Live Streaming: Great Adventure in the Wilderness

"Where's Ved? Why hasn't he come back yet? Does anyone know where he went?"

On a modified off-road vehicle sat several burly men, each towering over six feet with shoulders spanning more than fifty centimeters. The cramped space was filled with the strong acidic smell of sweat.

A cursory glance revealed that each of the brawny men had knives at their waists—M9s with gray titanium blades and double-sided blood grooves, menacingly sharp. There were also Ontario Sabres, Tridents, Master Trackers...

The gear wasn't uniform, ranging from machetes to bayonets to tactical knives, but they were all standard-issue weapons in service. Protruding from the black backpacks at their feet were the dark barrels of guns.

They were undeniably a gang of ruffians, but the casual sitting postures of each man made the atmosphere in the room a bit more relaxed.

The mission was complete, and they would soon be leaving the barren wilderness devoid of any entertainment. Everyone seemed happy.

When Sisko—the only member with a normal physique—stood up to ask about the whereabouts of one of their own, the responses he got weren't exactly serious.

"No idea."

"Saw him this morning."

"What if someone drugged him and harvested his seed? He's so buff, I bet those crazy women wouldn't let him go."

"Hahaha, that would be hilarious. If that really happened, I'd love to see the look on his face."

A younger, somewhat naïve new member prodded the talkative companion, asking, "What do you mean? Is this some new joke I'm not aware of?"

"Ha, almost forgot, Zhuomuke, this your first time in Africa?" Guvas, with an Ontario Sabre at his waist, asked rhetorically. He clearly didn't wait for a response and began, speaking in a low tone usually reserved for ghost stories, "In 21st-century Africa, when night falls, it's a fiesta for the predators. And the men living on this land carry the fear of being preyed upon."

Guvas paused, looked around, and saw that no one was taken in by his story—the newcomers were no exception. He felt bored and reverted to his usual monotone.

"Somali men worry whether they'll be shelled at sea tomorrow; Rwandan men keep an eye out for Hutu machetes swinging around street corners; Congolese brutes must cover their ears to avoid the whistling bullets."

"As for Kenya, you better watch out for the JZ Harvesting Group. Those women intercept 'superior genes' right in the street, lure them to secluded spots, and it wouldn't matter if they were pretty, but they're all wrinkly old women. They drug them, coerce them, and then...you know."

At the mention of wrinkled old black faces, Zhuomuke shuddered, "What do they want with that stuff?"

Guvas shrugged, "Money, of course. Beauty treatments, or whatever else—who knows?"

Zhuomuke turned to Chaman, "Chaman, is that true?"

As a "local," Chaman certainly had the authority to speak. He nodded, "I've never encountered it myself, but I've seen it on the news a few times. I've also heard from elders that some tribes along the Zambezi River would collect such things to present to the respected female chieftains."

Grace let out a strange howl, "Those women wouldn't dare target Ved. He's the strongest among us, a giant over two meters tall, his thighs thicker than their fat waists!"

"Guvas, I reckon it's not the crazy women but you who's got eyes for Ved. Who doesn't know that time we went Swimming, Guvas couldn't take his eyes off Ved, drooling all over."

"To hell with that, I swear I'll stuff your head into my farm's cow's dead reproductive organs!"

The men sat close together, trading rowdy and crude jokes.

Sisko scratched his eyebrow and raised his right hand, firing a shot outside the vehicle. The loud explosion combined with the flash of the gun managed to shut up the noisy crew inside.

"I'm serious, because of a lion, he's been out there for almost five days now."

"I know about that." Zhuomuke raised his hand, always a bit scared of the man who, despite his unimposing stature, was as accurate with a gun as if by magic, "That dentist's archery skills are garbage. Ved had everything ready in three days, using an elephant carcass as bait. But the dentist screwed up."

Someone snorted in disdain, "The less accomplished people are, the more they like to do this sort of thing."

"But they got it yesterday, they've been waiting for the lion to die. Ved said the client likes to watch the lion slowly pass away, so I guess he's still with the client waiting for the lion to die. But I don't know where he is right now; Ved always says very little."

"It sounds just like my granny's foot-rag, stinky and long,"

"Only three hundred thousand, wouldn't be worth taking if it weren't for the target."

"We're elites, get it? We should be spending our time on more valuable things, like those Middle Eastern tycoons, they're not only handsome but also very generous, mainly generous."

Sisko fell silent for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Although their squad was strong, an overly long stay on the savannah was still a cause for concern.

The longer the time, the more slips they'd make, and the higher the chance of being wanted, which meant even retirement wouldn't spare them from a heap of trouble.

"Ah," Sisko sighed deeply, "then we wait some more."

"Hey, look, there's a signal here."

Guvas held up his phone high, as if that would somehow improve reception of the invisible electromagnetic waves.

"No way, there's actually a signal."

"Hold on, Captain, I think I know where Sisko is."

It wasn't Grace, the livestream enthusiast, speaking but Guvas who had first discovered the signal.

In fact, due to being busy with the mission, Grace had not been online for entertainment in several days.

And the headline composed of key words like Kenya, poacher, and Cecil the lion had already dominated the top news spots on major portals from last night until now.

Guvas had just opened the social media app and immediately spotted the headline, a sinking feeling in his gut.

Likewise, the viewers in front of the screen felt a sinking sensation.

There were three of them approaching: two white, one black, and among them one was terrifyingly huge.

Using the reflection on the surface of his dagger, Bi Fang managed to catch a glimpse of the newcomers; just from eyeballing, he could tell one was a towering figure over two meters tall.

As three-dimensional beings, humans who differ by ten centimeters in height will be significantly larger overall, if they grow proportionally.

And this guy was nearly twenty centimeters taller than Bi Fang!

They were utterly on different physical levels!

The viewers didn't have Bi Fang's sharp judgment but with the livestream camera hidden in the branches, they could see everything much clearer and more directly.

In their minds, this was like two different species entirely.

Do poachers really come in such a conspicuously large size?

No one could answer that question.

But for Bi Fang, he didn't need to know so much.

He only knew one thing.

He could fight!

Through the dense jungle, a figure burst forth like a tiger or leopard, and with it came a swiftly flying short spear!