Chapter 7: Escape

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Just as Arthur was about to pull the trigger, the white lion halted, then slowly backed away, turned, and disappeared back into the jungle. Its snowy figure flickered a few times and was gone.

It was like moonlight slipping through thick clouds—just when you think you’ve glimpsed its quiet beauty, it’s shrouded again, leaving you unsure if it ever truly appeared.

Tang Mi, lying quietly on the grass, suddenly screamed, her shrill cry on the verge of collapse. She was clearly terrified. Arthur put away his gun and quickly walked over to her.

Bending down, he saw her tear-streaked face, her dark, gleaming eyes reflecting only his image, as if he was her sole salvation.

“The rock card… It’s hidden in the rock. Please, don’t kill me. I don’t want to die!” she whispered, trembling.

“I heard you. Don’t be afraid; it’s all over now. You’re safe,” Arthur soothed gently. He lifted her slight body effortlessly, as though picking up a fallen leaf. Her wet black hair clung to his arm, delicate and soft, her smooth forehead resting against his chest as she wept quietly.

The tenderness of her touch made him feel as if she somehow belonged to him, yet not quite. In his confusion, he briefly let his guard down.

The sharp sting at his wrist jolted him back to clarity, and Arthur let out a low chuckle. So this was her true strength, was it?

“In our advanced technological age, old methods remain the most effective weapons—like feminine charm. Never underestimate your opponent, no matter how fragile she appears.” Arthur pulled the hairpin from his muscle, recalling something an instructor had once told him in military school. A numbing sensation spread from the wound to his limbs, but in an instant, he had gripped Tang Mi’s throat.

His fingers clenched, a mixture of roughness and tenderness—harsher than love, softer than hate.

“If I were you, struck with Maasai poison, I wouldn’t move. Intense movement only accelerates blood circulation, spreading the poison even faster.”

“You originally had an hour to live, but now it’s down to just 45 minutes,” Tang Mi said, tilting her face up with a proud smile, her gleaming eyes casting a sharp light onto his face, stinging his eyes in the darkness.

“Forty-five minutes is still enough to kill you!” Arthur retorted harshly, though his fingers slowly slipped away, and his shoulders drooped, drained of strength.

The poison had started to take effect. The Maasai secret toxin was made from black mamba venom mixed with cactus sap from the desert. Just a single drop was deadly enough to kill several strong men; it was a weapon even death feared.

Tang Mi brushed his hand aside, letting the rope slip from her wrist and fall to the ground in shredded tatters, as if it were merely a worn-out rag. One couldn’t help but wonder what kind of sharp tool could so completely destroy a sturdy climbing rope like that. She flexed her wrist, pulled the gun from his belt, and pressed it to his temple, asking, “How does it feel to have a gun pointed at you, Mr. Arthur?”

“Do you even know how to use it? Or should I teach you?” Arthur’s eyes fixed on her rose-tinted lips, as if burning holes into them, yet his expression remained one of satisfaction.

“Want to try me?” Tang Mi leaned down, her lips nearly touching his ear as she deftly released the safety. The crisp sound was like a camera shutter capturing the moment.

Arthur turned his face, his lips brushing her cold ones. He deliberately bit down, then watched with satisfaction as a flash of cold anger appeared in her eyes.

“If I were you, I’d find a car and drive through the jungle ahead. There’s a road leading to the town, your only escape route. But don’t turn on GPS—that would only help my men find you quickly,” he advised slowly and clearly, as if the Maasai poison had no effect on him at all.

Soft footsteps echoed nearby, and the grass rustled with unease, like countless silkworms chewing on leaves as they closed in on them.

Arthur looked at Tang Mi and smiled, his eyes showing that familiar, sincere friendliness. “My men have arrived. I hope you’re strong enough to hold me hostage and fight them off.”

Tang Mi pressed the gun harder against his skin, suddenly feeling an urge to pull the trigger. She despised the way he looked at her, his gentle eyes contradicting his ruthless intentions, like someone slicing your throat with a knife while telling you how beautiful life is. With a cold laugh, she pushed him away, stepped back, and said, “If I were you, I’d choose to keep quiet now. Because my people have arrived too.”

As if in sync with her words, the ground suddenly began to tremble, a thunderous sound rolling in from the distance.

Arthur’s first thought was a volcanic eruption, but when he saw the black surge rushing towards them with overwhelming force, he shouted to his nearby companions in the grass, “Scatter, run to the sides! It’s a herd of wild buffalo!”

Sharp horns cut through the night, nearly a ton of power concentrated at each glowing tip, charging forward at 50 kilometers per hour. The buffalo stampeded, driven by fierce predators on their heels. Even a moment’s hesitation would mean being torn apart.

As they fled, they transformed into the most formidable armored force on the plains, trampling anything in their path, even a real armored vehicle.

A few lionesses had cornered the buffalo herd, giving them no choice but to stampede wildly toward Arthur’s tent.

In the chaos, Arthur’s companion pulled him aside just in time to avoid the charging buffalo. At that moment, a white lioness dashed past them, her sleek muscles and pristine fur as beautiful as a fleeting illusion.

Arthur’s eyes widened in fury, glaring at the white figure. The lioness glanced back, her pale eyes calm as moonlit water, reflecting his twisted expression for an instant before becoming unreadable.

It wasn’t provocation, hostility, or disdain—just pure tranquility, an expression of absolute power, like the stillness of a frozen lake. You might think you occupy its center, but upon leaving, find that nothing remains.

Arthur had seen such a powerful gaze in only a few people before, but never in an animal.

“Tang Mi,” Arthur murmured with a smile. He savored the name like an olive, bitter at first, then slowly turning sweet after swallowing, as the bitterness lingered.

The buffalo soon dispersed, and calm returned.

A faint floral scent drifted on the breeze across the plains. A red-winged blackbird chirped its first notes, a meerkat peeked from its burrow, and a rhinoceros snorted as if the night’s rain and chaos had been only a nightmare that the land was now waking from, leaving it all behind.

A faint light broke through the horizon, marking the edge of dawn. The black faded to translucent gray, a touch of gold faintly glimmering behind the thick veil of last night’s clouds, caught between light and dark as if in a fierce struggle.

Tang Mi brushed aside branches as she swiftly and accurately stepped over twisted roots, like navigating a tangled web of drainage pipes. When the first ray of dawn finally broke through the clouds, she had already ventured deep into the forest.