After calming down, Brian Carter felt it was necessary to figure out where he was, because Brian Carter thought that Ethiopia was a relatively stable country and such a fierce gunfight between two sides shouldn’t have happened.

Brian Carter tried hard to recall, but didn’t remember hearing any news about unrest in Ethiopia before leaving the country. Naturally, Brian Carter thought he must have encountered a tribal vendetta. If that was the case, then the situation was a bit better—if he could meet tourists or ordinary civilians, it would mean he was saved.

Brian Carter didn’t have time to think much. As the sky gradually brightened, Brian Carter didn’t dare stay where he was any longer, fearing that the gunshots would attract the pursuers behind him.

Already so hungry he was dizzy, Brian Carter certainly wasn’t willing to waste the most readily available food he had. Although hyenas are scavengers and reek with a foul stench, Brian Carter thought that if he could cook the hyena meat thoroughly, it should be edible.

Brian Carter couldn’t take the whole hyena with him, nor did he dare stay and make a fire. With no other choice, Brian Carter used a knife to cut off the hyena’s four legs. This task was not easy for him; just getting his hands covered in blood was already hard for Brian Carter to accept.

When a person is desperate, they can do anything. Tying the four bloody, still stinking hyena legs together with rope and slinging them over his body, then chopping a branch to use as a crutch, Brian Carter limped off on his journey once again.

As he left, Brian Carter still took the AK47 with him. After walking a considerable distance, Brian Carter threw the gun into a grass hut.

A gun without bullets was nothing but a burden and a danger to him, and the reason Brian Carter carried the gun for a while before discarding it was so the pursuers behind wouldn’t know he was unarmed.

When the sun rose above the horizon and daylight was bright, Brian Carter figured he had walked about two or three kilometers. This distance wasn’t safe yet. Brian Carter wanted to go farther, but he was thirsty, hungry, and his leg was injured. Being able to walk this far already showed his strong willpower.

Brian Carter decided not to go any further. Until he had something to eat and drink, he wouldn’t take another step, fearing he might collapse and never get up again.

From a distance, he spotted a dead, withered tree, and Brian Carter felt as if he had found a treasure. It was July, the rainy season in Africa, and finding firewood on the savanna was not easy. Having a dead tree would undoubtedly save Brian Carter a lot of trouble.

He slowly walked over to the dead tree, but when the excited Brian Carter got closer, he was a bit dumbfounded. From afar, the tree didn’t look very big, but up close, Brian Carter was frustrated to find that although the dead tree was only about seven or eight meters tall, its crown was high above, with the lowest branches at least six meters up, like an open umbrella, and the trunk was as thick as Brian Carter’s waist.

If Brian Carter wanted to get branches, he’d have to cut down the whole tree, but he wasn’t foolish enough to try chopping down a tree with a hunting knife.

After finally making it to the dead tree, only to find a pile of firewood he couldn’t use, Brian Carter felt a bit defeated. Fortunately, fate didn’t abandon him—there were still some branches that had fallen from the dead tree on the ground. Though there weren’t many, if he gathered them, Brian Carter could at least roast some meat to fill his stomach.

Helplessly, Brian Carter used his crutch to push aside the weeds, searching for and collecting branches. After only a few steps, his eyes lit up—a branch as thick as his arm appeared in the grass.

Brian Carter had never imagined that one day he would be so excited to see a broken branch. He eagerly reached out to pick it up, but just as Brian Carter lifted the branch off the ground, he felt a sharp pain in his left hand.

As soon as he felt the sting, Brian Carter immediately dropped the branch and jumped back. Then he saw a large brown snake coiled on the ground. Relative to its length, the snake was quite thick. The upper half of its body was raised in an S-shape, facing Brian Carter, hissing menacingly.

Brian Carter looked at his bitten left hand. The wound was on the edge of his palm, with two large fang marks. For a moment, Brian Carter’s mind went blank. He blamed himself for carelessly turning over rocks and rotten wood on the savanna, knowing that venomous snakes might be hiding underneath. How could he make such a critical and deadly mistake?

But soon, Brian Carter snapped out of it. Driven by anger, Brian Carter raised his crutch and struck hard at a spot just below the snake’s head, smashing it to the ground. Then, using the stick to pin the snake’s head, he stepped on it, drew his knife, and chopped off the snake’s head with one stroke.

Brian Carter felt he probably wouldn’t survive. He killed the snake just to vent his anger, but after cutting off the venomous snake’s head, Brian Carter suddenly felt he shouldn’t give up so easily.

While desperately recalling what to do after a venomous snake bite, Brian Carter frantically pulled out a paracord from his waist pouch, then tightly wrapped it around his left wrist, biting one end with his teeth and tying a knot with his other hand.