Darkstone Code

The wilderness camp was quite different from what Lynch had imagined. He had been to several other camps, even some on the vast grasslands, but those places didn't feel like they were protecting humans but rather preventing humans from harming nature.

A kind of reverse protection, people were confined within camps that could only control human behavior, while the walls were actually too low to block the leap of a large feline.

But there's no need to worry about animals going out of their minds and attacking a human camp. In nature, animals are more aware than humans of the importance of abiding by rules and the value of not rashly entering another animal's territory.

Here, on this grassland, thick wooden stakes formed the outer barricade, large enough for a person to wrap their arms around—if not thicker.

They might not call them the same thing here, but the craftsmanship was identical, with sharpened wood facing outward. Many stakes were covered with a black crust of dried blood, and a peculiar odor lingered when they arrived.

The inner circle was also made of sturdy wooden walls, very solid, making the entire camp stand like a small fortress on the grassland.

Seeing Lynch's apparent curiosity about everything, Hassana showed interest and introduced it with a proud tone, "Our position here isn't very favorable. Every year, during the animal migration, they pass by nearby, and sometimes they get curious. Some of them want to see what's beyond this grassland."

"The blood on the wood outside the camp was left by beasts when they charged at the camp…" he said, as if recalling something, "If you're in no rush, you'll see scenes that are rarely witnessed. I bet you haven't seen anything like it!"

He praised it exaggeratedly, "A stunning spectacle!"

Lynch nodded noncommittally and got out after the car stopped.

Inside the camp, there were already vehicles being serviced. These vehicles were taller and larger, with big tires; rather than regular cars, they were more like modified agricultural machinery—safe, reliable, and sturdy, with the only drawback being their slow speed.

When seated inside, the line of sight was about two meters high, clearly surpassing the thick overgrown grass of the grassland, so the view wasn't obstructed.

At that moment, a young man resembling Hassana approached proactively, calling "Uncle" and then glancing at Lynch.

Hassana introduced Lynch to him, and the young man, older than Lynch, immediately grew respectful upon hearing the name. It had only been a night, but he had already heard the name several times.

He was here partly because of Lynch, respectfully addressing him as "Mr. Lynch" before discussing his earlier thoughts, "Uncle, our sentries have already spotted their vanguard about eighty kilometers away. Should we mobilize?"

Hassana pondered briefly and nodded, turning to Lynch to explain their uncle-nephew exchange.

"Mr. Lynch, do you think this place is teeming with vitality?" Hassana asked, and Lynch naturally affirmed. Hassana, however, smiled and said, "It is vibrant here, but it's also full of unimaginable dangers."

"There's indeed a severe lack of water here, I mean rivers and lakes that can directly provide water to animals."

"Animals can only fill their stomachs and replenish some water by grazing on the wild grass, but there are too many animals, and they can easily devour the grass of an entire area. So, for food and water, they must constantly migrate."

"Until the rainy season arrives, they'll traverse the grasslands and return to areas with fixed water sources. Once the water dries up, they begin migrating again."

"These herbivores migrate, and there are other animals that migrate because they do, like carnivores."

"These carnivores are our targets!"

After saying this, Hassana patted his nephew's arm, "Let the lads prepare; I want to get the mightiest leopard lion to gift to my friend Mr. Lynch!"

They began preparations for the hunt, and the Senior Soldier found Lynch nearby, handing him a handgun, "Know how to use it?"

Lynch weighed the cool metal in his hand, which gave a great sense of security, and he nodded, "Unlock the safety, pull the trigger, and leave the rest to the Lord!"

The Senior Soldier was slightly startled before bursting into laughter, "The Lord doesn't handle these matters. Let's hope we won't be too close, because if it's really a migration, those…" he looked back at the various large vehicles undergoing final checks, "won't withstand the animals' stampedes at all!"

The Federation doesn't have such a spectacular scene of animal migration. If they had so many animals, they wouldn't need protective reserves to save those nearly extinct creatures.

Some elites also don't have to spend money hunting in surrounding countries annually; reportedly, some wealthy people spend as much on hunting abroad each year as a small micro-business's annual profit, yet they delight in it, even paying a hefty sum to ship their prey back home.

Although the Federation doesn't have animal migrations, it has television. They watched similar footage, showing entire animal groups like an unstoppable, violently roaring torrent, tearing apart everything in its path.

Lynch hesitated for a moment, pulling the Senior Soldier aside for a couple of steps, "Later, go tell that young man to leave two small cars for you. If things seem off, we'll leave immediately."

After a brief rest at noon, the group set out from the camp.

Lynch initially thought everyone would be driving those big cars, but it turned out he was wrong. Only he, Hassana, and a few rifle holders could ride the big cars; the others were in small cars, and some even rode horses!

The horse riders moved quickly, investigating the situation up ahead, while the small cars were loaded with people whose behavior Lynch found somewhat strange.

They were indifferent, neither excited nor anxious, calmly inspecting their gear — mostly thick leather and metal plates made to protect the body, along with ropes and nets.

As for the big cars, they were for people like Lynch and Hassana.

The scenery of the prairie was extraordinary, with tall grasses over a meter high hiding many dangers, leaving only deceptive beauty.

While he was casually chatting with Hassana about some Federation anecdotes, a Knight distanced from the convoy suddenly swayed, a tawny thing flashed in Lynch's eyes, and both the Knight and his horse vanished into the grass.

About half a minute later, a riderless horse stood up again, frantically running back towards the convoy, instantly creating tension.

Hassana's nephew furrowed his brow, whispered a few words to those around, and a local Hunter on the second big car lifted his rifle. With the sound of a shot, the galloping horse fell to the ground.

Around the fallen horse, some waist-high grass began to shake like boiling water, but soon calmed down.

Hassana looked at Lynch with a half-smile, "The migrating herd is approaching because the predators are already here!" It seemed neither he nor anyone else cared about what the missing Knight was encountering—no one was concerned about the Knight; everyone had become accustomed to it.

More than forty minutes ahead of schedule, the Knight furthest out reported that they had already encountered the forefront of the migrating herd.

This segment of animals wasn't many; they were just the scouting party. To humans and outsiders, the prairie situation appeared the same each year, but inevitably, there were differences.

The scouting herd mostly consisted of "young and strong" animals, most sensitive to changes in the prairie, tasked with leading the group to find food-rich "home routes."

About ten minutes later, Lynch saw one of these animals; it was robust, about two to three meters long, at least 1.78 meters tall, with gray skin, brown fur, a short neck, resembling a cow but lacking horns, replaced by a bone structure like a round bowl upside down on its head.

That was their headbutt, very hard. When this thing weighing several tons charged and hit something, it was akin to a car crash.

"Foreigners call them Akutasiya cattle, saying they're not cows, but to us, they are cow!" Hassana spoke of this with a hint of disdain, seemingly unimpressed by foreigners naming animals unrelated to them in his country and insisting on using those names.

"These scouts need to check the moisture and grass distribution; their slow pace gives predators a chance."

"If they're in packs, predators wouldn't dare attack; they always circle the migration group's front and back, hunting continuously."

"Among them, the youngest, strongest predators choose the front, while the old and weak ones pick off behind."

Hassana looked at Lynch sincerely, "You're my friend, and I want to give the best to my friend, so we'll hunt the strongest leopards!"

With a wave of his hand, some Knights whipped their horses, approaching the slow-walking hammerhead cattle. They didn't capture these beasts but kept brushing past them.

During the encounters, they'd use sharp knives to slice open gashes on the hammerhead cattle.

Injured cattle began to run, bleeding from the wounds, leaving trails on grass stalks and the ground.

More and more cattle started running wildly from injury and fright, only stopping when noticing no further harm, then the Knights chased again.

In less than twenty minutes, even Lynch in the distance could faintly smell blood!

The intense scent of blood!