Chapter Ninety: The Primal Cavern

Lu Chen rested his talons in front of the white-throated capuchin’s nose for a moment, sensing nothing—no breath, no movement. Dead, truly dead.

But it hadn’t died from the fall… The creature had scurried seven or eight meters after hitting the ground. If not for his sudden roar, it might have already scrambled up another tree and vanished. That roar—he recalled the terrified expression on its face, and realization began to dawn.

Perhaps this, too, was an application of the “ancestral bloodline” mutation.

Half a day earlier, when hunting the king dhole, Lu Chen had roared as well. The beast seemed spellbound, frozen in place, oblivious to danger, allowing him to sink his fangs in and kill it. Now, this white-throated capuchin had dropped from over ten meters, likely injuring its organs. Coupled with his close-range roar, had it quite literally been scared to death?

Lu Chen remembered a news story from his previous life: in a certain country’s wildlife reserve, a tiger’s furious roar had frightened over a dozen monkeys to death. While the event remained unverified, it at least suggested such a possibility.

Even as the capuchin’s body grew rigid, Lu Chen, wary of feigned death, extended his claws and swiftly destroyed its skull.

After finishing, he turned and entered the river.

At dawn, he sensed the faint vibrations of a propeller moving through the water. Just as he was about to surge forward, gunshots rang out. Quickly, a strong scent of blood drifted downstream.

When he arrived, the large boat was already gone. A four-meter-long saltwater crocodile lay dead, floating on the surface, its dorsal scales riddled with holes the size of eggs—clear evidence of gunfire.

Within minutes, several massive piranhas, drawn by the blood, had come, baring vicious teeth and tearing at the carcass.

After surveying the scene, Lu Chen prepared to flick his tail and follow the boat, but suddenly felt a strange disturbance. Instinctively, he turned his head to see a long, black figure gliding upon the water.

Damn it—another mutated anaconda!

It, too, must have been lured by the crocodile’s blood, hastily approaching to feed.

Lu Chen felt a jolt of fear, swiftly replaced by excitement. The sight brought to mind the hot spring valley within the Tiannan Mountain Reserve.

This jungle was anything but ordinary.

If a single anaconda mutated, it might be a fluke. More than one, though, surely meant something nearby was causing these transformations.

Could it be the blood serpent orchid? Almost instinctively, Lu Chen thought of the humans’ objective for this expedition. With the word “serpent” in its name, the connection was hard to ignore.

If so, he must not kill this anaconda.

Lu Chen made up his mind in an instant: he would give the creature a savage beating, then let it go, quietly following in hopes of finding its lair.

As for the large boat, Lu Chen abandoned it without hesitation. With a better option, there was no need to clash with humans.

The river burst with sound—waves as large as millstones churned and crashed, and in their midst, a dark mass rose and fell, as if some monstrous creatures were locked in combat.

Moments later, an anaconda, its body bloodied, raced ashore and fled into the deep jungle.

Lu Chen paddled after it, neither hurried nor slow. The lingering scent of blood in the air was a perfect guide—he would not lose its trail.

He could not tell how far he had followed before the creature suddenly vanished among distant vines.

Gone?

Lu Chen sped forward and sniffed. He soon discovered the anaconda had not disappeared, but had slipped into a hidden cave in the mountainside. The entrance was masked by dense vines and shrubs, nearly completely concealed.

From just two or three meters away, he had nearly missed it.

He turned and peered into the cave. Inside, darkness reigned, and the dangling roots blocked the view—beyond, nothing could be seen. But the air was thick with a damp, fetid stench, suggesting poor ventilation within.

Could this be the anaconda’s lair? For a moment, Lu Chen hesitated.

With his strength, he could easily handle a lone mutated anaconda; but a gathering of them would be another matter entirely.

After a brief deliberation, he decided to investigate.

After all, such an opportunity was rare.

Using his claws, he cleared away the tangled vines and roots at the entrance, then crept inside with caution.

The entryway was barely taller than a person, nearly two meters wide, almost entirely blocked by roots and tendrils, making passage difficult. Crawling forward, the cave soon opened up dramatically, revealing a cavern of over a thousand square meters.

It was empty, save for a single massive stone standing stark in the center.

On the surrounding walls, strange bas-reliefs were carved.

Approaching to examine them, Lu Chen found the reliefs covered with a thick layer of moss, obscuring their original appearance. They must have been etched by the indigenous Madura people.

Judging by the traces around him, the cave had been abandoned for a long time.

To this day, it was likely undiscovered by modern humans. Within the cavern, he saw nothing that belonged to modern civilization.

Lu Chen stopped searching for the anaconda and became interested in the carvings instead.

He leapt up, his hind legs raising his body, sturdy tail providing support as he stood firmly upright.

He then swept his foreclaws over the stone wall, scraping away the moss.

As the moss was cleared, the relief gradually revealed its true form.

It depicted a thick, mighty serpent, its body coiled, head raised high, jaws agape, displaying fierce, jagged fangs.

The vertical pupils radiated a chilling, menacing aura, as if the serpent might spring to life from the stone at any moment.

Not far ahead of the serpent, a sinister red flower bloomed.

It seemed his suspicions were correct—the blood serpent orchid was indeed connected to the mutated anacondas.

So this truly was their lair?

He then scraped clean a second relief. This, too, featured an anaconda, coiling around a Bengal tiger, as if intent on swallowing it whole.

It was a primitive form of ancestral worship. After a cursory glance, Lu Chen understood.

Yet doubts arose in his mind: from the content of these murals, the mutated anacondas had existed for decades, centuries, or perhaps longer.

Why, then, had modern humans never recorded them?

It did not add up.

Time would tell; he had plenty of opportunity to unravel the mystery. For now, his priority was to locate the wounded anaconda.

Lu Chen explored the cavern’s perimeter, discovering a passage leading deeper into the darkness below.

The scent of blood left by the anaconda faded into this passage.

Carefully, Lu Chen stepped inside, noticing faint points of phosphorescence on the stone walls. The light was weak, but it illuminated his way.

Advancing forty or fifty meters, water pooled increasingly on the ground.

Suddenly, a vast grotto opened before him.

Phosphorescent minerals dotted the cave walls, allowing Lu Chen to see his surroundings.

Strange stalactites hung from the ceiling, stone spires rose and fell across the floor, many joining to form massive columns.

Nearby, a hidden river flowed gently.

Standing within, Lu Chen felt as if he had stepped into a bewildering, mythic world.