The swamp's foul, fishy stench drifted on the wind, and the reeds rustled softly. Chen Jing hid behind a thick stand of reeds, his eyes fixed on the Dragon-Horned Crocodile beside the mud pit.
After two hunts, Chen Jing had long since realized that the habits of strange beasts were unpredictable. The danger never lay on the surface, but in whether you underestimated them.
Moreover, the swamp's terrain was complex. If he attacked rashly and got dragged into the mire, the consequences would be unthinkable.
So the safest course for now was to learn the Dragon-Horned Crocodile's habits first.
Chen Jing slowly held his breath and carefully observed the Dragon-Horned Crocodile's every move. He committed to memory how often it rooted around in the muddy water, how hard its scales were, and the rhythm of its limbs as it moved.
During a lull in his observations, Chen Jing pulled a strip of dried Shadow Wolf meat from his clothes, broke off a small piece, and tucked it into his mouth to chew slowly.
As the dried meat went down, warm, refined blood energy slid through his throat and into his belly. It replenished his strength and kept his mind clear.
About half an incense stick later, Chen Jing had a fairly good grasp of the Dragon-Horned Crocodile's condition.
To further test its alertness and speed, Chen Jing took a piece of prepared rations from his pack. With a slight flick of his fingers, he aimed at a Dragon-Horned Crocodile moving slowly some distance away and tossed it over.
The ration traced a low arc through the air before landing with a plop in the mud just ahead of the Dragon-Horned Crocodile, splashing a few drops of murky water.
At the sound, the Dragon-Horned Crocodile abruptly stopped rooting around. Its broad