party’s intent.

No poacher would use a flashy but impractical bow and arrow; only a hunting enthusiast who wants to pursue big game would use such cold weapons.

The elephant was merely bait to set up the hunting trap.

Realizing this, the live stream’s chat room erupted into an uproar.

Everyone was incredulous.

A brutal, illegal poaching activity was so brazenly and unashamedly unfolding before an audience of millions, and the underlying reason was simply because some elite member of society wished to satisfy their desire to hunt big game.

By paying a substantial sum of money, everything could be prepared for them, and they could fire the fatal arrow themselves.

In an instant, it seemed as though everyone could smell the thick, pungent scent of blood hanging in the air.

[Sentence poachers to death, and I’ll see who dares to poach]
[As long as there’s money to be made, any punishment is pointless. It might even lead to a situation where if poachers are discovered, they’ll kill the discoverer too. After all, it’s the death penalty either way–might as well kill another.]
[Archery doesn’t count for much–if you like hunting, why not fight the lion one-on-one, hand to hand!]
Unfortunately, Bi Fang didn’t have time to respond to the public’s outrage.

He had not forgotten that he had not followed the Lion King’s tracks here but rather the traces left by the poachers!

A lion wounded by a modern weapon undoubtedly proved that the group of poachers was here, within this very forest!

Many quick-thinking viewers also came to realize, after suggesting that the poachers might be nearby, the entire atmosphere in the live stream shifted.

Some were nervous, some concerned, and even some were tinged with a hint of excitement.

Should they go in?

Should we retreat and wait for the people from the protection center to arrive?

In fact, as early as yesterday when Bi Fang had discovered the elephant carcass and human traces nearby, he had already asked the audience in the live broadcast room to notify the protection center first.

The final response was that they would send someone to investigate as soon as possible.

But Bi Fang, worried that the poachers might succeed in their scheme, had taken the lead and pursued them.

The problem now was that Bi Fang had managed to catch up to the target in just one day, while there had still been no sign of the people the protection center had said they would send.

Looking at the lion’s heaving chest as it lay breathing its last, it was clear that there weren’t many options left for Bi Fang.

He hid behind a tree, back pressed tightly against the trunk, retracting all his limbs to reduce the area of his body exposed, and he pressed Harley down in the bushes to prevent him from showing.

The situation was somewhat unexpected, and it had become rather unlikely for Harley to leave on his own now.

In fact, having undergone nearly two months of training, Harley was already capable of racing across the savannah by himself, and Bi Fang had planned to release him back into the wild within these next couple of days.

But accidents were always unexpected, and unfortunately, there was no more room for regret at this moment.

Perhaps every person harbors a heart with the potential for murder and arson; in Bi Fang’s emotions, there wasn’t so much fear. He grasped the Short Spear in his hand, the veins on the back of his hand slowly bulging.

Adventures, he’d had too many of them.

He was no longer that crudely cast iron blank, so rough that even its shape was somewhat strange, which he had been at the beginning.

Each exploration in the wilderness was like a solid hammer strike on that rough iron blank.

The gains were not simply the orange sparks that burst forth under the collision of high temperature and high pressure.

His heart beat steadily and forcefully in his solid chest, each throb pumping an astonishing volume of blood through his veins, surging like the tide.

The enemy’s situation was still unclear, but what could be certain was there were at least three of them: a guide, a planner, and finally the hunter.

The odds were against him, and taking the initiative to attack first wasn’t a good choice. Moreover, it was still unknown exactly where the enemy was and how far away they might be.

Thus, even though the lion was at death’s door, all Bi Fang could do was wait for the enemy to make the first move and have the audience message the protection center.

Time passed second by second in calm waiting. Under the tense atmosphere, each second felt infinitely stretched.

The Lion King’s breathing grew heavier. It was evident that it was struggling to rise from the ground and leave, but the excessive bleeding had pushed its strength to the limit. By now, it had no extra energy for any movement beyond breathing.

Countless possible outcomes surfaced in the minds of many, speculating about what the poachers would look like when they finally appeared.

In such a wait, the protection center finally responded, and the appearance of an “old acquaintance” revealed the identity of the injured lion.

“Barry, are you saying that it’s the Lion King, Cecil?”

Bi Fang, holding his Spear, immediately saw the bolded text in the barrage of messages.

Broadcasting in the wild, he never carried a cell phone. Since there had been a precedent, Wolf Fang had set up this function in the live broadcast room, so that when a major event needed communication, it would appear as red enlarged text, like a message.

The person responding from the protection center was Barry, the old breeder whom Bi Fang had met while he was building a relationship with Harley.

After a few exchanges, Bi Fang immediately realized the seriousness of the situation.

This group of poachers was far more than just three; there were many people.

And the enemy had not only hunted the Lion King but also made off with the cubs from the entire pride!