Chapter Forty-Three: The Wild Boar Hunt Triumphs

After returning to the river, Lu Chen continued upstream. After swimming several hundred meters farther, he came upon a branching tributary, only five or six meters wide, with a somewhat swift current. Changing direction, he soon heard a chorus of grunting noises ahead.

A herd of wild boars… He easily distinguished what kind of animals they were.

In Lu Chen’s eyes, these creatures were among the easiest terrestrial prey to hunt. Wild boars tended to linger near water, often wading in to urinate and wallow, coating themselves in mud and urine like a thick suit of armor. This served both to cool them down and drive off the insects clinging to their bodies.

As a result, wild boars were perpetually filthy, their reek drifting hundreds of meters away—a pungent, fishy stench.

Lu Chen always harbored the desire to hunt wild boar, yet so far, every attempt at a stealthy ambush had ended in failure.

The problem was their extreme wariness; even the slightest disturbance in their surroundings would alert them. Like many herbivores, the herd always had a sentinel on watch while the others played or foraged. The moment a predator approached, the lookout would sound an alarm, warning the others.

Moreover, these animals didn’t scatter in panic when threatened. Instead, they quickly closed ranks around the largest boar, their king, while the rest formed a defensive perimeter to fend off attackers.

Given Lu Chen’s slight build, there was no way he could take on a massive boar weighing several hundred pounds.

So, when faced with such odds, he had no choice but to give up.

Of course, if he used the death roll, he might injure his prey.

But there was no need for that. Ineffective hunting not only wasted energy but brought no reward—and could even be fatal.

A wild boar weighing over 200 kilos could charge with the force of a speeding car. In the wild, there were even records of these beasts killing Siberian tigers. Though the victims were usually the sick or frail, it was still a testament to the wild boar’s formidable power.

Today, however, Lu Chen planned to try once more.

He sensed through the vibrations in the water that the herd ahead was small. From the sounds, there seemed to be many piglets among them.

Having made up his mind, Lu Chen quietly slipped most of his body underwater, exposing only the top of his head as he crept along the bank’s dense reeds.

Rounding a patch of tall grass, the scene on the shore came fully into view through his beast-like eyes.

As he’d guessed, it was a family group: one male, one female, and seven or eight piglets.

The two adults stood guard on either side while the piglets rolled and played in the shallow water nearby.

Learning from his earlier failures, Lu Chen did not rush to attack. Instead, he slipped back beneath the surface, his eyes fixed on the piglets rooting in the mud, waiting patiently behind the cover of the reeds.

The entire process was silent—not a sound escaped.

Wild boars have an extraordinary sense of smell—their snouts end in a sensitive disk, their olfactory region vast and packed with nerves. Their sense of smell is even more acute than the saltwater crocodile’s. They can sniff out the ripeness of food, or find morsels buried two meters deep beneath snow.

It was this very trait that led a European country, in Lu Chen’s former world, to train wild boars to search for truffles underground.

His past hunting failures had been, in part, because he was detected too soon.

This time, he deliberately lay downstream, his whole body submerged, only his eyes above water, hoping to mask his scent as much as possible.

His patience paid off. Concealed by the reeds, the two adult boars did not notice the dark, log-like mass beneath the water nearby.

Compared to the scarred, battle-hardened adults, the piglets were bolder and more curious, easily straying from the safety of their parents.

Before long, one adventurous piglet ignored all warnings, edging closer to the stand of reeds where Lu Chen lay in wait.

Those tender plant roots were a delicious treat.

Suddenly, a great splash erupted from the reeds—a huge, black shape surged out, lunging at the piglet barely two meters away.

In an instant, sharp teeth sank into the piglet’s neck.

A terrified, high-pitched squeal split the air as the piglet struggled desperately to escape.

But it was too late.

The moment he secured his grip, Lu Chen unleashed a death roll, then dragged the ten-kilogram piglet into deeper water.

“Eek! Eek!” The two adult boars finally reacted, charging over with furious bellows.

Lu Chen knew well how dangerous an enraged adult boar could be, so he didn’t cling stubbornly to his prey. With one successful strike, he released his hold, retreating swiftly through the water and vanishing into the dense rushes within seconds.

The male boar rushed to the struggling piglet, grunting anxiously, trying to nudge its young to safety with its snout.

But it was futile. Blood bubbled to the surface, quickly staining the water red.

Lu Chen’s attack had torn away a large chunk of flesh, severing the jugular artery along with it.

The piglet struggled briefly, then fell still.

The male boar howled in anguish—there was even a trace of sorrow in its eyes—but he could only watch helplessly as his offspring was swept away by the current.

Lu Chen slipped after his prey, dragging it to the opposite shore.

It was his first successful wild boar hunt. Though just a piglet, it was cause for celebration.

***

Deep in the forest, several hundred meters away, a team of humans was making their way forward.

At the head of the group, a search dog kept its nose to the ground, sniffing for scents. Suddenly, it let out a low whimper toward its handler.

“Old Li, something’s up,” one person said at the warning.

“Send the drone up—let’s hope it’s not another wild animal,” his companion replied.

On command, a drone was quickly launched, buzzing upward to a height of several dozen meters.

In half a minute, the control screen displayed a live feed: a patch of water stained crimson, a large wild boar shrieking nearby.

“It’s a wild boar herd—something’s hunting them…” the drone operator reported. “Should we keep investigating?”

“Call it back,” the team leader replied, frustrated.

Seeing it was just a predator hunting, there was no point in further investigation.

From footage taken before the rain, their target should have been hiding somewhere in this area. They’d spent two days searching the mountains, yet found no trace.

The team leader suspected their target had already escaped elsewhere.

A drone?!

Lu Chen had just hauled his prey ashore when he heard the hum overhead. Instinctively, he looked up to see a drone gliding by, thirty meters above, before veering off into the distance.

His scales matched the color of the bank’s mud, and with the reeds for cover, he was confident he hadn’t been spotted.

Police drone? Though he’d only glimpsed it for a few seconds, Lu Chen recognized the markings beneath the drone.

Other humans had entered the mountains—most likely in pursuit of those two targets from before.

Lu Chen immediately recalled what he’d seen that morning.

He’d intended to ignore it, but now, a new plan was forming in his mind.