King of the Wilderness-Chapter 154 - 130: Intimidating the Poacher Crew

The three of them packed their gear again and headed toward the plateau where the Dall Ram King had fallen.

Despite the short linear distance, they faced a steep canyon, requiring them to descend to the bottom and climb up the other side.

As they reached the canyon's midpoint, surrounded by towering rock walls, a faint yet distinct buzzing sound suddenly came from overhead.

The three stopped simultaneously and looked upwards.

A white quadcopter drone soared a few hundred meters above them, heading toward their target destination.

"A drone?" Stan's brow furrowed immediately, his gaze becoming wary.

"At this time, in this godforsaken place, why would there be such a thing?"

"Maybe it's those guys at the University of Alaska doing research," Old George speculated.

"I heard the university's biology department has been researching the effects of glacier melt on alpine vegetation recently, perhaps that's why they are using it."

Lin Yu'an also found it strange, observing the drone's flight path, which seemed purposeful, heading decidedly in one direction.

Stan spoke in a determined tone: "Using drones during hunting is completely forbidden, it's an iron rule every Alaskan hunter knows! Hopefully, it's just for research purposes."

Despite a hint of doubt in their hearts, retrieving the hard-won trophy was the only goal on their minds at this moment.

They chose not to discuss further, instead, they quickened their steps.

Finally, panting heavily, when they set foot on that isolated rocky plateau, the scene before them made them instantly forget their fatigue.

The majestic Dall Ram King lay quietly on the tundra, completely snow-white, without a trace of color.

Its sturdy and heavy giant horns appeared more breathtaking up close!

Perfect curves and deep annual rings silently told of its illustrious past as the king of the ridge!

"Martha... look... how beautiful it is..." Old George knelt on one knee, trembling as he gently brushed the cold hide of the ram.

Stan and Lin Yu'an stood silently aside, not disturbing the old man communicating in a time warp with his lost love.

They knew this moment belonged solely to George and Martha.

However, the tranquility did not last long.

Sounds of crumbling stones tumbled from the steep slope below, shattering the mountain silence.

Lin Yu'an's body immediately tensed, turning swiftly, gently placing his hand on the Glock pistol at his waist.

Stan also furrowed his brow, quietly unbuckling his chest holster.

Soon, three figures appeared at the edge of the plateau, all wearing jackets marked with "University of Alaska Earth Sciences Department."

Carrying what appeared to be very professional backpacks, their presence instantly altered the atmosphere in the air subtly.

They were three Black men.

This in itself was not odd, but such a homogenous ethnic combination was very rare in Alaskan research teams or outdoor groups.

More importantly, these three displayed none of the scholarly air or traits typically expected of academics or researchers.

Instead, they exuded a ruggedness and vigilance honed from clawing through the lower strata of society, and when their eyes swept over the ram's carcass, a flash of undisguised excitement flickered.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen."

The leading figure, the tallest among them and seemingly their leader, took the initiative to speak, squeezing out what he thought was a kindly smile.

"We are a research team from the University of Alaska studying the migratory patterns of Dall sheep."

"We've been tracking this herd with the drone for a while, never expecting to encounter local hunting here! Do you have a Dall sheep hunting tag?"

Lin Yu'an and Stan exchanged glances, instantly understanding that it was their drone.

The leader continued: "Nevertheless, congratulations on this extremely rare top-tier ram."

"Its data is incredibly valuable to our research, and handling and transporting such a large trophy is taxing. We can help relieve this burden, trading it for a lightweight check."

"Are you interested in selling it to us? We can offer a reasonable price."

He paused, extending five fingers: "Five thousand US dollars, how about that? Cash."

Upon hearing the offer, Stan almost burst into laughter.

In Alaska, a standard Dall sheep meeting hunting criteria, including guide fees and transportation, far exceeds that amount.

Moreover, the horns on this Ram King are clearly exceptional, valued at least between twenty thousand and thirty thousand US dollars, potentially higher among collector circles.

Five thousand US dollars hardly covers the zeros, it's not a purchase but an insult.

Old George slowly advanced to the forefront, having regained his calm and authoritative demeanor as an experienced old hunter.

He stepped forward, gazing steadily at the counterparts: "Gentlemen, according to Alaska Fish and Game Department regulations, once a hunter successfully bags large game, they must immediately etch the date on their harvest ticket and clip the corresponding tag."

"Before the game is removed from the hunting grounds, the skull and hide must remain naturally attached to the body for inspection by law enforcement at any time."

"Moreover, while the law allows residents to sell non-edible parts, a special license is required, and detailed transaction reports must be submitted to the Fish and Game Department."

"But there is one thing that is absolutely prohibited, and that is selling meat that can be eaten. Any act of using game for commercial transactions is a serious crime."

Old George looked at them and changed the subject: "So, do you want to buy its horns, or do you want to take the meat along with it?"

This question was like a sharp knife, instantly piercing the disguise of the opposing researchers.

The leader's face, a black man, changed slightly, but he forced a smile and said, "Of course we're doing things properly, we mainly need the skull specimen for research..."

"Then there's nothing to talk about."

Old George interrupted him directly: "This sheep, I hunted for my wife, its horns will be hung on my fireplace, I won't sell any part of it. Now I hope you can leave my prey alone and won't interfere with our subsequent processing."

Having said that, he discreetly adjusted the Remington Model 700 Rifle behind him to a more accessible angle.

"Old man, you'd better think clearly!"

The shortest but fiercest-looking black man among the three couldn't hold back, he stepped forward, his tone filled with threat.

"With you two old guys and a yellow-skinned kid, you think you can get this thing weighing over three hundred pounds down the mountain? This place is deserted, if something really happens, the police and law can't help you!"

As soon as these words were out, the atmosphere dropped to freezing point.

Lin Yu'an didn't speak, he just pulled the fore-end pump of the Mossberg 590A1 slowly in front of them.

That crisp and loud "click-clack" sounded like a battle alarm in the silent valley, full of undeniable warning.

Stan chuckled, took off his gloves, and leisurely breathed onto the large barrel of his Ruger Super Redhawk.

Then he carefully wiped it with his sleeve, as if admiring a piece of artwork.

The six dark holes of the .44 Magnum cylinder looked like Satan's six disciples, ready to plunder life at any command!

The three on the opposite side obviously did not expect this seemingly frail combination to be so tough; they felt the kind of ruthless strength that truly dared to gamble with life in the wilderness!

The leader came out again to smooth things over, raising his hands to signal his companions to calm down.

"Alright, alright, gentlemen, don't get excited, we'll offer twenty thousand US Dollars! This is almost the market's highest price!"

"We just don't want such a fine specimen to be poorly handled by amateurs, that would be too wasteful."

This was their last attempt at negotiation, a price already filled with temptation.

But Old George just looked at them coldly and shook his head.

"This is your last warning to leave." His voice gradually carried battle intent!

"According to Alaska law, deliberately interfering or lingering while others are engaged in lawful hunting or processing game constitutes 'hunter harassment,' which is illegal!"

"I have the right to demand you leave immediately, or you will have to bear the consequences yourselves!"

He paused, a flash of resolute fierceness in his eyes.

"We two old guys are not afraid of death, it's up to you three to see if you are willing to risk your lives here for those over twenty thousand US Dollars."

This final warning utterly shattered the psychological defenses of the other party.

The leader gave Old George a deep look, then swept a glance at Lin Yu'an holding a gun at the ready and Stan with a nonchalant expression.

He knew, this team was definitely not one that could be intimidated like a tourist and guide group, if they continued to pester, these people really dared to shoot.

"Alright, we were being presumptuous."

He ultimately chose to compromise, a fake smile reappearing on his face: "I hope there are no misunderstandings, we'll leave now. Good luck to you."

After saying that, he turned with his two reluctant companions and walked back the way they came.

Lin Yu'an still maintained his vigilant posture with the gun, eyes fixed on them.

Only after those three figures disappeared completely over the ridge did he slowly engage the safety of the shotgun and eject the primed 12-gauge shell.

"Huh, those damned bastards really think we're easy pickings." Stan let out a breath and said.

"Nice job, kid!" Old George walked over and gave Lin Yu'an's shoulder a firm pat, his eyes full of approval.

"That chambering move just now, the timing and momentum were just right! Remember, in Alaska, you can never show fear! Show it once, and every wolf will think they can tear a piece of flesh from you!"

Lin Yu'an nodded, he was just trying to control his boundless killing intent! There were several moments when he wanted to raise his gun and pull the trigger.

He thought he might need to study psychological medicine because he wasn't sure if this active psychological state of killing intent was normal.

It was probably a side effect of accidentally killing the motorcycle man not long ago.

"Alright, don't let those few scumbags affect our mood."

Old George took a deep breath of the mountain air, as if to exhale all the hostility from the confrontation just now.

His face once again beamed with a near-childlike, pure joy, a simple smile of harvest.

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(In six more chapters, can we write about interactions with Emily, dear big brothers.)