Chapter 304: Man and Nature

The large cart offered a wide view from a relatively high vantage point, allowing Lynch to see everything happening within a certain area. All around, grass rustled as if something was hiding and moving quickly within it.

These were the predators of the grasslands, the main hunters in Nagaryll — the leopard-lions.

Leopard-lions were neither leopards nor lions but a distinct feline species, with spotted patterns like a leopard and a ring of golden fur around their necks.

Once, lions and leopards roamed this plain, but as the leopard-lion population grew, the others were pushed farther away, some even driven out entirely. Now, the primary carnivores here were leopard-lions and spotted wolves.

Spotted wolves were territorial and stayed in their domains. More resilient to hunger and less demanding of their environment than leopard-lions, they didn’t migrate with the herbivores.

They were also cautious of humans, rarely attacking villages except in severe food shortages.

Only the leopard-lions needed a steady food supply to maintain their strength and raise their young, so they followed the migrating prey.

Minutes later, the once-rustling grass fell completely silent, a silence heavy and oppressive.

The hunters descended from the cart, carrying ropes and nets, moving slowly toward the herd.

Lynch noticed the knights constantly herding the hammerhead cattle into a confined area — preparation for the next stage of the hunt targeting the predators.

Suddenly, a trembling hammerhead raised its head alertly, scanning for danger — but too slowly.

In the sunlight, a golden shape shot from the grass like lightning, leaping onto the cattle’s back.

A strong adult leopard-lion, its fur shimmering beautifully under the sun, especially the golden mane around its neck.

Its claws, three to four inches long and razor-sharp, dug deep into the cattle’s flesh. It bit into the wound, blood staining its golden fur, adding a fierce beauty.

A second leopard-lion leapt out, then a third, and more followed.

The herd erupted into chaos. The frightened and wounded cattle, unable to band together as before, scattered in disarray.

Their injuries made them believe they were already doomed, fear overtaking their weak instincts, preventing them from forming a defensive group.

The knights retreated gradually as the armed hunters stepped forward.

It was almost comical, yet heavy with a grim reality.

“We could use guns and knives, but intact pelts fetch higher prices, and so do live animals. I told them no weapons!” Hassana’s eyes gleamed with greed and bloodlust as he raised an old telescope to enjoy the hunt.

Through the lens, the approaching hunters targeted a weakened hammerhead lying helpless on the ground.

Surrounding it were seven or eight leopard-lions, some gripping its throat, others tearing at its testicles, and the rest ripping open its soft abdomen.

Blood, entrails, and a sharp, acrid stench filled the air. The cattle was still alive, forced to watch helplessly as its belly was torn open, its innards spilled on the ground, waiting for death.

As the hunters neared, the feeding leopard-lions growled a warning.

This was their prey.

Two feeding leopard-lions crouched, hind legs tensed to pounce if the approaching bipeds didn’t leave.

But they were wrong; these humans weren’t there to steal prey—they wanted the predators themselves.

The tasty beef endangered the cattle’s life; the beautiful pelts put the leopard-lions at great risk.

The humans didn’t back down. Their defiance instantly told the leopard-lions they couldn’t reach an understanding.

As the first leopard-lion lunged, it was met by nets raised by nearby hunters.

The net was strong and wrapped tightly around the beast, but it still slammed into a man.

Both rolled far apart.

The man barely rose before his face paled and he collapsed again, bleeding from the nose. No one checked on him.

Coughing up blood, he was left alone.

In this place, such injuries were hopeless; no treatment was possible.

The leopard-lion’s charge hit like a speeding car crash, even with leather and metal armor to absorb some force.

Ribs cracked and pierced a lung, flooding it with blood, cutting off oxygen flow.

Within seconds, lack of oxygen caused him to lose balance.

He was done. His lifeless eyes stared at the bright sun, but his world darkened inexplicably.

One man’s death meant little to the animals or Nagaryll’s society.

Others fought on. The trapped leopard-lion struggled, but lacking dexterous paws and intelligence, brute force only tightened the nets.

Hunters pinned it down to tie ropes.

Other leopard-lions realized these humans were no ordinary foes and abandoned the wounded cattle to confront them.

With a ho-ho call, more leopard-lions gathered.

Hassana smiled from the cart. He loved this—seeing humanity battle nature’s fierce forces stirred his blood.

But those facing this danger didn’t share his excitement. None would come if not for money or a slim chance to change their fate.

To them, this was a death sentence.

Men and leopard-lions clashed in fierce struggle, three or four men against one leopard-lion.

Hassana forbade weapons that would damage pelts, so only ropes and nets were used.

No tranquilizer guns, no sedatives, and poisons were strictly controlled, even by Hassana—like weapon controls in some countries.

Plus, natural toxins could ruin pelts’ color.

This was to be a brutal, terrifying, and thrilling hand-to-hand fight.A brutal fight between humans and apex predators.

Lynch watched for a moment and said, “This is too slow. Maybe you should let them use weapons.”

Hassana looked back at Lynch with a half-smile. “Do damaged pelts and perfect pelts sell for the same price?”

Lynch shook his head and dropped the subject. They weren’t really talking about that, yet they were.

The fight lasted over ten minutes before winding down. Some leopard-lions gave up their prey and vanished into the grass. The rest were strangled or trapped in nets, struggling to break free.

Hassana was very satisfied with the catch. He paid the hunters, so he didn’t care about the many injured on the ground. They should be grateful for his generosity.

Next came the cleanup. The knights returned from afar, skinning the hammerhead cattle and wrapping the leopard-lions in hides to protect the pelts during transport.

Then they handed out simple supplies—cloth strips, some ash—for the wounded.

Lynch sighed quietly. Most of these people wouldn’t survive—not because their wounds were fatal.

The bite wounds looked terrible but could be treated without risking their lives. What would kill them was infection.

Leopard-lion teeth and claws carry many bacteria and viruses. Harmless to the animals themselves, but deadly once inside a human body.

Over half an hour later, Hassana’s nephew appeared, excited, reporting good news: “Fourteen leopard-lions total. Three alive, the rest dead. The pelts are all in excellent condition. I’ve never seen such high-quality pelts!”

At first, five were alive, but two broke their legs struggling. Disabled leopard-lions were worthless; no one wanted to see a zoo full of cripples.

Their pelts were still intact, so Hassana strangled them himself.