MTLNOVEL Chapter 115: Bloody Art, Shot_1
"Based on the thermal imaging, those people should be in those tents. Why would they put straw men outside? Do they think that can ward off wild animals?"
Massa was startled by the blood-colored straw men swaying in the wind. From afar, they looked like a line of blood shadows beckoning from this side.
Dean had very good eyesight. After squinting for a closer look, he exhaled a puff of white breath and tightened his clothes. "Massa, that's human skin!"
"Human skin?"
Massa tried to see clearly, but his eyesight wasn't as good as Dean's. He simply gripped his rifle tighter. "Let's go. Whether or not it's human skin, at least we may have found some useful clues."
The two descended the rear slope of the hill, disturbing a herd of deer drinking water and frightening them into fleeing to the other side. The water rippled, startling a flock of birds that had not yet migrated.
Massa licked his lips. I really want to take a shot at these plump little deer. His gaze swept the surroundings with increased frequency.
He was on the alert for any inconspicuous traps or early warning devices.
As they drew closer, Massa suddenly pulled Dean to a halt. "Stop! There's something wrong with the bushes ahead!"
He pulled Dean down into a crouch, pointing toward the brown rock formation next to the bushes. "See the loose soil underneath that stone? In this U-shaped terrain, the wind on the mountainside is very strong—it wouldn't leave soil at its edge like that. Someone intentionally camouflaged that by wedging it in place."
Dean moved in cautiously and, sure enough, found a rope in the inconspicuous mud—not too thin, but blending in with the color of the ground.
Following the rope's extension, with the bush as its center, it connected seven or eight scattered rocks in a crude spider-web structure.
"What kind of mechanism is this?" Dean wondered.
The bushes were about half a person's height, sparse inside, with nothing visibly unusual.
"It must be something like steel balls!" Massa took a deep breath and pulled Dean back. "Look at the angle of those rocks on the mountainside! If someone steps on those ropes, it will dislodge the mud fixing the rocks, causing the rocks to roll down and trigger the mechanisms inside the bushes!"
After saying this, he led Dean behind a large rock, picked up a stone, and accurately hurled it toward the bush.
The next moment—
SNAP.
It was a faint, crisp sound.
The seven or eight ropes instantly tensed, jerking aside the rocks that held them, and hoisted a sparking contraption, resembling a bicycle ball-bearing disc, about a meter into the air.
A faint POP.
Innumerable black spheres shot out in all directions.
Dean watched as one hit the rock right in front of them and cracked open. He laughed, "Massa, it looks like these are just mud pellets."
Massa took a closer look. He realized these black spheres were indeed very poor-quality, air-dried mud pellets, some of which even disintegrated into scattered dust mid-air, carried away by the wind.
This contraption was aimed at the area from the legs to the abdomen, but it was filled with mud pellets, giving it the distinct air of a childish prank.
"This looks like a greeting among friends. Can you tell how long ago the trap was set up?"
"I can't tell exactly, but it's definitely from early this morning until now. As soon as night falls today, the ropes will trigger the contraption automatically due to thermal expansion and contraction. This thing is actually very sensitive."
Massa exhaled a puff of cold air. "Buddy, trust me, this isn't some practical joke; it's a way of greeting. And guess why they'd set up a trap here, on such a vast hillside?"
"Because this area is relatively gentle and has a wide field of vision," Dean responded. "Anyone wanting to go from where we came down to the campsite ahead would subconsciously choose this route. It's a simple case of 'subconscious self-suggestion.'"
Subconscious self-suggestion refers to the instinctual choices of behavioral consciousness.
It's like how most men prefer full-figured women; seeing such women, their eyes will subconsciously glance over too.
Because these women favor the growth of offspring, it's about following genetic choices and attraction, not because all men are lecherous.
"You seem to be quite good at psychology." Massa gave a thumbs-up, not stinting on his praise. "The third focus of Trace Tracking is Psychological Deduction!"
He stood up and led Dean in front of the now-defunct contraption, explaining, "This trap may seem like a harmless prank with no lethal force, but in reality, it's a form of psychological pressure. If it were ordinary officers who came into the mountains to chase the Skinning Brothers, guess what kind of psychological state they would be in after triggering the trap?"
"They'd be like scared rabbits, becoming paranoid, suspecting every bush and clump of grass conceals a trap. If the path ahead includes more intimidating little tricks, the pursuers would suffer a psychological breakdown before even encountering the Skinning Brothers."
"Right!"
"But those tricks are useless against a professional like me. Instead, they reveal that they're lingering nearby, not having ventured deep into the mountains!"
Massa tossed aside the light disc and sniffed the lingering scent of gunpowder on it. "Based on how the dampened gunpowder burned, this contraption was likely set this morning. Considering the time, perhaps when we reach that campsite, we'll see that fool who entered the mountains a bit earlier than us."
The fool he mentioned was the one who had entered the mountains a few hours before them, left many clues, fired at least seven or eight shots, but hadn't taken a single piece of game.
The two stopped discussing and proceeded more cautiously toward the lakeside campsite.