Morris Dawan lowered his voice, a hint of surprise in his tone, "Really?"

"Yes."

"Where did you find it? Was it in the area I pointed out to you?"

"No."

"Don't mention that place anymore; I was being followed and got injured. I barely managed to shake them off."

"Is your injury serious?"

"Yes, I need medical attention."

"Who was following you?"

"I'm not sure. They were driving a blue pickup truck and wearing a black hood. They injured me with a machete."

"Then where did you find the treasure?"

"Because I was being followed, I didn't search the area you mentioned for long. I moved to the next area, and at the bottom of a canyon, I found a balance stone. Next to it was a crescent-shaped crack, and in the corner of the crack was a pile of stones, within which I found the treasure chest.

Morris, there's a lot of good stuff in the chest. We're rich!"

Morris Dawan pumped his fist vigorously, "Great! Our efforts weren't in vain. Where are you now?"

"At the rendezvous point we talked about. Do you want to come find me?"

"I told you, those bastards are starting to suspect me; they took the keys to my motorcycle."

"What are you going to do? If they detain you, should we give them some of the treasure?"

Morris Dawan sighed, "How much do you plan to give them?"

"I could accept giving them a fifth."

Morris Dawan thought for a moment and said, "People are greedy; they might not accept that distribution method.

So, you come from the meeting point, follow the south bank, and head west to pick me up.

I'll find a way to escape."

"Can your leg walk?"

"Yes, but it might worsen the injury. But compared to the treasure, it's nothing. I just feel sorry for my motorcycle; it's been with me for many years."

"Come on, forget about that old bike; this treasure is enough to buy hundreds of them."

"You're right," Morris Dawan resolved.

The night grew quieter.

Morris Dawan felt that time had slowed down as he kept observing the RV's movements through the window gap.

He couldn't hear any sound, nor see any shadows passing by the window.

He felt those two might have fallen asleep.

But recalling Luke's decisive actions today, there must be some precautions against him, so he decided to wait a little longer.

Morris Dawan was an experienced hunter, and patience was the most important trait for a hunter.

Morris Dawan took the chance to doze off for a while to recharge his energy.

The time came to the latter half of the night; Morris Dawan suddenly opened his eyes and gazed at the RV again.

He watched for about ten minutes, and there still wasn't any movement in the RV.

It was already after 3 a.m., the time when people get the most drowsy. Even if Luke had doubts about him, he should have relaxed his guard by now.

Morris Dawan took out the walkie-talkie to contact Grey Roche, asking her to meet him halfway.

Morris Dawan grabbed his personal items and the hunting rifle before crawling out in the opposite direction of the RV.

Still worried that Luke might be watching, Morris Dawan moved cautiously, crawling for a while before slowly standing up and limping forward.

He leaned on a cane, picking up speed as if seeing hope ahead.

After walking a certain distance, he didn't hear the familiar sound of the three-wheeled motorcycle, knowing that Luke hadn't followed, he let out a sigh of relief and slowed his pace.

His injured foot began to faintly ache.

He continued walking for about another ten minutes.

Not far ahead, there was a patch of firelight.

He sat on the ground, observing with binoculars; a motorcycle was parked next to the fire.

It was Grey Roche's bike.

A woman's figure sat beside it, her build suggesting she was Grey Roche.

Morris Dawan put away the binoculars and slowly approached.

"Grey," Morris Dawan called softly, but there was no response.

Morris Dawan frowned slightly and stepped forward to tap Grey Roche's shoulder. She collapsed to the ground.

Morris Dawan took a closer look and realized Grey Roche's face was lifeless, her chest stained with blood, and her thoracic cavity was cut open. Although the view was unclear, Morris Dawan sensed her organs were missing as well.

"Fuck."

Morris Dawan was shocked, feeling a chill run down his spine.

He faintly heard footsteps; someone was behind him.

He grabbed the hunting rifle on his back and spun around sharply.

"Ah!"

Morris Dawan felt sharp pain on his right arm,

a machete had cut his right arm clean off.

The assailant was a hooded figure, whose build suggested he was male. He had been hiding behind a large rock nearby and had quietly approached Morris Dawan from behind while he inspected the body.

The arm fell to the ground, along with the hunting rifle.

Morris Dawan was in agony, but he couldn't afford to focus on his severed arm because the attacker likely wanted more than just his arm—possibly his life.

He wanted to fight back, but there was no weapon in reach, and his hand was cut off; he could only run, but he had an injured foot, and his elbow was bleeding heavily.

In such circumstances, he didn't think he could outrun his opponent.

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