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HUN Chapter 130: Deterring the Poaching Team
🕑 Added 2025-08-19 09:30:25 +0000 UTCThe three men reorganized their equipment and set off toward the plateau where the ram king had fallen.
Although the straight-line distance wasn't far, a steep canyon lay before them, requiring them to first descend to the valley floor and then climb up the other side.
Just as they reached the middle of the canyon, surrounded by towering rock walls, a faint but distinctive "buzzing" sound suddenly came from overhead.
All three stopped simultaneously and looked up.
A white quadcopter drone was passing several hundred meters above their heads, flying toward their destination.
"A drone?" Stan's brow immediately furrowed, his expression becoming alert.
"At this time, in this godforsaken place, how could there be such a thing?"
"Maybe it's those university research folks from the University of Alaska," Old George speculated.
"I heard the state university's biology department is recently studying the impact of glacial melting on alpine vegetation. They might need something like this."
Lin Yu'an also found it somewhat strange. Watching the drone's flight path, it didn't seem to be conducting wide-range mapping but was flying very purposefully toward a fixed direction.
Stan said gravely, "Using drones during hunting activities is completely prohibited. This is an iron rule that all Alaskan hunters know! I hope it really is just for research purposes."
Although they all felt a twinge of doubt, at this moment, retrieving that hard-won prey was their only goal.
They didn't discuss it further, just kept this small incident in mind and quickened their pace.
When the three finally reached the isolated rock plateau, breathing heavily, the scene before them made them instantly forget all their fatigue.
That majestic Dall sheep king lay quietly on the tundra, pure white without a single blemish.
Its pair of thick, heavy massive horns appeared even more stunning at close range!
The perfect curvature and deep annual rings silently told of its glorious years as king of these ridges!
"May... look... how beautiful it is..." Old George knelt on one knee, tremblingly extending his hand to gently stroke the ram's cold fur.
Stan and Lin Yu'an stood silently to the side, not disturbing this old man's conversation across time and space with his departed beloved.
They knew this moment belonged only to George and May.
However, this tranquility didn't last long.
The sound of falling stones came from below the steep slope they had climbed, breaking the mountain's silence.
Lin Yu'an's body instantly tensed. He immediately turned, quietly placing his hand on the Glock pistol at his waist.
Stan also frowned, discreetly unfastening the snap on his chest holster.
Soon, three figures appeared at the edge of the plateau, all wearing matching jackets with "University of Alaska Department of Earth Sciences" printed on them.
They carried professional-looking climbing packs, but their appearance made the atmosphere suddenly tense.
They were three Black men.
This wasn't strange in itself, but such a single-ethnicity combination was very rare among Alaskan research teams or outdoor groups.
More importantly, these three men didn't have the slightest scholarly air that intellectuals or researchers should possess.
Instead, they exuded the shrewd alertness of those who had fought their way up from the bottom of society. When their eyes swept over the ram carcass, a flash of barely concealed excitement appeared.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen."
The tallest one, apparently the leader, spoke first, forcing what he thought was a friendly smile onto his face.
"We're a research team from the University of Alaska, conducting studies on Dall sheep migration patterns."
"We've been tracking this herd with our drone for a long time. We didn't expect to encounter local hunting! I wonder if you have Dall sheep hunting permits?"
Lin Yu'an and Stan exchanged glances, understanding immediately that it was indeed their drone.
The lead Black man continued, "But regardless, congratulations. This is a very rare, top-quality ram."
"Its data would be very valuable for our research. Processing and transporting such a large animal is very difficult. We could help you exchange this burden for a convenient check."
"Would you be interested in selling it to us? We can offer a reasonable price."
He paused and held up five fingers, "Five thousand dollars. How about it? Cash."
Hearing this offer, Stan nearly laughed out loud.
In Alaska, an ordinary Dall sheep that met hunting standards had hunting costs and value, including guide fees and transportation, far exceeding this amount.
The horns of this ram king before them were obviously not of ordinary size. In collector circles, the price would be at least twenty to thirty thousand dollars, possibly more.
Five thousand dollars wasn't even a fraction of the value. This wasn't purchasing, it was insulting.
Old George slowly walked to the front, having regained the calm and dignity of an experienced old hunter.
He stepped forward, looking at them calmly, "Gentlemen, according to Alaska Department of Fish and Game regulations, hunters must immediately mark the date on their harvest ticket and cut the corresponding tag after successfully taking large game."
"Before transporting the animal from the hunting ground, the skull and hide must remain naturally connected to the carcass for law enforcement inspection at any time."
"Furthermore, while the law allows residents to sell inedible parts of their harvest, they must hold special permits and submit detailed transaction reports to the Department of Fish and Game."
"But one thing is absolutely prohibited: selling edible meat. Any commercial transaction involving wild game meat is a felony."
Old George looked at them, then shifted his tone, "So, do you want to buy its horns, or do you want to buy the whole thing including the meat?"
This question was like a sharp knife, instantly piercing through their researcher disguise.
The lead Black man's expression changed slightly, but he still forced a smile, "We certainly follow the rules. We mainly need the skull specimen for research..."
"Then there's nothing to discuss."
Old George directly interrupted him, "This sheep was taken for my wife. Its horns will hang above my fireplace. I won't sell any part of it. Now I want you to leave my harvest and not interfere with our subsequent processing."
After speaking, he discreetly adjusted his Remington 700 rifle to a more accessible angle.
"Old man, you better think clearly!"
The shortest but most vicious-looking of the three Black men couldn't contain himself. He stepped forward, his tone full of threat.
"With you two old men plus one yellow kid, you think you can get this three-hundred-pound thing down the mountain? This place is deserted. If something really happens, police and law won't help you!"
The moment these words were spoken, the atmosphere dropped to freezing point.
Lin Yu'an said nothing, just slowly worked the pump action of his Mossberg 590A1 in front of them.
That crisp, loud "ka-chack" was like sounding a battle alarm in the silent valley, filled with unmistakable warning.
Stan chuckled, removed his gloves, and leisurely breathed on the barrel of his massive Ruger Super Redhawk revolver.
Then he carefully polished it with his sleeve, as if admiring a work of art.
Those six black .44 Magnum cylinder holes were like Satan's six disciples, ready to claim lives at command!
The three men obviously hadn't expected this seemingly weak combination to be so tough. They felt that genuine willingness to fight for their lives in the wilderness!
The lead Black man stepped forward again to mediate, raising both hands to signal his companions to stay calm.
"Alright, alright, gentlemen, don't get excited. We'll offer twenty thousand dollars! This is almost the highest market price!"
"We just don't want to see such a good specimen clumsily processed by amateurs. That would be such a waste."
This was their final pricing offensive, an offer full of temptation.
But Old George just looked at them coldly and shook his head.
"This is the last warning for you to leave," his voice gradually took on a fighting edge!
"According to Alaska law, deliberately interfering with or lingering around others conducting legal hunting activities or processing game constitutes 'hunter harassment' and is illegal!"
"I have the right to demand you leave immediately, or you'll bear the consequences yourselves!"
He paused, a flash of determined ferocity appearing in his eyes.
"We two old men aren't afraid to die. The question is whether you three are willing to risk your lives here for twenty thousand dollars."
This final warning completely shattered their psychological defenses.
The lead Black man looked deeply at Old George, then swept his gaze over Lin Yu'an standing guard with his weapon and the nonchalant Stan.
He knew this team was definitely not the kind of tourist-guide group that could be intimidated. If they continued pressing, the other side really would shoot.
"Alright, we were presumptuous."
He finally chose to compromise, putting that false smile back on his face, "Hope we didn't cause any misunderstanding. We'll leave now. Good luck to you."
With that, he led his two reluctant companions back the way they came.
Lin Yu'an maintained his armed guard posture, his gaze locked firmly on them.
Only after those three figures completely disappeared behind the ridge did he slowly engage the safety on his shotgun and eject the 12-gauge shell that had been ready to fire.
"Phew, those damn bastards really thought we were soft persimmons they could squeeze," Stan exhaled.
"Well done, kid!" Old George came over and punched Lin Yu'an's shoulder hard, his eyes full of approval.
"That chambering just now, the timing and presence were perfect! Remember, in Alaska, you absolutely cannot show weakness! Show weakness once, and all the wolves will want to tear a piece of meat from you!"
Lin Yu'an nodded. He had been struggling to control his limitless killing intent just then! Several times he had wanted to raise his gun and pull the trigger.
He felt he might need to study some psychology, unsure whether this active killing mentality was normal.
It was quite possibly a psychological aftereffect from accidentally killing that motorcycle man earlier.
"Alright, don't let those scumbags ruin our mood."
Old George took a deep breath of the mountain air, as if trying to exhale all the hostility from the recent confrontation.
His face once again radiated a childlike, pure joy, the honest smile of a successful harvest.
