Chapter 7：Calamity Waters

Although Allen's smile was gentle, the tone of his voice left no room for refusal, and everyone present could hear it loud and clear.

Bernice was already privy to Allen's poaching plans. As a formidable huntress, she had no doubt about her appreciation of it. In a world that admired strength, the huntress was, for the moment, willing to follow Allen.

So, Bernice was the first to step forward, her knife plunging ruthlessly into the sack.

Blood sprayed out, instantly staining the burlap red.

Aroused from his stupor by instinct, the lame man's screams had not yet ended before Pete thrust another knife into him.

This blade pierced directly into the lame man's lung.

The remaining four, though they had never killed a man, had slaughtered numerous animals.

They were neither fearful nor hesitant; they feared only poverty and hunger.

Without a second thought, one after the other, they each took up the hunting knife and stabbed into the sack at the unknown person inside.

When they opened the sack, they realized they had stabbed to death the captain of the river mouth rainforest's ranger team, the lame man.

But what did it matter?

They had already determined to engage in illegal logging, and what's killing a noble's lackey in the grand scheme of things?

Having submitted their proof of loyalty, Allen tasked Pete with dragging away the dead body.

He then led Bernice and the others, carrying their belongings, and set off into the depths of the rainforest under the cover of night.

…

The next day, the sky was overcast, and a light drizzle enveloped the forest.

By the humid noon, the rangers noticed their captain had yet to arrive.

Little O'Brien, inflamed by anger, assumed the lame man had overindulged in alcohol the previous night, shirking the work he had arranged.

"Damn peasants, drunk on my wine and daring to neglect their duty!"

Little O'Brien seethed in suppressed fury, regretting his generosity in even considering awarding the lame man—the peasant—the spoiled wine tainted by horse urine.

A deep-seated avarice stirred anger in him, and he led his men toward the lame man's home.

There, the intact chains and muddled footprints on the ground revealed that something had befallen the lame man.

Additional tracks—a series of dragging marks and a sinister trail of blood—led into the forest.

Little O'Brien deemed the lame man's chances of survival slim.

The stingy bastard felt an even greater rage; not only was the poor-quality wine gone, but he also lost a male slave!

In little O'Brien's eyes, everyone in the ranger team was his property, his to command.

Stingy people often have a good memory, and losing a lame man reminded little O'Brien of another: Allen, whom he had whipped and expelled from the ranger team.

How could this happen!

Could personal property decide its fate?

Immediately, little O'Brien resolved to retrieve Allen.

However, upon arriving at Allen's straw hut, he found not only that Allen was gone, but so too was a youth from the ranger team known as Pete.

This made little O'Brien feel as though he had suffered a great loss of property.

Enraged, little O'Brien ordered the hut to be set ablaze, burning it to the ground, before returning with a sullen face.

…

Deep within the rainforest, where Allen was cautiously crossing the river, he was oblivious to the fact that his home had been reduced to ashes.

Unaware that little O'Brien harbored resentment against him and sought retribution for some preposterous reason.

And it was utterly coincidental that little O'Brien yearned for revenge, considering Allen had slain the lame man, the captain of the ranger team.

…

The obstacle in front of Allen and his party was a turbulent river.

Originating deep within the rainforest with sprawling water systems, the Bakken River was the Gondwana world's eighth-largest river.

Together with the thirteenth-largest river in the world within the mainland of the Sequoia Kingdom—the Bata River—it covered over seventy percent of the country's territory.

Particularly the Bakken River, with its more extensive and complicated water system, was turbulent all year round.

Allen held back the fisherman who wanted to test the waters, pulling him to safety.

"Be careful. This spot is a blind corner for the ranger patrol, but it's also where crocodiles and river monsters lurk."

Even at the tail end of the dry season, the Bakken River was relentless.

From afar, Pete's brows furrowed as he suddenly noticed a slender, dark shadow slipping from the opposite bank's muddy embankment into the murky waters.

Pete gripped his fists tight, looking apprehensively at Allen, "Boss, that is..."

Allen glanced at his team with varied expressions and nodded slightly, "Yes, that's a Bakken crocodile, the most dangerous creature in this part of the river."

While they spoke, the rest of the team had already put together two sheepskin rafts.

A dozen joists, thick as a wrist, were lined up side by side, each flanked by two inflated sheepskin bags.

Pushing the rafts into the river, Allen instructed Pete to take the carpenter and blacksmith as one group, while he took the remaining team members as another, each boarding their sheepskin rafts.

The deceased lame man from the previous night had been divided into chunks of varying sizes by the team.

"Set off!"

With a wave of his hand, Allen issued the order.

The men slowly moved their primitive oars, propelling through the relentless flow of the river, stirring the current, moving upstream against it.

Allen caught sight of that creature, a mere fifteen meters away, the Bakken crocodile was nearing.

"Use all your strength to throw the body parts as far as you can! After diverting the crocodiles, paddle with full force toward the opposite bank!"

Orders given, the team began frantically tossing the remains into the water.

The keen crocodile was quickly lured away by the chunks of flesh.

Bernice stood at the prow of the first sheepskin raft, bow and arrow in hand, her eyes vigilant, constantly monitoring the murky waters.

Seeing a few unusual ripples on the surface, Allen breathed a sigh of relief.

The crocodiles were clearly distracted by the flesh, it was time to move full steam ahead!

But in that split second, a mix of pained and terrified screams suddenly grew closer.

Soon thereafter, a man, missing a portion of his leg and clinging for dear life to a piece of mangrove, floated rapidly downstream.

The swift current accelerated relentlessly along this stretch, and the man's pace was alarmingly swift!

Faced with life or death, the man caught sight of Allen and the others.

He charged towards Allen's raft like a maddened bull, desperately paddling through the water.

Without much thought, Allen ordered, "Bernice, shoot him dead!"

Bernice showed no hesitation; her arrow