Chapter Twenty-Nine: Hunting the Predatory Thieves

After comforting himself, Lu Chen carefully returned to the bank and restored the damaged trap.

Yet deep down, another layer of worry lingered in his heart: after snatching food twice in a row, the clouded leopard was likely developing a habit, and might start appearing more and more often.

If that happened, there would be real trouble.

Ultimately, he needed to strengthen himself as soon as possible.

Otherwise, similar humiliations would keep happening.

Lu Chen’s fears soon became reality… The very next day, not long after he’d reset the traps, the clouded leopard appeared again.

Damn it, does it really think my place is a free kitchen?

This time, Lu Chen was thoroughly enraged.

Yesterday, he’d been planning to emulate Xiao Yan’s patience, but now he changed his mind completely, deciding to channel Old Demon Han instead.

If I can’t beat you with strength, then I’ll outwit you!

What he lacked in power, he would make up for in cunning.

When facing formidable foes, Lu Chen preferred to rely on human ingenuity rather than brute force. It was this very trait that had allowed him to kill the giant black carp before.

As for how to proceed, it still came down to traps.

It was a pity there were no sticky nets here—otherwise, things would be much simpler.

Nevertheless, Lu Chen quickly devised a new plan.

While exploring the riverbanks, he’d discovered a thicket of wild mulberry trees at a bend.

Mulberry wood was hard and sturdy—a good material for furniture. The branches were flexible and tough, perfect for weaving baskets; the bark could be used for papermaking; the leaves could feed silkworms. The tree bore fruit—mulberries—red-purple, edible, good for wine, and even medicinal.

In short, every part of the mulberry was valuable.

What Lu Chen needed now were the branches.

Using his sharp teeth, he soon gathered a generous bundle of mulberry twigs and hauled them to the pond.

Then he began stripping the bark.

Such delicate work would be nearly impossible for the crocodile elders, but for Lu Chen, it was no challenge.

Mulberry trees had a unique feature: a slick, sweet-tasting sap between the bark and the wood. Thanks to this, the bark peeled away easily.

Lu Chen used stones to thump along the surface of the branches, producing a pile of loose bark. It was a clumsy process, but he managed.

Next, he set about tying the strips together to make lengths two or three meters long. Twisting these together, he could make a sturdy cord of mulberry bark.

In his mind’s eye, weaving a rope seemed simple enough—just like this, and this, and then that…

But reality was less forgiving. It turned out to be a classic case of “the mind understands, but the hands cannot.”

For many people, twisting rope is a real skill. And with the natural clumsiness of a saltwater croc’s toes and claws—even after days of diligent practice—Lu Chen simply couldn’t achieve the dexterity of a primate.

After several hours of hard work, he was forced to give up. It just wasn’t possible!

According to his original plan, once he had enough mulberry bark rope, he’d fashion some bamboo into crude arrows and assemble a spring-bow trap.

A spring-bow looked much like a traditional bow, but instead of shooting arrows over a distance, it used the force of the twisted bowstring to launch a short-range strike at the prey.

The main components were the bow arms and the string, storing up energy for the shot. The tighter the string, the greater the rebound force when triggered.

The ideal bowstring would be steel wire, but he had none—mulberry bark rope would have to do. The peeled branches could serve as the limbs.

The spring-bows would be arranged around the pond trap, all joined by a single cord in a large ring. As soon as the clouded leopard triggered the line, every bowstring would snap, flipping bamboo arrowheads downward.

Lu Chen had learned this trap as a child from his grandfather; rural hunters once used it to catch wild hares or pheasants.

But by the time he’d mastered the technique, even geckos and frogs had become protected species, let alone pheasants and hares, so he’d never had the chance to use it.

He’d hoped it would serve him well in this world, but alas, he’d overestimated his own abilities. With these crocodilian claws, such fine work was impossible.

After half a day of effort, staring at the pile of mulberry bark on the ground, Lu Chen could only abandon his plan with a heavy heart. He had no choice but to reconsider and settle for the simplest solution: a deep pit trap, which was much less likely to fail.

But this approach had its own drawback—it had to be set on a path the clouded leopard was certain to use.

If the creature detoured, all his work would come to nothing.

So his first step had to be choosing the right location.

This, once you knew the trick, wasn’t so difficult.

Wild animals, like humans, preferred to travel along flat, unobstructed paths. Not only did this make movement easier, but most importantly, it kept their sightlines clear so they could spot predators in advance.

That was why, in the past, when Lu Chen’s grandfather set spring-bow traps, he’d always choose mountain trails, blocking every other way with branches so the prey would have to walk the intended route.

Once the spot was chosen, Lu Chen led the three young saltwater crocs to start digging.

The riverside soil was loose and silty, making the work easy. Within an hour, they’d dug a pit over half a meter deep. By dusk, a square pit two meters on each side was nearly complete.

Next, Lu Chen fetched several round bamboo poles, split them with stones into half-meter strips as thick as a finger, and sharpened one end to a point like a javelin.

He planted these bamboo stakes upright in the bottom of the pit, then scrambled up the framework of mulberry branches he’d built.

Clutching the branches in his jaws, he climbed out, then laid the twenty-odd strips of mulberry bark he’d prepared across the surface to form a crisscrossed mesh. Finally, he layered bamboo twigs and leaves on top. The deep pit trap was finished.

Lu Chen didn’t expect such a simple pit to kill the clouded leopard. The beast’s leaping and climbing skills were formidable; a two-meter drop wouldn’t hold it.

His plan was for the leopard to fall in and be injured by the stakes below. Even if it managed to escape, its fighting power would be much reduced.

He’d then launch a second attack—rushing in to go for a death roll at its hind legs.

If he could just pull off those two moves, even if the leopard still managed to flee, he could use his speed advantage to kite it, wearing it down until it died.

The plan was sound—so long as the leopard played along.

***

The weather was fine again. Early in the morning, Lu Chen set out a lavish feast by the riverbank, then retreated with the young crocs to the center of the stream.

He was not disappointed; the clouded leopard arrived right on schedule.

Eyeing the plump fish in the pond, its nose twitched in excitement, its bestial eyes alight with glee. These past few days had been the easiest of its life—no need to hunt, just show up and snatch the reptiles’ food.

The leopard’s powerful limbs tensed, preparing to leap down from the great banyan as usual.

Suddenly, it stopped.

(A reader left a review saying the spring-bow trap was too complex for a saltwater croc at this stage, so I’ve revised it.)