Chapter 270: Lion: You Killed the Hyenas, So You Can

This kind of real combat is more thrilling than any action movie.

Because you know movies are fake, but the man in this live stream is real—he can get hurt, he can die, and that’s exactly what makes it more exciting. That visceral shiver, impossible to resist.

Fans both domestic and overseas are flooding the chat en masse!

Domestic fans still hold back, but overseas fans have no restraint—vile, lewd remarks make it feel like this isn’t even a proper live stream.

“Jesus, Qin is insane.”

“I can’t imagine how powerful this man must be in bed, omg!”

“Unbelievable—seven spotted hyenas couldn’t hold him back for even a few minutes; they offered zero resistance and were slaughtered outright.”

“Whoa… now I believe Qin when he said he has a 70% chance of taking down a full-grown male lion alone.”

“Impressive…”

Qin Yun glanced at the blush-inducing comment sections of the other three live streams, thinking: Do foreigners even have censorship squads? How can they say anything so outrageous?

Those explicit words felt like reading pornographic novels.

Qin Yun turned his gaze away from the stream and finally fixed it on the male lion lying beside the baobab tree. The lion’s eyes met his—still cold, but Qin could see the fear lurking within: the fear of an alien species.

The fear of something that could effortlessly slaughter so many spotted hyenas.

If it can kill hyenas, it can kill me too—so it’s afraid. Especially now, wounded all over, exhausted, helpless, waiting to be slaughtered.

Qin Yun looked at it and said: “I can tell this male lion is now deeply wary of me.”

“Obviously—it’s terrified.”

“Lion: You killed the hyenas, so you can’t kill me now, okay?”

“Never thought I’d live to see a human make a lion afraid.”

“Simba, get up—it’s just a human, just food.”

The comment section relaxed now, filled with teasing remarks—any fool could see this lion posed zero threat to Qin Yun. If Qin wanted, he could kill it bare-handed right now.

Qin Yun didn’t hesitate—he stepped toward the baobab tree.

“Uuuu—!”

The lion immediately growled a warning, but the sound meant nothing to Qin Yun—it didn’t even make him pause.

As the two-legged creature drew closer, the lion mustered its last strength, lifting its limbs, baring its fangs, glaring fiercely—as if to warn: one more step and I’ll attack.

But Qin Yun had already seen through its bluster. Its wounds were too severe to heal in such a short rest.

Without food, this lion would only grow weaker.

“Thud!”

Suddenly, something fell from the sky, landing heavily between Qin Yun and the lion. The poor baboon lay on the ground, shrieking “Aaah! Aaah!” with its face twisted in terror.

Neither Qin Yun nor the lion moved—they let the baboon scream.

Qin Yun’s voice echoed through the live stream.

“Looks like this lion got lucky—food just fell from the sky. It’ll help greatly with its recovery. But if I don’t intervene, it’ll almost certainly die from infection by the hyenas.”

“Spotted hyenas eat carrion, gnaw bones—their mouths are teeming with tetanus bacilli, necrotizing bacteria, pus-forming microbes; their saliva is natural poison. With today’s heat, the lion’s wounds will easily turn septic, ulcerate, and likely develop into cellulitis or sepsis.”

“Once infected, it won’t even need to starve—other predators will smell the blood and devour it clean.”

As he spoke, he looked up and flipped the drone’s camera toward the sky. Five or six vultures circled above, eagerly awaiting a feast.

These grassland scavengers drool over hyena carcasses—things ordinary animals avoid.

Qin Yun turned to the lion and began making rhythmic gestures, occasionally roaring himself.

The bizarre display left viewers stunned.

“What the hell is Qin doing? Lost his mind?”

“Hahaha, looks like he’s doing a rope dance.”

“Will the lion even understand this?”

Qin Yun let out “Auuu~ Auuu~” sounds, utterly bizarre—but then came the jaw-dropping sight: the lion, once wary and terrified, stopped bristling.

It calmed down like a kitten, visibly softening.

Qin Yun stepped around the baboon and slowly approached the lion. The distance shrank until they were within reach—its massive head now filled the screen. The intimacy sent chills down viewers’ spines.

It felt like you could smell the lion’s foul breath through the screen.

Qin Yun watched as the lion lay still—he didn’t reach out to touch it. This was a lion, not a cat—their wildness was worlds apart. Though he’d used animal behavior knowledge to make the lion understand some commands, wild animals are still wild—touching blindly could mean a bite in return.

He circled the lion, carefully examining its wounds.

Three injuries posed the greatest infection risk: the hind leg, the neck, and the spine. All bore bite marks—especially the neck, where a chunk of flesh was torn away; the hind leg was worst of all, a bloody, mangled mess.

Qin Yun didn’t rush. He pulled a rock monitor lizard from his pocket and placed it beside the lion’s mouth.

Viewers watched.

“Damn, Qin, just toss it over—don’t you fear it biting your hand too?”

“Lion: Thank you, Qin, for the food.”

The lion stared at the lizard, licked its lips, then swallowed it whole in two bites. Its gaze toward Qin Yun slowly lost its fear—now it held anticipation.

Qin Yun chuckled, then tossed the second rock monitor lizard into the lion’s mouth.

“Here, eat it all. Now I’m going to treat your wounds—bear with it.”

Without waiting to see if it understood, he turned to the baobab tree, drew his dagger, and carved a hole into the trunk. Soon, a thick, opaque liquid slowly oozed out as he squeezed.

Qin Yun leaned in, took a sip, and said: “Honestly, this is my first time drinking baobab water—just like the records say, tastes like old wood soaked in water, faintly mineral-salty, but not pungent.”

He then filled his canteen, squeezing as he poured—soon, the 500ml bottle was full.

Qin Yun glanced at the main screen’s comments and said: “Baobab trees aren’t water barrels—what are you imagining?”

Many comments claimed baobab trees could hold one or two thousand liters of water—why didn’t it just gush out when you drilled a hole?

He explained: “The inside of a baobab is sponge-like fibrous wood—the water is soaked into the fibers, not flowing like a pipe. I had to drill and squeeze to get it out. If I don’t squeeze, the tree seals the hole and stops leaking.”

“You think drilling a hole makes water flow endlessly until it’s all gone?”

Qin Yun shook his head and walked back to the lion, planning to rinse the hind leg first—it was the worst wound.

He gently patted the upper part of the lion’s injured hind leg. The lion turned its head. Then, using his specialized method, he explained what he intended to do. Though he’d learned these techniques through animal behavior knowledge, he rarely used them.

This time, he had no choice.

The lion seemed to understand—it let out a soft sound, then lowered its head onto its front paws, staring fixedly at him.

Qin Yun smiled: “Turns out that accidental animal communication skill I picked up years ago actually works.”

He poured the water directly onto the hind leg wound, scrubbing it clean. But the baobab water carried natural salt—it stung instantly. The lion’s leg jerked involuntarily, and it let out a howl.

“Auuu—!”

Qin Yun’s left hand clamped down hard, suppressing the lion’s instinct to rise, then gently patted it, speaking soothingly like to a child.

“Hold on, hold on, it’ll be over soon.”

The water washed repeatedly over the torn flesh, flushing out hyena saliva, bacteria, dirt, and clotted blood. Dark red, foul-smelling fluid dripped down the lion’s fur.