The Evolutionary Path of the Lion

Chapter 82 Marcus, Sweating Profusely

Chen Fei memorized the change, then took twenty meters forward and stopped at a distance of eighty meters.

The one-legged body tensed abruptly, its right forelimb instinctively taking half a step back, the scars at the joints gleaming white in the twilight, before stopping and not retreating any further.

Chen Fei sat down eighty meters away, his buttocks bending a blade of grass. He shifted his gaze from the one-legged man to the water on the north side of the sandbar, where shimmering light danced on his mane.

Ignore it, don't oppress it, just sit here quietly.

It stood on one leg for a long time, slowly adjusting the center of gravity of its right forelimb to the left and right sides, and finally gently lowered it, relaxing its strength and completely shifting its center of gravity to its left forelimb, as it was shedding some of its defensive posture.

It's not about trust, it's about observation.

But observation itself is a door that pries open the cracks.

Chen Fei sat at the eighty-meter mark for nearly half an hour, getting up once during which he walked to the water's edge on the north side of the sandbar, lowered his head and drank two mouthfuls of water, the water dripping down his lips onto the wet mud, before returning to his original spot and sitting down again.

The one-legged man didn't move the whole time, just stood there watching him, his eyes growing brighter and brighter in the twilight.

As dusk settled, the crimson sunset faded to the west, casting a bluish-gray hue over the grassland, and the distant chirping of insects began to rise and fall. Chen Fei stood up, walked ten meters downstream, and stopped on the soft mud of the riverbank.

This soft mud wasn't there yesterday; it was left behind when the river receded. It's dark brown, and its surface is so smooth that it reflects the setting sun, like an open animal skin canvas.

Chen Fei stared down at the patch of mud, his nose twitching.

Then it raised its right front paw, slowly pressing the claw tip down. The four toe pads first pressed against the mud surface, then sank down, and the paw pads followed. The claw tip's mark was half a fraction deeper than the paw pads, leaving a clear, complete claw mark on the mud.

He took two steps forward, and his left forepaw followed suit, leaving two paw prints side by side with the toes pointing downstream, like a silent trajectory.

After doing all this, he got up and walked downstream without looking back.

The sound of sand and gravel scraping came from behind. He walked down the sandbar on one leg, the sound of his hoof stepping on the wet mud getting closer and closer. He stopped in front of the claw marks. Chen Fei did not turn around, his pace was not disordered, and he continued to walk downstream.

It will see the two claw marks, pointing downstream, which are the tracks of a journey from the upstream territory to the downstream.

It's not about occupation, it's about a route.

It means, "I came from here, I'm going there, I'm not here to steal."

Whether it understands or not, it's up to it to decide.

[Host: Chen Fei]

[Identity: Sub-adult male lion]

[Energy Points: 908↑]

The survey team's camp fell completely silent before nightfall, with only the camp lights humming softly and casting a warm yellow glow across the grassland.

Marcus sat alone at the folding table in the center of the camp, his fingertips loosening the four screws on the satellite communication device. The back cover popped open with a "click," revealing the circuit board, its cold white metallic sheen. He brought the device close to the camp light, squinting as he carefully inspected it. The solder joints were not loose, the wires were not oxidized, and everything was in perfect condition.

He reinstalled the circuit board, tightened the back cover, pressed the power button, and waited for the signal to be established.

The progress bar spun slowly for a full minute before the "signal established" message popped up. The strength indicator showed three bars, one bar dimmer than yesterday, and the flashing frequency was also slower.

Marcus picked up his pen and wrote a line in his notebook: Day 4, satellite signal strength decreased, setup time increased by about 55 seconds, no obvious abnormalities on the circuit board, suspected external interference source.

He closed his notebook, stood up, stretched, and his spine made a soft "crack" sound. He then picked up a flashlight and walked around the perimeter of the camp to check the equipment setup.

The thermal imaging camera on the tripod on the east side, its lens pointed towards the hunting grounds, had its green charging indicator light steadily lit, and its casing still retained the warmth of the day. The scent collector on the south side had a clean white filter, which had just been replaced yesterday; the liquid in the collection tube swayed gently in the wind, and the collection volume was the same as usual.

everything is normal.

Marcus walked back to the center of the camp, placed the flashlight on the folding table, sat down in the folding chair, tapped the table with his fingertips, and mentally reviewed today's equipment inspection report: the satellite signal was intermittently weakened; the thermal imaging captured three abnormal heat sources that disappeared instantly when advancing on the east side yesterday; and the concentration of hyena odor in the filter on the south side of the odor collector was 23 percent higher than last week.

Three anomalies, three different directions.

He had been working on this grassland for nearly two months. He had seen equipment malfunctions before, but the simultaneous occurrence of sporadic anomalies in three directions still made him nervous.

He picked up the notebook, flipped back to today's page, added a heavy question mark after "suspected external interference source," and then closed it.

The grass outside the camp rustled in the night wind, mixed with the faint roars of beasts in the distance.

Marcus picked up his flashlight and swept it around the perimeter of the camp. The beam of light cast a white fan shape in the grass, but there was nothing there except for the swaying blades of grass.

He stood up, preparing to return to his tent to rest.

As the beam of the flashlight shone back, it suddenly swept across the muddy ground next to the boundary marker on the east side. It was the ground he had stepped on yesterday, and the treads of his boots were still clearly imprinted on it. The dark brown mud was smooth, and in addition to his footprints, there were a few fine and sharp marks.

He stopped in his tracks.

He aimed the beam of light at the muddy ground again, walked over step by step, squatted down, and his knees rustled the grass.

The boundary marker on the east side of the camp was put up last week. The white plastic marker had the camp number written on it with a marker and was still a little muddy. In the mud next to the boundary marker, next to his boot print, the fine marks were shallow but clear. Under the direct light of the flashlight, the shadow of each line was distinct.

Marcus held the flashlight close, the light almost touching the mud, and read the lines from left to right.

EQUIPMENT

His fingers paused for a moment, and his throat moved.

MALFUNCTION

ZONE

AVOID

He squatted down in front of the muddy ground and read the words again to make sure he hadn't misread them.

"EQUIPMENT MALFUNCTION ZONE AVOID. Equipment malfunction zone, please avoid."

Marcus gripped the flashlight tightly, his knuckles turning white. The beam of light lingered on the words for almost a minute before he abruptly looked up and swept it around the rest of the camp.

He was the only one in the camp. The shadow of his tent stretched long on the ground. The surroundings were eerily quiet; even the chirping of insects seemed to have stopped.

He lifted his knees off the ground, moved to the dry ground next to him, squatted down, and looked down at the words again.

The handwriting was drawn with a thin, hard object. The lines are not completely uniform in depth, but the strokes of each letter are correct, and the spacing is the spacing that humans are accustomed to when writing, not randomly drawn.

Someone left these words here.

The wind blew in from the perimeter of the camp, rustling the grass and carrying the coolness of the prairie night, but Marcus's back was covered in a layer of cold sweat.