The Evolutionary Path of the Lion

Chapter 104 Coordinate System

The dry season came earlier than usual.

Chen Fei lay on the edge of a dry, cracked red soil slope, resting his chin on his front paws, squinting as he surveyed what lay ahead.

The grasslands are turning yellow at a rate visible to the naked eye.

Patches of grass stems faded from the roots, like a face that had been drained of water, with cheekbones and eye sockets protruding overnight.

Water sources are shrinking.

This is the first signal.

The wildebeest herd has not yet started its large-scale migration, but Chen Fei has noticed that their daily foraging routes are quietly shifting westward, little by little. Today they shift by half a body length, tomorrow by a body length, and the day after tomorrow the entire route has shifted thirty meters westward.

This deviation means nothing to other predators.

In Chen Fei's eyes, this was a line graph.

In his previous life, he had spent nearly twenty years online, his mind filled with all sorts of wildlife documentaries, migration route analyses, and the impact of climate change on grassland ecosystems. He knew that wildebeest would instinctively head west in search of remaining water sources at the beginning of the dry season, and there was a seasonal riverbed three kilometers to the west, which should have shrunk into a muddy thin line by now, but for the wildebeest, it was still the last magnet.

They will inevitably pass through that road.

More precisely, they will pass through a specific spot on that road, where the angle between the bushes on both sides is the narrowest, about fifteen meters wide, with dense thorns on the left and a natural earthen slope on the right, where wildebeest have no room to escape to the side.

Chen Fei mentally reviewed the terrain.

perfect.

[Host: Chen Fei]

[Identity: Sub-adult male lion]

[Energy Points: 1068↑]

He stood up, stretched his back, and shouted behind him.

Big Head burst out of the haystack three meters away.

It was clearly asleep.

Before its four legs were fully extended, it stumbled and rushed to Chen Fei's side, with a clump of dry grass on its head, its eyes unfocused, and its mouth open, like a middle school student being dragged out of bed.

Chen Fei glanced at it.

Big Head realized the atmosphere was off, so he immediately shut his mouth and tried to look energetic.

The effect is approximately zero.

Chen Fei ignored it, turned his head to check the direction of Sail, who was patrolling the east side with Meimei and Stray Armor, about four hundred meters away. He swept his tail on the ground, signaling Big Head to follow, and then strode towards the bush-lined path on the west side.

Big Head followed closely, but after walking less than twenty steps, he was attracted by a beetle by the roadside. He lowered his head and nudged it, but Chen Fei glared at him as he turned around. Only then did he reluctantly catch up.

By the time we reached that alley, the sun was already setting in the west.

The light cut diagonally down from the top of the earthen slope on the right, dividing the entire passage into two halves of light and shadow. Chen Fei lay down on the dark side, his nose close to the ground, carefully discerning the layers of scent.

Wildebeest hoofprints. New.

It was left behind yesterday evening.

He lifted his nose and checked again.

It was a small group, about seven or eight heads, probing the route.

Tomorrow, or the day after, they will pass through here with an even larger group.

Chen Fei found a low-lying spot with a wide view on the left side of the passage, lay down, and looked to the right at the earthen slope. There were two mimosa trees at the top of the slope, their canopies overlapping, completely blocking the space behind the slope when viewed from the front.

He turned to look at Big Head and pointed with his chin to the top of the slope.

Big Head tilted his head.

Chen Fei pointed again.

Big Head understood a little this time. It looked up at the acacia tree and then at Chen Fei with a questioning expression: You want me to climb up there?

Chen Fei flicked his tail.

Big Head started climbing up the slope.

It stumbled and staggered as it climbed, its claws scratching at the loose pebbles several times. Its body veered to the side, nearly tumbling down, but it eventually managed to climb to the top of the slope, disappearing behind the canopy of the mimosa tree.

Chen Fei lay down firmly in the low-lying area, closed his eyes, and began to wait.

Waiting is one of the things he excels at.

His years as a keyboard warrior in his previous life taught him one thing: most battles are over before they even begin.

The white tents at the campsite swayed slightly in the midday heat, as if they were breathing.

Ella placed the fourth sample bag on the folding table and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

Inside the tent were five folding tables, each covered with evidence bags, photo prints, and measurement records. Kenneth sat behind the innermost table, elbows propped on the surface, examining a photograph with a magnifying glass.

That photo was taken three weeks ago.

The engraving process.

"Two to three millimeters deep," Kenneth said without looking up. "The edges are clean, not from stone or twigs. Look here." He pushed the magnifying glass over and pointed to the upper left corner of the photo with the tip of his pen. "The vertical stroke of the letter R, drawn in one continuous stroke without hesitation, with even pressure—that's right-handed writing."

Ella took the magnifying glass and glanced at it.

"Or it could be a tool," she said.

"What tool?" Kenneth put down his pen. "On the African savanna, what tool could carve such an edge into hard soil?"

"A knife. A folding knife, a survival knife, any single-edged tool can do it."

"Could it be that some poachers have come again?"

Ella paused for a second. "That's possible," she said.

Kale leaned against the tent frame, legs crossed, holding a transparent bag full of soil in his hand, and remained silent.

He then placed the bag on the table and said, "The depth and width of the indentation have been modeled, Kenneth. Take a look at the data yourself."

He pushed over a handwritten sheet of data. "The point of force is very concentrated, and the contact area is about the size of an adult's thumb tip, but the shape is curved, not flat. If a person were to carve with a knife, the contact surface would be the blade, a line, not a curved surface."

The tent fell silent for a moment.

Kenneth took the data sheet and looked at it for about ten seconds.

"Curved contact surface," he repeated.

"right."

"You mean claws?"

"I have no conclusions," Caler said calmly. "I only have data."

Kenneth put down the data sheet, picked up the magnifying glass again, and looked at the photograph once more. A breeze blew in from outside the tent, lifting a corner of the photograph on the table; he pressed it down with his hand without saying a word.

Ella began, "The character spacing is regular, the capitalization is correct, and the number format conforms to standard coordinate recording conventions. Regardless of the contact surface, this individual understands the rules for writing English characters."

"Our people?" Ella's voice was soft.

Kenneth looked up at her.

"Coordinate format," Ella pushed another photo over, "REF 7742. This is the grid coordinate system we use internally; it's not a public standard. Only those who participated in this project know this format."