Chapter Sixteen: The Hunters Among Men

“Dog barking—why is there dog barking here?” Hearing the approaching sound, Lu Chen felt a flicker of confusion.

By all rights, these creatures should be scavenging for food in the city’s garbage heaps—what business did they have out here in the reeds?

Soon after, human voices drifted over. Training hunting dogs, hunting, catching wild rabbits… So that’s what it was.

After eavesdropping on their conversation, Lu Chen understood the whole situation. These people must have heard rumors that wild rabbits could be found near Willow Lake, so they’d sneaked in with their hunting dogs to poach illegally.

There were indeed wild rabbits in the reed marshes, though not many—a legacy, perhaps, of that old king rat snake. Lu Chen had only encountered them twice, and before he could get close, they would vanish in a flash, bounding away into the depths of the grass.

These humans would likely leave empty-handed. However, the mallard duck bait he’d placed in the drainage ditch might well be discovered. There was nothing he could do about that, but he didn’t mind—after all, it was only a duck; he could always catch another.

Unless absolutely necessary, he would not provoke a conflict with humans. As for the other traps he’d set up along the water’s edge, he wasn’t afraid of them being found. Anyone who stumbled across those clumps of aquatic plants would only assume they were the handiwork of other people, not animals.

Lu Chen had thought these people had little to do with him, but he hadn’t counted on the dog—the barking grew closer and closer, until it sounded right outside his burrow.

Damn, he’d overlooked the hunting dog. Its nose was just as keen; with the saltwater crocodile cubs constantly coming and going from the entrance, their scent was bound to linger.

“Hey, there’s a hole here—isn’t this a rabbit burrow? Look, there are fresh scratch marks too!” a young man called out excitedly.

“Nonsense! Native Chinese wild rabbits don’t dig burrows; only domestic rabbits do that,” another voice replied.

This fellow peered into the entrance, then continued, “If I’m not mistaken, this is a hog badger’s den. Even if we don’t catch any rabbits, bagging a few hog badgers isn’t bad. Braised, they’re delicious.”

The hog badger, also known as the sand badger or mountain badger, is a close relative of the African honey badger. With a stocky body and short limbs, its snout resembles a pig’s, hence the name.

Lu Chen was speechless—what kind of eyesight did these people have, mistaking a saltwater crocodile’s lair for a badger’s den?

On second thought, it was understandable. Who would ever imagine a saltwater crocodile had dug a burrow here?

Wait… were these people about to destroy the burrow?

If they truly intended to, Lu Chen wouldn’t hesitate to teach them a lesson. With the strength of four young crocodiles, a sudden ambush could inflict several deadly death rolls and tear chunks of flesh from their victims, very likely causing them to bleed to death.

Of course, he neither wished nor dared to go that far.

In this world, Lu Chen wasn’t sure, but in his past life there was an unspoken rule in every country: any animal that ate a human had to be killed.

Life was never equal.

From a human perspective, once a wild animal had tasted human flesh, it became exceedingly dangerous—humans would henceforth be seen as easy prey. Where there was a first time, there would surely be a second, and many more after that.

If not dealt with swiftly, the consequences could be dire.

In truth, most attacks by fierce beasts stemmed from human stupidity and recklessness. Lacking all sense of awe, people would dare to trespass into the territories of predators.

In essence, the animals were blameless.

But whatever the reason, the moment a beast ate a human, it was “innocent” no longer. Its fate would be sealed: hunted down and killed.

So Lu Chen had long resolved that, unless forced to the utmost, he would never come into violent conflict with humans.

He also had to consider the hunting dog—its keen sense of smell might foil any ambush.

Still, that didn’t mean Lu Chen was utterly powerless against the humans… As his thoughts raced, he formed a plan.

“Liu Yang, we can’t dig—the entrance is blocked by a huge slab of rock, no way to move it. And in this heat, I’m not doing manual labor! Why not start a fire and smoke them out? I just looked up the method online—smoke will definitely drive them out!”

“Use your head,” his companion shot back. “This is a public park. If someone sees smoke, they’ll call the fire department for sure.”

They were already poaching illegally—if they were caught and charged with arson as well, that would be even worse.

“So what do you suggest?”

“Luckily, I brought a little something. I was thinking of using it for fishing at Willow Lake, actually.” As he spoke, the young man pulled a few colorful tubes from his pocket.

“Thundercrack fireworks! You sly dog—those’ll scare the badgers out for sure. I read online they always have a back entrance…”

Lu Chen hadn’t expected these young men to be so malicious—they actually planned to throw fireworks into the burrow.

The name alone suggested the commotion would be anything but small. He could tolerate it, but the other crocodile cubs, facing it for the first time, might be terrified out of their wits. With their sensitive hearing, the blasts could even cause internal bleeding.

He couldn’t stay in the burrow any longer. Without hesitation, Lu Chen barked a warning to his companions and took the lead, scuttling down into the depths.

He was profoundly grateful that he’d left an escape tunnel when digging the lair—never had he thought he would need it so soon.

The cubs didn’t understand what was happening, but when the leader gave an order, they always obeyed. They had barely crawled a dozen meters when the sound of sizzling fuses came from behind.

With a muffled boom, the ground trembled slightly.

“Damn, that was powerful!” the young men laughed.

Slipping through a long waterway, Lu Chen reached the exit. Pushing aside a heavy rock with his claws, daylight flooded in.

One after another, they swam out of the tunnel.

From not far off in the reeds, the rumbling of explosions could still be heard.

Damn it, enough was enough! Did they think he was a paper tiger, to be bullied at will?

Lu Chen was truly furious.

If he let these humans have their way, the burrow he’d toiled over for more than a month would be ruined.

Since they were so bent on provoking him, he would show them the consequences of angering an intelligent saltwater crocodile.

He instructed his three companions to remain in the water while he crept ashore, silent as a shadow.

Circling around in a wide arc, he emerged among the grass thirty meters from the burrow, wary of the hunting dog’s speed.

He let out a series of deep growls.

Sure enough, the hunting dog, hearing movement in the distance, barked and darted off in swift pursuit.

“There’s movement—quick, after it! The badger’s escaping!” the humans shouted, scrambling after the dog, leaving one behind to stand guard at the burrow.

The moment the dog gave chase, Lu Chen had already stretched out on all fours, sprinting full tilt toward the shrubbery.

Ten meters, twenty meters… but after scarcely thirty meters, he felt heat surging through his body, his temperature rising alarmingly.

This was the limit.

Though he could run fast on land, Lu Chen couldn’t keep it up for long. Especially in such sweltering weather, exertion would overload his respiratory and circulatory systems.

Crocodiles lack sweat glands and can only release heat through their mouths.

As a result, the heat generated during a sprint could not be shed quickly, and the direct result was exhaustion.

If he kept running, it might even threaten his life.