Chapter Twenty-Six: Slaughter and Flight

The standoff between the two lasted a long time. Mammals—whether feline or canine—are all exceedingly cautious. Throughout this prolonged confrontation, Liu Chang maintained his optimal attack posture, his nerves taut, waiting for the moment his opponent would pounce.

He angled the scalpel tip upward, seventy-five degrees above his shoulder, ready to drive it into his adversary’s abdomen the instant it leaped.

He understood that hunting was nothing like dueling; the standoff could stretch endlessly, but life and death would be decided in a fleeting moment. In such deadly clashes, there was often no room for a second strike—success or death, nothing in between.

So he stared into the wild dog’s eyes, and the dog stared back. Man and beast stood motionless for ten full minutes.

In the end, it was the wild dog’s patience that faltered before Liu Chang’s. When his arm had grown stiff from holding it aloft, the wild dog finally sprang.

From stillness to motion, from ground to air, the wild dog leaped effortlessly across more than two meters, soaring to a height parallel with Liu Chang’s neck, displaying remarkable power and agility.

Liu Chang did not disappoint himself. His keen retina caught the movement instantly; as the image flashed to his brain via his spinal nerves, he reacted—his body arched backward while his right arm thrust upward, executing a seamless evasion and attack.

A muffled sound.

Liu Chang felt resistance as his scalpel drove upward, then warmth over his fist. He knew—his scalpel had pierced the wild dog’s abdomen.

Yet the dog’s momentum carried it forward, so he twisted his wrist and sliced—hot, sticky blood smeared his hand.

He knew his attack had succeeded.

But at that very moment, a sharp pain stabbed his left chest. Though he had evaded the wild dog’s lethal bite, facing it head-on still left him wounded.

A whimper—

A grunt—

His groan and the dog’s cry sounded together as both crashed to the ground from the force of impact. Liu Chang’s arched posture sent his head thudding against the earth, darkness clouding his vision for half a second.

The wild dog, though mortally wounded, landed better and stood first. But the gash in its abdomen had stripped it of all ferocity; driven by the animal’s survival instinct, it whimpered and bolted into the distance.

"Damn." In that half-second pause, all these events unfolded. Liu Chang lay on the ground, saw the wild dog vanish into the grass, and sprang up in pursuit.

He’d glimpsed the severity of the wound he’d inflicted—a ten-centimeter gash across the abdomen. Though not enough to spill its entrails, it was fatal; the dog couldn’t go far.

Rising, Liu Chang followed the trail of blood.

"Brother, don’t chase it!" The little girl’s voice called out behind him as he stood.

"What is it?" He didn’t turn or stop, continuing along the blood trail. But after a dozen meters, he realized he’d underestimated the canine’s speed—even wounded, the wild dog easily outpaced a human on two legs.

Yet Liu Chang no longer felt urgency. The gash was too deep and long; the dog, no matter how far it ran, would leave a clear blood trail revealing its location.

So, after a few more steps, he halted—too far from the girl for comfort.

After waiting a few seconds, the girl ran up behind him, panting. "Brother, brother… don’t chase it!"

"Don’t chase it? What do you mean?" Liu Chang frowned.

"A creature with a danger level of eight just appeared in the direction the blood trail leads," she pointed.

"Eight?" Liu Chang frowned deeper.

"Yes, and it’s moving fast. It must be a large animal," the girl closed her eyes, silently sensing the image in her mind.

"How did it get here? Wasn’t it absent just now?"

"Yes, it must have been a hundred meters out of my sensing range before. But it’s running so fast, it rushed into my perception," she opened her eyes and tugged his sleeve. "Let’s go. A danger level eight creature is too strong."

"No, I can’t leave. If I don’t get food, I’ll starve in a few days. And this is only the first day—my body’s at its best. If I can’t catch anything now, I’ll be weaker and even less able later. Either way, I’ll die. I can’t stand the idea that today’s efforts will be wasted. I have to take a look, at least."

Watching his prey slip away was unbearable for anyone. After three seconds of indecision, Liu Chang stomped his foot. "No matter what, I have to see for myself."

"But—"

"It’s fine. My senses are sharp. I’ll stay at a distance and observe; it won’t notice me." With that, Liu Chang slipped into the grass. "Stay here, don’t follow. I’ll come back for you soon."

Following the blood trail, Liu Chang hurried ahead. Soon, he heard a pained whimper directly ahead—a sound unique to canines, uttered when they hurt. But this time, the cry was abruptly cut off. Liu Chang realized—his prey was dead.

No need to follow the blood trail; he rushed toward the sound and, dozens of meters out, saw the wild dog.

It was dead, clenched in the jaws of a giant white cat. Crimson blood stained its snowy whiskers.

"What a huge cat!" Standing seven meters from this creature, which could no longer be called a mere cat, Liu Chang swallowed hard.

It was a pure white feline, roughly four meters long—bigger than any tiger, and with an even longer, fluffy tail curled around its body like a pillar of snow, beautiful to behold.

"Whose damn cat is this? Letting it grow so big and not keeping it in check—there’s no hope now." Upon seeing the giant feline, Liu Chang abandoned all thoughts of claiming his prey. Feline predators, unlike canines, are more agile, with superior solo hunting prowess. Their nimble forelimbs are deadly against smaller animals. And given this cat’s size, plus its mutated strength, it could easily handle several tigers at once. No matter how brave Liu Chang was, he wouldn’t risk his life.

So he watched as the giant cat, carrying the dead dog, leaped onto a distant building and vanished from sight.

The iron law of nature’s contest for prey had, at last, been validated upon him.