Chen Xu's breath caught as he took in the river before him. The scene was breathtakingly pristine, a vision he could never have glimpsed in his former life.
Stretching ahead was a ribbon of jade-green water, roughly ten meters wide, its surface sparkling as sunlight danced across it, occasionally splashing in sudden bursts of white foam. The riverbank sloped gently, revealing soft, pale sand that blended seamlessly into the tall grasses of the forest edge. Small fish darted through the crystalline shallows in synchronized schools, unaware of the danger that might soon descend upon them.
A short distance away, the forest's edge receded slightly, forming a natural clearing—a small sandy plateau where countless animals had carved a familiar path over generations. From the forest's protective shadow, the path wound gracefully across the sand and into the shallow river.
In the river's deep cerulean waters, dark forms floated and stirred. At first glance, they resembled drifting logs, but Chen Xu's sharp eyes narrowed with alarm. If he was reading the signs correctly, these were the true rulers of this river.
"Crocodiles… and massive ones at that!" Chen Xu murmured under his breath, his mind racing. "Each one must weigh five or six hundred jin. This changes everything—fishing here will not be so simple."
Yet, as he studied them, another thought flickered through his mind. "But their hides… if tanned into armor, they could make our hunts far safer."
His eyes gleamed with calculation, tracing every ripple and shift of the waterborne predators, weighing risks and opportunities alike.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted on the wide sandy shore. Chen Xu's gaze followed the movement: zebras and forked-horned deer, drinking moments ago in cautious tranquility, were now fleeing in panic. From the forest's edge, three massive beasts emerged—long-tusked predators, muscles rippling with lethal grace.
Chen Xu inhaled sharply. "Sabertooths… damn it. They still roam this era? And… they're enormous!"
The sheer scale of the creatures was staggering; their presence evoked memories of the kings of the zoo in his former life. These sabertooths were like living elephants, their power radiating outward in waves that pressed against Chen Xu's senses.
He shook his head, banishing the irrelevant thought. Behind him, the apes stirred, their rough fur bristling in fear. Chen Xu raised a hand, signaling calm.
The apes, seeing their Fire God—their protector and deity—remain composed, slowly quieted. In that moment, blind faith and reverence took root in the hearts of these primitive hunters.
Chen Xu's eyes never left the sabertooths. Their sinews coiled beneath golden-brown fur, a terrifying display of strength and elegance. Each step they took seemed impossibly light, as if the sand barely acknowledged their presence. His heart thudded in his chest—these creatures were no ordinary prey.
Even without knowing their species, Chen Xu understood: they were absolute apex predators. For any member of his fifteen-strong tribe, a direct encounter would mean certain death. Only he, with his inner qi, mastery of the terrain, and supernatural light-footed technique, might survive. For the others, escape was inconceivable.
Observing their fluid motion, he felt a shiver run down his spine. The sabertooths moved like shadows over soft sand, leaving barely a trace—a perfect imitation of "Snow-Treading Ghost" techniques from his martial arts fantasies. He realized then that his confidence in outrunning them was misplaced; even he could not take it for granted.
The largest of the three sabertooths moved with the casual authority of a monarch, each muscular ripple flowing like molten steel under taut skin. Their weight should have sunk the sand, yet their footprints were deceptively shallow. Chen Xu's scalp tingled. The creatures were masters of controlling force, the true martial artist's art in flesh and blood.
In that instant, Chen Xu recalled a story from his old life, tales of heroes like Li Yuanba from the Sui-Tang Chronicles. Li Yuanba could lift enormous stone lions as if they were feathers, while his rival, Yuwen Chengdu, struggled to control his own might, sinking into the earth with every step. True mastery, he realized, was not just strength—it was the ability to wield it without letting it betray you.
These sabertooths embodied that principle. Massive yet impossibly light on their feet, capable of delivering lethal force with precision. If they attacked, even Chen Xu might not escape unscathed.
He swallowed hard. Based on their movement, rippling muscles, and flawless control, he concluded without doubt: these were the undisputed kings of this jungle, apex predators unmatched in their realm.
For now, however, they were merely patrolling, not hunting. With their terrifying prowess, any prey would be theirs without effort. Chen Xu's mind raced, adjusting strategies for the hunt ahead. Every observation, every calculation, every heartbeat mattered.
In the shadow of these jungle kings, the Fire God and his small tribe waited, hearts tense, knowing that in this primeval wilderness, survival required nothing less than cunning, courage, and the ability to move like wind through the trees.