Chapter 907: The Arrow is on the String

In the northern hemisphere's autumn, the air was laced with a hint of coolness.

The Kilimanjaro Mountain Range blocked the moist monsoon blowing in from the Indian Ocean, and abundant water vapor poured back over the savanna, diminishing the heat of the day with a slight chill. Beneath the night sky, brilliant stars scattered across the clear expanse.

The piercing howls of jackals rose and fell on the vast plains, while red-necked nightjars, hidden by the cloak of darkness, soared and called out to each other with cries that sounded like mournful sobs, beseeching the silent gods of the African savanna.

Beyond that, the night was eerily quiet.

Cecil, an eight-year-old male lion, paced along the sandstone path, his steps light and occasionally leaping over the rough ground with a bound.

His paws, the size of soup plates, gripped the rocky terrain, and the quartz sand crunched crisply as it compressed and collided.