I'm Really Going to Become an Immortal Chapter 568 - 342: I’m fighting Taro? For real?

On the vast African savanna, the setting sun bleeds red, dyeing the horizon a golden red, weaving a magnificent tapestry with the horizon.

The grass sways gently in the breeze, like ocean waves, with a few gazelles occasionally leaping by, leaving behind a series of light footprints.

On this vibrant land, a figure is crossing the field at an astonishing speed.

It was Stuka.

A well-built black warrior, he held a smoothly polished spear that reflected dazzling light under the golden rays.

Stuka’s skin was like the finest chocolate, his muscles taut and powerful, each quivering with his running, displaying his extraordinary strength and agility.

Sweat slid down his resolute face, yet it couldn’t hide the fighting spirit burning in his bright eyes. This was his seventh hunting trip this month, each one carried with a sense of duty to his tribe and awe of nature.

Unlike before, this ti his target was a male lion ousted from its pride.

It was a solitary wanderer, once a king among its pride, now a drifter on the plains.

Such a lion could weigh several hundred kilograms, and for a tribe whose food supply was dwindling daily, capturing such a beast ant not just a temporary satiation, but a guarantee of sustenance for the tribe for so ti.

As Stuka’s pace quickened, the tension in the air grew, his steady gaze locked on the target ahead.

A battle for survival was about to unfold.

Stuka had hunted large targets like male lions a few tis before, but previously he had companions, and this ti he did not.

Thus, it was only such a badly injured lion that allowed Stuka to dare venture alone.

Maybe it was the severe injury, or perhaps so other reason.

The lion allowed Stuka to chase it, making no attempt to stop and resist.

And Stuka, a veteran hunter on the savanna for ten years, knew that victory in this chase was assured, as the injured lion couldn’t run far.

The sun shifted in the sky, yet the sunlight was undiminished, the weather even hotter.

Eventually, the lion succumbed to its wounds, and Stuka seized the opportunity to throw his spear and pin the lion down, to prevent any surprises.

Stuka had to act quickly, because if the hyenas got wind of it, the hunt would all be for nothing.

He skillfully used the small stone knife on his waist to separate the hind legs and so organs from the lion’s body, and stuffed them into the horse lung bag he carried on his back.

After Stuka left, several vultures that had been hovering overhead finally descended to share the remains of the broken lion.

Stuka was fortunate, not encountering any hyenas; perhaps they had just fed, otherwise the bloody scent of the lion would have drawn hyenas from kiloters away.

After a while past noon.

Stuka followed the direction of the sun and returned to his tribe.

The tribe was situated in a relatively flat area, surrounded by sparse trees, with rolling hills in the distance.

Despite the changing tis, the tribe still retained many traditional ways of life but had also integrated so common modern elents.

Simple thatched huts and a few brick-built houses were interspersed, showing the tribe’s effort to balance between tradition and modernity.

As Stuka approached, the children spotted him and cheers erupted.

He showed everyone the spoils in the horse lung bag, which would be the tribe’s at for the next few days.

Several young people quickly ran over to help carry the trophies.

In the central clearing of the tribe, several won were preparing dinner next to a fire made of stones.

Seeing Stuka return, they imdiately got up to help process the freshly brought at.

The air was filled with the aroma of roasting at, a reward for the tribe mbers’ hard work.

As the tribe’s strongest warrior, he wasn’t needed in the cooking process, and all that was left for him to do was to wait patiently for the al to be ready.

So, Stuka went back to his grass hut to organize his equipnt.

For different prey, sotis different equipnt was needed.

Hunting the male lion today was just a casual test to ensure he hadn’t lost his skills, and in a few days, he would continue hunting the more manageable and undoubtedly more nurous herbivores.

Therefore.

Stuka was busy going back to switch his equipnt.

But as he just entered, he acutely noticed another person in the room.

Familiar to this person, Stuka raised an eyebrow and walked straight over.

This made the white man standing by the door stop scrolling through his phone and look up, speaking to Stuka in the tribal language, "Stuka, how about it? Do you want to co work with ? The salary there could support hundreds from your tribe, and you wouldn’t need to hunt."

Stuka wasn’t surprised by the appearance of this white man, who had co to invite him for the third ti to join so ’Shadow Blade Organization.’

He was uninterested in that job of killing.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t or was afraid to kill.

But being regarded as the world’s strongest warrior, he was more keen on running through the savannas battling wild beasts than dealing with frail humans.

Without guns, humans were so feeble.

He couldn’t summon any interest at all.

Because he knew, he had already surpassed most people in the world.