After some time, Kevin secured the short knife to his waist with one hand, held the lion bound with vines with the other, and sought out a relatively safe riverbank where he sat down.
En route, he also foraged for some sour fruits and gathered a handful of dry branches, seemingly to facilitate a fire for cooking.
"Are you still keen to escape?" queried Kevin as he patted the lion's head.
His voice, having been silent for a while, emerged as low and hoarse, nearly inaudible due to his lack of exertion, yet unexpectedly imbued with a menacing undercurrent.
Young Lion: "..."
After gingerly examining its fur, Kevin raised a question, "You don't have any marks on your body, right? If not, I won't be polite... After all, I've been hungry for a long time."
There exist two groups of beasts on this mainland: one group possesses no discernible markings and is deemed permissible for consumption as they comprise prey, though if one is astute and formidable enough, they could also be provoked into prey.
And the other type, characterized by a tribal mark, is not of significant concern.
It is a colossal beast-man that, upon careful examination, appears to be the ancestor of Kevin from thousands of years ago.
It belongs to one of the challenging races to communicate with.
"If indeed there is no mark, then you can only attribute your predicament to misfortune," uttered Kevin, attempting to offer consolatory words to the frightened lion.
The lion appeared terror-stricken: "!!!"
Kevin proceeded to pile up dry branches and leaves and extracted flint and steel from a leather bag he had obtained.
"Fortunately it's not broken..." He muttered.
After scrutinizing the contents of the bag to confirm their preservation, he placed it aside cautiously, so as not to inadvertently damage it.
He then lowered his head and rubbed the flint in an attempt to ignite the dry branches.
Suddenly, the lion, who had previously resigned itself to its fate and feigned death, inexplicably revived and thrashed around, tumbling like a slapstick comedian, as though it desired to chew through the vines and escape.
As if it could manage to do so...
Fearful that the lion would roll over and crush the cowhide bag, Kevin instinctively raised his head to startle it; however, he was utterly dumbfounded by the events unfolding before him.
In the blink of an eye, the lion, entangled in vines, had vanished, replaced by a brown-haired boy approximately seven or eight years old. He was in the process of freeing himself from the loose bind, his expression fierce, and his eyes filled with hostility towards Kevin.
Kevin: "..."
What happened to the formidable beast that was promised?
How can it transform into a human if it is unwilling to do so?
Regrettably, he is experiencing a minor discomfort in his abdomen.
However, before he could recuperate from this sudden discomfort, the young lad made a swift move, targeting Kevin's vulnerable area, sprawling on the ground and seizing the leather bag.
"Stop, don't touch it!" Kevin bellowed.
Alas, it was too late...
The youngster exuded a menacing vibe along with his thirst for danger, yet his reach proved inadequate.
In the end, Kevin managed to slap the hand away with a crisp sound of impact.
Kevin stood stunned, raising the boy's hand and utilizing his left hand to fasten the knot of the cane around the little rascal, firmly binding him.
With his right hand, he grasped the leather bag and frantically opened its mouth, snatched the object inside, and pinched it out.
The entity in question was the size of a bean, resembling a beetle at first glance; sadly, it met an untimely end, leaving behind minuscule smoky golden stains along its side.
Kevin's countenance remained expressionless, yet his thin visage had veins bulging on the forehead as he contemplated the situation.
This modest creature, known as "Xinsha", has proven to be a valuable asset in wartime.
It is a ubiquitous tool amongst soldiers in the army, relied upon for conveying location information and calling for reinforcements during covert operations.
Intriguingly, the various armies utilize differently colored letter sands for purposes of differentiation.
Distinctions are made amongst ordinary soldiers and officers, while a specific color signifies the commander level.
Moreover, the operation of Xinsha is remarkably user-friendly, requiring nothing more than a simple pinch to activate.
Its effectiveness is such that soldiers consider it as comforting as seeing their mothers, except for Kevin under current circumstances.
Kevin is so incensed with this dead letter that he wishes to seize and retaliate against it.
His intuition also tells him that the recipient of the Xinsha may share similar sentiments, fraught with apprehension and fear.
In retrospect, Kevin's assessment of the situation is remarkably accurate.
_______________
The resounding "bang" emanating from the observation platform situated in the Wujin Xuan Palace, nestled within the profound Great Rift Valley in the northern hemisphere, disrupted the stillness.
The aged priest, who was holding the observation pool, was visibly shaken and pursed his lips in a straight line.
His sudden anomalous reaction left the two young priests dumbfounded, and they gawked incredulously at the pool, where a cluster of lights had bloomed.
One of the priests exclaimed with disbelief: "Can this be a mirage? Are we dreaming? Letter sand? Smoked gold?"
His facial expression resembled that of someone who had just seen a ghost.
"I must have remembered wrong," he continued, "because didn't the smoked gold hue signify more than one person?!"
Still dazed, the other priest replied, "You are correct, the smoky gold color represents only one person- the bronze commander, Kevin Fassbender."
The first priest was bewildered and said, "But he died several years ago!"
Half an hour later, within the recesses of Wujin's hanging palace, the newly crowned emperor stirred awake upon hearing his servant's startled voice.
"Your Majesty! The Priests have just reported that Commander Fassbender is in the Andorha jungle, and the area is abuzz with excitement!"
Xindi remained silent, reflecting on the seemingly miraculous occurrence.