Because Henry Carter clearly saw that the bison carcasses on the outskirts had already been dragged away by some wolves.

A gray wolf viciously bit into the tiger’s back. The tiger roared and rolled on the ground, but when it stood up again, the wolf still hadn’t let go. Just as the tiger tried to shake off that wolf, two more gray wolves pounced onto its body—one bit into the tiger’s shoulder blade, while the other clamped down on its tail.

The tiger reared up on its hind legs, its claws like steel hooks grabbing one of the wolves and forcibly tearing it off its body. Then Henry Carter saw the tiger’s massive jaws actually crush the wolf’s head.

At that moment, the tiger’s tail swung sideways, smashing the wolf that was biting it onto the ground, while its other paw hooked over the wolf still clinging to its back.

Pinning it down firmly with its claws, the tiger bit into the top of the wolf’s head and tore hard—shockingly, half of the wolf’s pelt was ripped clean off.

The tiger opened its bloodstained jaws and let out a thunderous roar. The screams of the skinned wolf pinned beneath it made the rest of the wolf pack, which had been preparing to attack, keep retreating.

Henry Carter sighed and covered the little calf’s eyes with his hand. This was the only thing he, as king, could do for it.

By this point, the fight should have ended—either the tiger would run, or the wolves would.

However, seeing the wolf pack close in once again, Henry Carter felt that his chances of becoming wolf dung had just increased.

Sure enough, the battered tiger finally retreated. It glanced at Henry Carter, who was less than ten meters away, its eyes full of reluctance, then ran toward a gap the wolves had deliberately left open.

The wolf pack chased after the tiger and ran off...

Henry Carter had no hope of being saved. Having worked in the wild for years, he knew exactly how wolves treated food.

There was no chance they would give up on such a juicy meal.

Just as he was feeling exhausted and about to rest his head against the little calf, the calf suddenly sprang up and ran off again.

A gray wolf leapt nimbly over Henry Carter’s head to chase after the calf.

There was nothing Henry Carter could do. Fortunately, there was a wild strawberry ripe among the grass, so he immediately picked it and put it in his mouth, savoring the last trace of sweetness the world had to offer him.

“Thump thump thump, awooo awooo awooo...”

A strange sound came from not far away. Henry Carter immediately craned his neck to look around, but unfortunately, his neck was too short and the wild grass too tall—he couldn’t see a thing.

However, the wolf pack seemed to have forgotten about him, each one stretching its neck and howling at the sky.

Soon, through the blades of grass, he saw a group of humanoid creatures charging in from all directions—bare-chested, with pelts tied around their waists, wielding bamboo spears and wooden clubs.

Henry Carter only saw pairs of large feet passing over his head, and also saw many male and female genitals.

Looking down at his own little willy, Henry Carter was certain these people were his own kind.

There was no time to wonder why his kind were so unkempt; he immediately thought of his own predicament.

In his infant state, he had no way to survive alone in the wild.

Having just experienced an indescribably bizarre event, Henry Carter felt he had no choice in who would raise him.

And since human infants are the most endearing form, he figured as long as these people weren’t completely heartless, they would take him in.

So, Henry Carter lay on the ground, waving his arms and legs and making “ya-ya” sounds to attract their attention. Unfortunately, those people seemed far more interested in the beef scattered everywhere, completely ignoring the tiny human that was him.

The wolf pack ran off.

Just as Henry Carter was feeling lucky, he witnessed another murder.

Someone had just hoisted a dead wolf onto their back when another person struck them on the head with a club from behind, causing them to collapse like a sack.

Immediately after, Henry Carter saw even more murders: a woman who had just been flaunting her chest to entice men stabbed a bone spike into a man’s neck; two partners who had just worked together to drive off a wolf, one suddenly threw the other to the ground and strangled him desperately, while the other kept smashing the attacker’s head with a stone.

Henry Carter saw with his own eyes someone open their mouth wide and bite through another’s throat, gulping down the blood, and saw a man drive a spear into a woman’s belly, pinning her to the ground before stopping.

Henry Carter closed his eyes in pain.

He understood why the tiger fought the wolves, and why the wolves resisted the tiger to the death.

But these humanoid creatures before him were slaughtering each other!

One group was finally driven off, while the remaining people raised their bamboo spears and stone axes, cheering and howling with joy.

The little calf’s escape failed; it was tied up and carried away. The ground was littered with beef and wolf corpses, which were slung over people’s shoulders. A big, bearded man passed by Henry Carter, grabbed his leg and lifted him up, even sniffed his body under his nose—treating him no differently than a piece of beef.

This was not a kind-hearted tribe!

Henry Carter looked up at the sky in despair, wishing the heavens would return the flesh and blood that had been taken from him.