Blackstone Code
Chapter 303:

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The wilderness camp was not quite what Lynch had imagined. He'd been to other camps before, even ones on vast grasslands, but those places didn't feel like they were there to protect humans from nature; rather, they seemed designed to keep humans from harming the natural world.

It was a kind of reverse protection—humans confined within boundaries that only restricted their behavior. In truth, the low walls wouldn't stop a large feline predator from leaping over them if it so desired. But there was no need for concern about animals attacking the camp. Out here in the wild, animals understood the rules far better than humans did. They knew better than to intrude recklessly into another creature's territory.

Here, on this expansive plain, thick logs—each requiring at least one person to wrap their arms around, or even thicker—formed the outermost defensive barrier. Locals might call these structures something else, but the design was familiar: sharpened stakes pointed outward, many covered with layers of dried blood, giving off an unsettling stench as they arrived.

Inside this perimeter stood another sturdy wooden wall, tightly constructed. The entire encampment resembled a small fortress standing defiantly amidst the endless plains.

Seeing Lynch's curiosity about everything around him, Hassanah grew animated. With a hint of pride in his voice, he began explaining, "Our location isn't ideal. Every year during the great animal migration, herds pass near here. Sometimes, driven by curiosity, some of them wander closer, trying to see what lies beyond the grassland."

"The blood on the stakes outside? That came from beasts attempting to breach the camp," he said, pausing as though recalling something vividly. "If you're not in a hurry, you'll witness something truly rare. I guarantee you've never seen anything like it."

He leaned in, his tone dramatic and full of exaggerated admiration. "A breathtaking sight."

Lynch nodded noncommittally. When the vehicle came to a stop, he stepped out. Inside the camp, several vehicles were being serviced—large, rugged machines more akin to modified agricultural equipment than cars. Sturdy and reliable, their main drawback was speed. From the passenger compartment, one could look out at a height of roughly two meters, well above the tall grasses that blanketed the plains, ensuring clear visibility.

Just then, a young man who bore a resemblance to Hassanah approached. After greeting Hassanah with a respectful "Uncle," he glanced at Lynch. Hassanah introduced Lynch, and the younger man's demeanor immediately shifted to one of deference. Overnight, rumors of Lynch's presence had spread, and now, seeing him in person, the young man addressed him formally as "Mr. Lynch" before turning to speak to Hassanah.

"Uncle, our scouts have spotted their vanguard. They're about eighty kilometers away. Should we move?"

Hassanah pondered briefly, then nodded. Turning to Lynch, he explained the exchange between uncle and nephew.

"Mr. Lynch," Hassanah asked, "do you find this place teeming with life?" Lynch answered affirmatively, but Hassanah chuckled softly. "Indeed, it is alive—but also filled with dangers unimaginable to most."

"This region lacks water, I mean rivers and lakes where animals can drink directly. Instead, they rely on grazing to fill their bellies while extracting moisture from the grass. But there are too many animals. They strip bare entire areas quickly, forcing constant migration in search of food and hydration."

"Only when the rainy season arrives do they circle back to areas with permanent water sources. Once those dry up again, the cycle begins anew. These herbivores migrate, followed by others—predators drawn by the movement of prey."

"And those predators," Hassanah concluded, his eyes gleaming, "are our targets."

With that, he clapped his nephew on the shoulder. "Prepare the men. Today, I intend to take down the strongest leopard-lion for my friend Mr. Lynch."

As preparations commenced, the staff sergeant found Lynch and handed him a pistol. "Do you know how to use this?"

Lynch weighed the cold metal in his hand, its solid presence offering a strange comfort. He nodded. "Turn off the safety, pull the trigger, and leave the rest to God."

The staff sergeant was taken aback for a moment, then laughed. "God doesn't meddle in such matters. Let's hope we don't get too close. If it really is a mass migration…" He glanced back at the massive vehicles undergoing final checks. "…we won't stand a chance against the stampede."

In the Federation, there were no spectacles of animal migrations to behold. If they had such abundant wildlife, they wouldn't need reserves to protect endangered species. Nor would elites spend fortunes traveling abroad each year to hunt. Some wealthy individuals reportedly spent sums equivalent to a small business's annual profits just to bag trophies overseas, shipping them home at great expense.

Though the Federation lacked animal migrations, it had television. Through screens, people had glimpsed scenes of migrating herds—a relentless, torrential flood tearing through everything in its path.

After a moment's hesitation, Lynch pulled the staff sergeant aside. "Tell the young man to set aside two smaller vehicles for us. If things go south, we'll make a quick exit."

They rested briefly after lunch before setting out from the camp. Lynch assumed everyone would ride in the larger vehicles, but he was mistaken. Only he, Hassanah, and a few armed guards rode in the big rigs. The rest traveled in smaller cars—or even on horseback.

The horse riders moved swiftly ahead to scout, while the smaller vehicles carried passengers whose demeanor struck Lynch as peculiar. They weren't excited or nervous; instead, they calmly checked their gear—thick leather armor reinforced with metal plates, ropes, nets, and other tools.

Meanwhile, inside the larger vehicles sat Lynch, Hassanah, and other people.

The grassland offered deceptive beauty. Grass taller than a meter concealed countless dangers, leaving behind only an illusion of tranquility.

As Lynch chatted casually with Hassanah about amusing anecdotes from the Federation, one of the distant horse riders suddenly swayed in his saddle. A tawny blur flashed past Lynch's vision, and both horse rider and horse vanished into the grass.

About thirty seconds later, the riderless horse reemerged, galloping frantically toward the convoy. Tension rippled through the group.

Hassanah's nephew frowned, whispering to someone nearby. A local hunter aboard the second large vehicle raised his rifle. A sharp crack echoed across the plain, and the charging horse collapsed instantly.

Around the fallen beast, the tall grass began to sway violently, like boiling water, before settling once more.

Hassanah smirked faintly at Lynch. "The migrating herds are almost upon us—the predators have already arrived." Neither he nor anyone else appeared concerned about the missing rider. Such losses were routine, accepted without question.

More than forty minutes ahead of schedule, the lead horse rider signaled contact with the vanguard of the migrating herd. This initial group wasn't large; they were scouts sent to assess conditions. To the untrained eye, the plains might seem unchanged year after year, but subtle differences always existed.

These scouts were typically the strongest and healthiest members of their species, highly attuned to changes in the environment. Their task was to guide the herd along routes rich in food and water.

Ten minutes later, Lynch caught sight of one of these creatures. It was robust, measuring two to three meters long and nearly two meters tall, with gray skin and brown fur. Its short neck gave it a bovine appearance, though it lacked horns. Instead, atop its head sat a bony structure resembling an inverted bowl. That was their headbutt tool, very hard. When this type of animal that looked at least several tons heavy ram up and hit something with a headbutt, it was probably no less serious than a car accident.

"Foreigners call them 'Yagutasian Bovine,' saying that these creatures aren't actually cattles. But for us, they are cattles!" Hassanah's tone carried a hint of disdain as he spoke about the matter. He seemed particularly irritated by the fact that foreigners had come to his country, named these animals—which had no connection to them—and then expected everyone else to adopt their terminology.

"These scouts move slowly, probing for water vapor and grazing land. This gives predators an opening. Against a full herd of hammerhead bovines, predators wouldn't dare strike. Instead, they linger at the front and rear edges of the migration, picking off stragglers."

"Among them, the youngest and strongest predators always position themselves at the forefront. Only the older, weaker ones linger at the back of the group to scavenge for scraps."

Hassanah turned earnestly to Lynch. "You are my friend, and I wish to give you the finest gift. Therefore, we shall hunt the mightiest leopard-lion."

With a wave of his hand, riders spurred their horses forward, closing in on the lumbering hammerhead bovines. Rather than capturing the beasts outright, they darted alongside them, slicing shallow cuts into their hides with sharp knives.

The wounded bovines bolted, blood spilling onto the grass. Startled but finding no immediate threat, they soon slowed down, only for the riders to pursue them again.Please vote for this novel at https://www.novelupdates.com/series/blackstone-code/There are advance chapters available nowAccess will be granted 24 hours after the donationTier 1: 20 Advance chapters Link

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