The blade flashed across the neck, and the body in his hand convulsed violently, emitting a tremor that was disproportionate to its small size, as if it would burst out all the life contained within. As the warm, pungent liquid dripped slowly into his mouth, the trembling between his fingers also gradually subsided, finally disappearing. Asa squeezed the mountain mouse with all his might, not caring that the contents of its stomach were also being squeezed out. Not until the last drop of bodily fluid had slowly fallen did Asa discard the now twisted and deformed mountain mouse, sticking out his tongue to lick the blood from the corners of his mouth.

  I dont want to die.

  A bloody flavor steamed up from the stomach. The throat made a low, muffled roar of its own accord, dull and distant, long and drawn out, not like something coming from an organ, but from some fold in the soul.

  This sound he remembered, when he was three years old, hiding in a tree, watching several hunters in the village surround and capture a wounded wolf. He was shaken by the low growl of the wolf, not with fear, but with a sense that the deepest string in his soul resonated with it. Since then, he has been obsessed with understanding animal language for a while.

  He now understands that the voice was originally meaningless, just a scream of life in the face of death threats, is a strong desire to survive and a nearly mad beastly overflow in the heart.

  Three days of drinking blood and extreme tension, as well as physical exhaustion. The threat of death lurking behind him and his own strong desire to survive tormented him, making him almost a complete beast. Fortunately, reason still dominated all actions.

  Asa was well aware of the gap in ability between himself and the pursuers. He remembered vividly how the two infantrymen from the third platoon had their heads smashed like watermelons in an instant. Now, the only thing he could rely on was the advantage of having grasped the opponents intentions.

  The pursuer was not exerting himself to chase him. This was no hunt to the death, where the pursuer would try to catch up as quickly as possible and risk being injured by a desperate beast in a tight spot. This was hunting, chasing the prey until it weakened from fear and exhaustion, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, killing with ease like crushing an old mouse, then beheading him. Neither physically nor with his survival skills in this swampy forest could he escape the pursuer. Both parties were well aware of this.

  For three days, Asa put on the appearance of a desperate fugitive that the pursuers hoped to see. His physical strength was also rapidly declining as if he were really fleeing for his life. He couldnt start a fire and didnt have enough food. In the alligator swamp, eating any animal meat would be suicidal due to the parasites inside, which could be fatal to humans. Instead, he could only look for some non-toxic insects to eat. Although animal blood was safe and could provide some replenishment, it was not enough to compensate for the loss of sweat and physical strength caused by intense exercise. The lack of salt and food had almost reached its limit, and he had to end the illusion he had created over the past three days with an action that couldnt afford any mistake.

  Excellent luck, and soon found three non-toxic earthworms from the surrounding grass and shrubs. As big as thumbs, they were lively and flipping around in his hands. Holding the head with his fingers, he slowly squeezed out the green feces. He had to squeeze hard enough not to break the worms body, making the nutritious juice splash out, while trying to get rid of the possibly toxic feces as much as possible. This was a very delicate skill, and after using it for a few days, Asa had become quite proficient.

  The tender insect flesh quickly became a thick paste between the teeth, and the slippery bitter taste stuck to the taste buds like the swampy air on the skin. Asa carefully ground with his teeth, using his tongue to search for any larger chunks of meat that might have been missed in the paste, ensuring that every bit of the insects body was broken down into the smallest possible units for easy digestion. Every drop of nutrition was precious, a source of energy and hope for survival.

  He dug a hole about a foot deep in the ground with his knife and buried the marmots body. For three days, every time he killed an animal, he would spare no effort to bury its body.

  He slung the knife over his back, carefully checked himself to make sure every garment was smooth and flat, then cautiously stepped onto the freshly buried mound of mountain rat earth, slowly crouched down, lay prone, like a giant mutated worm, and slowly inched towards a puddle of filthy water nearby.

  He focused all his attention on this ugly movement, carefully controlling every muscle in his body to make it as flat as possible against the ground, leaving no noticeable marks on the soft muddy ground. Any loss of control and coordination would render the three-day plan completely useless.

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly sank into the chest-deep polluted water without causing any ripples. The weight of the knife was just enough to keep him from floating up, and he moved through the muddy bottom in the direction he remembered. This pool of polluted water led to a temporary small river formed by the rainy season, and he had come here on purpose, choosing this terrain to bury the body, everything was part of the plan.

  There were several places on his body that ached slightly, and the leeches had attached themselves to him. Asa didnt bother to remove them, they would drop off by themselves after sucking enough blood, and forcibly pulling them off might leave their suckers in the skin and cause infection. Now the most important thing was to dive as far away as possible before the next air change.

  In my mind, I reviewed every detail of what had just happened. Without any flaws, the great joy of being born again was quietly born. Now the only problem is the corpse of the mountain rat, which must rot to a sufficient degree before the pursuer arrives, to the extent that it emits a certain smell.

  I just need a rotten luck now.

  On the mire formed by rotting matter deposits, Asa moved his limbs like a lizard that eats rot and prayed desperately.

  In the afternoon, the rare sun in the lizard swamp showed its face for a moment.

  The sunlight was cut into pieces by the branches and fell down in fragments. The damp ground transformed the suns body into a layer of mist that swirled between the trees leaves and the ground, refusing to disperse. In this stifling, humid veil, all swamp life grew rapidly, lived quickly, and died swiftly to nourish other lives, even rapid decay seemed full of vitality.

  The hunter watched quietly as a large group of vultures enthusiastically scrambled for the corpse of a mountain mouse. He disliked the strong smell of mucus on these ugly scavengers, which was too intense for his sensitive sense of smell. A larger vulture triumphantly snatched the body and turned to escape, while the others immediately swarmed after it, disappearing into the forest, leaving behind only a dug-out hole and footprints all over the ground.

  As a human, this prey is quite good, with speed, agility and strength all being excellent. The hunter is very interested and has considerable confidence in killing him in a head-on battle.

  However, having only a certain degree of grasp is not enough. This isnt a battlefield, but a hunt, where you need to use your certain degree of grasp to gradually evolve into sufficient grasp. From yesterday onwards, the footprints have started to become increasingly weak and empty.

  Now, the hunter felt he had enough confidence.

  But this was also a strange prey. Although it was indeed being chased, the footprints did not show the chaos and panic that a hunted animal should have. The weak footsteps revealed a strange determination, which was not just fleeing for life, but there was something else hidden in it.

  These three days of covering up the traces were not bad, but they kept making a stupid mistake - burying the animal carcasses that had been sucked dry. This was completely counterproductive, as the lizards would dig up and eat the corpses following the smell of rot. The hunters only needed to follow the stench of the large group of lizards.

  An incomprehensible mentality, foolish mistakes, there seems to be a subtle connection between the two. This feeling makes the hunter feel a bit strange. However, its just limited to being strange, after catching up, killing, and cutting off the head, theres nothing strange about it. No animal can escape its own tracking in this swampy forest. The hunter has absolute confidence in this regard. Absolutely.

  But the hunters were immediately astonished to find that all the traces stopped here and did not extend in any direction.

  The air was left with only the pungent smell unique to the swamp lizard. The hunter bent down, carefully examining any spider silk or trail on the ground. Although the lizards crawling and fighting for food had messed up the surrounding area, for the hunters super strong observation power and experience, the traces of this prey were still visible, and with a little time, all the tracks around could be investigated clearly.

  Some light but unhurried footsteps, without any signs of retreating or backtracking, only circling around the bushes a few times, probably searching for food. The hunter could even tell that the first thing he found was from under two sheeps foot ferns, probably just an insect. The front half of the two footprints were slightly deeper, showing the center of gravity shifting forward as he bent down. But apart from this, nothing else was discovered. The footprints stopped abruptly in front of the pit where the body was originally buried.

  This completely exceeded the category of experience accumulated by the hunting tribe over the years. Escaping, disguising, gradually decreasing physical strength... The hunter can only rely on his own brain to connect these things and hope to get something other than experience from them. However, a brain lacking logical thinking ability finds it difficult to complete this task. When he realized that he was stepping into a strange trap one step at a time, just as the fugitive had hoped, an uncontrollable fury occupied all his thoughts.

  A lizard shook its head and crawled back, sniffing around the pit, hoping to find some benefits. But it immediately became the object of venting for the furious person next to it. The huge body flew high into the air with a violent blow, then fell into the muddy pool, splashing mud and water everywhere. Along with the mud and water that landed on the shore were several leeches, clumsily crawling back to the water with their swollen bodies after feeding. The hunter noticed, picked one up, looked at it carefully, pinched it open with a snap, tasted the liquid flowing out of it, and then had an eerie expression on his face that other races couldnt understand.

  Pressed against the ground, the most sensitive sense of smell on the entire continent finally distinguished a thread of the scent he had been hoping to find from the stench of the mucus emitted by the lizard and the rotting smell of the mud. The scent extended towards the polluted water pit.

  While still alive, tear out the heart, rip apart with teeth the thing thats still throbbing and warm, and swallow it along with the freshest blood inside, turning the cunning within into ones own strength.

  The skull must not be damaged. Slowly dig out the brain from the eye sockets and eat it, peel off the skin, and ask the best craftsmen to grind the skull bones. This perfect spoil can be placed on the ancestral tomb. As a sacrifice, this is further evidence of the tribes proud hunting skills.

  Youre my prey.

  A long-forgotten thrill coursed through the runners entire body, a feeling that had only stirred in him when he was just coming of age and chasing after the most beautiful female in his tribe.