This time I was much calmer than before, after all, those two beasts were real combat experience.

At this moment, I have a platform to support me while I am in a subordinate position, and I also have a wooden spear in my hand, which gives me a great advantage.

On the other hand, the leopard looked rather disheveled. Now that it had to come down to the middle of the tree to deal with me, it couldn't face me with its rear end like it used to.

The thing a wild animal hates most is exposing its back to its opponent's view, even if it sees me as nothing more than a large monkey.

It was perhaps not used to climbing down the tree headfirst, so it moved very carefully and slowly.

Seeing this, I became even less panicked. What good is your jumping ability if you can't jump over this tree trunk? Why don't you just jump down to the ground?

The greatest tragedy is having the ability but being unable to use it, and this also destined the leopard that provoked me to lose its life in humiliation.

The leopard was less than two meters away from me, but I could still safely take out my wooden spear and poke it. It didn't dare to let go of its claws and could only roar and try to bite my wooden spear with its teeth.

Of course, I wouldn't let it succeed; it was now in a difficult situation. In its current position, retreating back to the treetop was impossible; any attempt to back away could cause it to lose its balance and fall from a height of nearly twenty meters.

What I need to do now is simple: provoke this powerful beast as much as possible. The angrier it gets, the faster it will lose its strength. In the end, it will inevitably become exhausted and fall from this height because it can no longer hold onto the tree trunk.

If it had even a shred of logic to consider its own situation, it wouldn't have attacked me so recklessly. But there are no "ifs," and wild animals don't have logic; that's something unique to humans.

Otherwise, the hunters wouldn't be able to exploit the loopholes in the wild animals' logic to create all sorts of traps to hunt them down. Today is destined to be a tragic day for this leopard.

The leopard was getting impatient; I had it pinned halfway down the tree by my wooden spear. Every time it tried to come down a little, I would plunge the spearhead into its head.

Although it only caused some superficial injuries to this agile beast, the pain was real and unavoidable.

Seeing that it couldn't break through his defenses, the leopard became increasingly angry and agitated.

But the angrier and more agitated it became, the more its body swayed. I could feel its two forelimbs trembling slightly. Its shoulder blades were also starting to wobble from bearing the weight of its entire body for so long.

As for its hind legs, they are not as flexible as the feet of primates. Apart from barely hooking onto the tree trunk to maintain balance, they are basically of little use, and the hind legs provide the support it needs.

Just as it was losing its strength, I keenly caught a glimpse of ruthlessness flashing in its eyes. I had seen that look before; it was the look I had seen in the leopards and wild boars I had encountered before.

This is a sign that they are about to fight to the death when they have reached a dead end. At this moment, the beasts will completely lose their minds and fight for their lives. This is also the most dangerous time for them.

I dared not be careless in the slightest, gripping the wooden spear tightly, fully prepared. Just then, the leopard that had been perched on the tree suddenly leaped up and pounced on me.

I was shocked!

I had imagined many possible attack methods it might use, but I never expected it to leap up and pounce vertically at me, a suicidal attack.

Instinctively, I thrust the wooden spear forward, and the downward momentum pierced the leopard's throat. The spear, propelled downwards by the leopard's weight, meant that, unsurprisingly, the leopard pounced on me, dragging me down the tree with it.

But then my wooden spear saved my life again; as it fell, the end of the spear caught the tree trunk.

This caused the leopard's vertical descent to use the tree trunk as a fulcrum and the stick as a radius to perfectly draw a semicircle in the air, intersecting with my body.

That was close!

I was terrified, breaking out in a cold sweat. If it weren't for the wooden spear that pried the leopard's body apart at the last moment, even if I had killed the leopard, it would have dragged me down the tree to my death.

After I lifted the leopard down from the tree, the monkeys in the canopy cautiously began to huddle closer to me. Some were afraid, while others were curious, craning their necks to look at the leopard that had fallen to the ground and was already dead.

The monkeys' anxiety subsided somewhat once they were certain the leopard was no longer moving and wouldn't climb back up.

They then turned their attention to me, and saw that I was still full of energy and greeting them. These monkeys seemed to have seen something incredible, something magical.

They hopped from branch to branch, chirping and communicating, but it was impossible to tell what they were saying.

But I think they were probably saying, "Look at that big monkey, it's amazing! It subdued the leopard without getting a single scratch!"

At that moment, I could see the look of admiration in the eyes of these monkeys; it seemed they regarded me, who wouldn't easily harm them, as one of their own.

Perhaps they thought I had chased the big cat away, since they had been watching the fight with the leopard closely.

I'm in a hurry to go down and deal with that leopard. Given the density of animals here, the leopard's blood will likely attract other predators soon.

But I wasn't entirely at ease with these monkeys. I was worried that once I went down, they would swarm up and steal my things.

So I could only grab my wooden spear and yell at them. Confused, they all swarmed back to the highest branch. In their eyes, I must be more dangerous than the leopard now, since I had just killed it.

Animal cognition is so amazing; they only recognize what they see in front of them. Actually, they are now completely convinced by me. Even if I don't yell at them, they don't dare to wander around my basket like they used to.

I only learned these things after spending time with those interesting monkeys.

I stood the wooden spear upright next to the basket; it still smelled strongly of blood, which should temporarily scare away the monkeys.

I quickly slid down the tree, looked around to make sure there was no danger, and then ran to the nearest water source and drank several large mouthfuls of fresh water. I was so thirsty.

After drinking some water, I immediately returned to the spot where the leopard had fallen. I tied the rope that had been lowered from the tree beforehand to the leopard's two hind legs with a double overhand knot, and then climbed back up the tree.

Now I'm starting to see ghosts everywhere. I feel like there are ferocious beasts lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on me at any moment. So I've decided to pull the leopard up a tree to deal with it.