Chapter 27: The Northeast Leopard

"Master Chen, was this... done by a leopard?"

I swallowed hard, forcing down the wave of nausea as I spoke softly to Master Chen. In my experience, very few creatures were known to store their prey in trees. The most likely culprit was an Amur leopard.

"Let's go take a look! It isn't just Amur leopards that stash food in trees; even great owls do it..." Master Chen replied.

He was right, of course. Many animals—leopards, fierce birds of prey, even gorillas—did the same. We walked forward and reached the tree where the corpse hung. After carefully inspecting the nearby footprints and the claw marks on the bark, we exchanged a meaningful glance.

Master Chen looked stunned. "It really is... an Amur leopard!"

His surprise was justified. Since the 1980s, the population of Amur leopards had effectively vanished from our country—though I won't go into the reasons why. Now, the appearance of one proved that the species was not extinct in the Greater Khingan Mountains.

After the initial shock, Master Chen seemed as happy as a child, as if celebrating the return of the leopard. I understood his joy. It wasn't about the prospect of poaching a leopard for profit; it was the wonder of seeing a creature on the brink of extinction once again.

People often have a distorted view of hunters, falsely believing that the extinction of protected species is primarily their fault. That is not the case. A true hunter is intimately familiar with the forest and every animal within it. They treat these creatures as companions, for in the deep, remote mountains, it is the beasts that keep the hunter company. Most hunters only hunt for food or to sell a few pelts to make ends meet.

Are there reckless or greedy hunters? Yes, there are. We call them "scum"—the dregs of the hunting community. But I maintain that the primary causes of extinction are environmental degradation and the massive loss of primary forests. Reckless hunters are, at best, a third-tier factor. My personal suggestion? If you catch one of those, just shoot them on the spot!

Master Chen took a few deep breaths, eventually calming himself down.

"Master Chen! This body..." I gestured toward the corpse in the tree, signaling whether we should take it down. He waved his hand. "No need. Sanqi, this body already carries the scent of the leopard. If we touch it, we might be tracked down when the beast returns!"

"I see," I muttered to myself.

"Come, let's keep moving! There are four more people. I hope they're still alive," Master Chen said, leading the way.

About an hour later, we encountered two more bodies. They were so badly mangled by wolves or other scavengers that their faces were unrecognizable, their bones scattered across the ground. The sight left both Master Chen and me feeling heavy. If it had come to this, the remaining two members of the expedition team were likely doomed.

As we pushed forward, we came across a patch of dense, massive grass. Each plant had three or four leaves, and nestled within them was a pale green, bud-like structure. As the breeze blew, the leaves swayed, and thin, red stamens drifted out from the green buds.

"Master Chen, these plants are quite interesting!" I said with a smile, stepping forward to get a closer look.

But halfway there... I froze.

Looking at the grass, I realized something was wrong. There had been a frost today, and all the vegetation we had passed looked wilted and shriveled. Yet, these plants were not only unaffected but looked lush and vibrant. That was clearly unnatural.

Suddenly, a realization struck me. This grass...

Seeing me stop, Master Chen’s voice came from behind. "Keep moving! Why did you stop?"

I turned back, catching him staring intently at me. I didn't answer; instead, I instinctively stepped back until I was at his side. "Master Chen, this... this grass, could it be..."

Before I could finish, he nodded. "Yes, you guessed right. This is known as 'Blood-Grass.' It was this plant that devoured all the flesh from Qiyang's arms!"

I gulped, taking another step back. Staring at the Blood-Grass—which looked so deceptively like ordinary vegetation—I exclaimed, "Then... why didn't you warn me just now? Goodness, I almost died!"

"Warn you? Sanqi, haven't I warned you enough? If you don't have the ability to survive, you'll only end up dead in the Greater Khingan Mountains! The truth is, people die here every day. One more wouldn't make a difference."

His words stung, but upon reflection, they were blunt truths. I couldn't hide behind Master Chen forever. Sooner or later, I would have to face the forest, the beasts, and death on my own. I nodded quietly. "I understand."

Seeing my reaction, Master Chen paused in thought, then spotted a rabbit hopping toward the patch of Blood-Grass. He raised an eyebrow and pointed. "Sanqi, look for yourself."

I watched, mesmerized, as the rabbit hopped once, twice, three times. It jumped right into the center of the Blood-Grass. Suddenly, the stamen in the center of the plant lashed out like a snake, darting from the leaves and sinking into the rabbit with vicious speed.

The rabbit froze, as if paralyzed. Then, I watched with my own eyes as its body withered at a visible rate. In mere seconds, all its blood seemed to have been drained dry.

*Gulp.*

The Blood-Grass retracted its stamen. As a light breeze passed through, the leaves and stamens swayed, emitting a strange, grating sound—like a rhythmic, cackling laugh.

It was bone-chilling.

A wave of goosebumps broke out over my skin. I felt a deep sense of horror, followed by a profound sense of luck.