Now I finally understand why Top disliked this thing so much.

If the smell of the previous raw fat was tolerable, this thing in front of me was like compressing ten times the smell into the oil residue.

Although it doesn't smell very gamey on the surface, the moment you bite into it, a biochemical experience ten times stronger than usual explodes in your mouth. That refreshing gamey smell makes me want to vomit my bile.

"Damn it! Is it really that fishy and gamey?" I couldn't help but spit out.

Scoop out and throw away those damn oil residues. I dipped a little oil on the edge of the pot and tried it in my mouth. It was acceptable, even milder than the taste of fat.

It seems that the gamey smell has been completely absorbed and sealed inside by the oil residue. This has taught me a lesson and introduced me to new knowledge.

I sliced ​​a large amount of fresh meat on the tree, and poured all of it, more than ten kilograms, into the pot to stir-fry.

The fire crackled and popped under the pot, and the rich aroma of meat quickly wafted out.

The slightly gamey oil, when used to stir-fry the meat, unexpectedly produced a unique flavor, somewhat reminiscent of the aroma of butter in barbecue.

Top also came over at this moment; the smell had really disgusted the poor monkey.

If it weren't for his unwavering trust in me, knowing I didn't do it on purpose, Top would have definitely given me a good beating.

I'll try to fry the meat until it's quite dry, so that even if we can't finish it, we can have some to eat and replenish our energy on the way back tomorrow.

There's a lot of meat today, and it will take quite a while to process it. Although it's still morning, going back is impossible; we'll have to wait until tomorrow to set off again.

I added some fine salt to the meat, stir-fried it again, and then put it all into Top's cleaned little basket.

After cleaning the pot, I continued processing the brains and spinal cord.

The brains were already processed, and the spinal cord was usable since there was no blood membrane. There weren't many fancy processing methods; I simply boiled water until it was just about to boil, then threw them all in.

Then I cut off a piece of liver, sliced ​​it, and put it in the pot. I broke a section of leg bone that had been gutted, used a twig to poke out all the marrow, and put it in the pot to cook together.

Before long, the soup turned an outrageously white color. Eating such nourishing ingredients together would probably make even the roosters wake up earlier tomorrow.

Top and I sat on a tree branch, showing off our milky white broth that was several times richer than milk, while grabbing handfuls of stir-fried meat with a faint buttery aroma and stuffing it into our mouths.

There's only one word to describe this moment: awesome!

After a period of intense work, Top and I now find that the food we eat tastes much better than before.

The body's craving for food can indeed bring a surge of happiness after it is obtained.

When I had almost finished eating, some predators, drawn by the aroma, began to arrive from under the tree. At first, they were just small carnivores, but the ones that followed grew larger and larger.

Finally, a large, ferocious beast with a body length exceeding three meters and a shoulder height of one and a half meters, and brownish-yellow fur, leaped out.

The moment this creature appeared, all the carnivores were frightened away, and it possessed the remains of the great antelope with absolute dominance.

Seeing this, my understanding was broadened once again. It seems there are quite a few monsters here. I thought those sand beasts were already large enough individually, but I didn't expect there to be even larger beings here.

I recognize this beast; it was also a super-powerful being from millions of years ago.

Tigers and other ferocious beasts are nothing more than little brothers in its eyes; its most distinctive feature is its fangs, which are over sixteen centimeters long.

Only one species of tiger possesses such long canines: the saber-toothed tiger. And the fangs of this tiger clearly reach the maximum length of the saber-toothed tiger family.

It is the Destruction Saber-toothed Tiger, which has the strongest hardware in the saber-toothed tiger family. These guys have evolved to have shorter and more compact hind limbs than their peers, which allows them to exert better grip and control of their prey when fighting.

They generally weigh over 400-500 kilograms, and the takin that I hunt is a regular on their menu.

This beast has an extremely strong body, and its exaggerated upper canines, resembling sabers, are not afraid when facing prey twice its size.

According to relevant research, their hunting methods are not like those of tigers, where they kill their prey by locking their throats.

Instead, it uses its equally powerful forelimbs to pounce on the back of large prey, just like a modern lion, and then uses its saber-like canines to pierce the prey's lungs.

This hunting efficiency is even higher than that of modern felines. If it pounces on your side and strikes you like that, it's like having two sabers stabbing into your lungs at the same time.

No matter how tenacious you are, you'll have to lie down and accept your fate within a hundred steps. The kind of bison that can escape from the jaws of lions, as seen in the animal kingdom, simply doesn't exist in the world of saber-toothed tigers.

It clearly spotted Top and me; it was the first time Top had ever seen such a large beast.

Top visibly tensed up and shrank closer to me. This was an instinct ingrained in his monkey genes—a fear of the power of primal beasts etched into his very bones.

I gently patted Top on the back to reassure it. We're up in a big tree now, and its limbs are much stronger on the ground.

However, when it comes to climbing ability, it's probably not even as good as a blind black bear. Its body, with its shortened hind limbs, is simply not suitable for climbing trees.

It's estimated that its hind legs aren't even enough to grip the tree trunk, let alone climb the tree with its two front legs.

Unless it takes several courses of diet pills to reduce its weight to over 100 pounds, even a leopard can't do this kind of difficult move.

Now that Top and I are full, we look at the saber-toothed tiger on the ground and the other predators hiding nearby, sneering but not daring to approach.

It's like sitting in the audience of a zoo, watching these wild animals while eating stir-fried meat strips in your hand, which feels quite pleasant.

But having fun is one thing, but after a good meal, we still have serious business to do. We're perfectly safe up in the tree now, with no worries about any other threats approaching.

Advance planning and meticulous arrangements can greatly increase the chances of survival.

I started cutting the meat into pieces, and I made them into strips as long as one meter, just like I would make long beef jerky.

This way, they can be secured like bundles of firewood, allowing you to carry more at once.

It took me almost an hour to cut these strips of meat, even with Top helping me with a knife.

Although Topche's meat strips weren't very appealing, he could basically cut them into long strips just like I did, which put him ahead of most monkeys.

Just as we were busy, my old friend arrived on the battlefield. This time, it wasn't just one Sand Beast, but a whole group.