120: Maasai

Jiang Yuan sat on the roof of the vehicle, watching the scene before him—a coexistence of hell and heaven—his eyes calm yet holding a trace of awe.

He picked up the microphone, his voice low:

"Many people tell me to save them."

"But I cannot."

"In this land, mercy is the greatest cruelty."

"The crocodiles have been hungry all year, waiting for this moment. They, too, are striving for survival and reproduction."

"When this small wildebeest is eaten, its flesh nourishes the crocodile. When the crocodile dies, it nourishes the riverbed, allowing grass to grow, which in turn feeds the next generation of wildebeest."

The camera shifted.

It focused on a small wildebeest that had just climbed onto the opposite bank.

It was soaking wet, and a gash deep enough to expose bone marred its hind leg—a clear sign of a narrow escape from death.

It shakily stood up, glanced back at the river stained red with blood, then turned resolutely and hobbled toward the lush green grassland ahead.

Behind it was the golden sunlight and the widespread new life covering the mountains and plains.

"This is the answer to life."

Jiang Yuan's voice carried a power that seemed to penetrate the soul.

"Endless life, born toward death."

The live stream image froze on the small wildebeest running toward the sunlight.

There was no concluding remark. No thank you for watching.

The screen went black immediately.

The broadcast has ended.

Leaving tens of thousands of viewers sitting in front of their screens, unable to calm their stirred emotions for a long time.

By the riverbank.

Jiang Yuan took off his sunglasses and slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.

The scent of blood in the air intensified.

But this was the real Africa.

Bidding farewell to the thrilling epic of life at the Mara River, Jiang Yuan was in no hurry to leave this land brimming with primitive, wild charm.

Over the next three days, he acted like a true wandering explorer, driving the System-disguised land rover defender, roaming aimlessly across the wilderness surrounding the Ngorongoro Crater.

This area was far from the regular safari routes where tourists gathered; even tire tracks were hard to find. The signal on the vehicle navigation had long vanished, replaced by the purest silence and desolation.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, the sun was so scorching it seemed capable of melting the earth.

Visible heat waves rose from the red earth, and the air created a distorted, refractive effect due to the high temperature.

Just as Jiang Yuan planned to find some shade to stop and drink a glass of ice water, a flash of extremely bright red suddenly intruded into the dry yellow scrubland at the edge of his vision.

Against the monotonous yellowish-brown backdrop of the African savanna, that red appeared particularly dazzling and proud.

They were dozens of Black men draped in red checkered capes, carrying wooden sticks and long spears.

Every one of them was astonishingly slender, with long, thin legs, like black cranes on the prairie.

Driven by them, a large herd of scrawny Zebu cattle stirred up dust clouds, slowly moving toward an unknown water source.

The Maasai people.

The last nomadic aristocrats of the East African plains, the legendary warrior tribe who dared to single-handedly challenge a lion with just a spear.

When the oddly shaped silver-grey off-road vehicle approached with a low engine rumble, the moving procession instantly halted.

Several young Maasai people warriors responsible for guarding the herd reacted extremely fast, instinctively tensing their muscles. Their spears and round shields covered in cowhide were instantly raised, their gazes sharp as eagles, fixed intently on the steel monster that had intruded upon their territory.

Here, strangers often meant danger.

They could be poachers, or greedy land grabbers.

Through the windshield, Jiang Yuan saw the vigilance in their eyes.

He gently stepped on the brake, stopping the vehicle fifty meters away from them—this was a safe distance and a gesture of goodwill.

He turned off the engine, pushed the door open, and stepped out.

Jiang Yuan deliberately took off the black windbreaker, which looked high-tech and might cause misunderstanding, opting only for a simple white cotton T-shirt and tactical trousers.

He carried no weapons, even removing his sunglasses, and spread his hands, palms facing outward, signaling that he posed no threat.

"Supa! (Hello)"

Jiang Yuan smiled. Instead of using the common Swahili language, he immediately spoke the most authentic Maa (Maasai people language).

Possessing All-Purpose Mastery, no language in the world held secrets from him.

Whether complex European language families or obscure African dialects, they were automatically indexed and matched in his mind.

Every syllable spoken from his mouth now carried a unique guttural rhythm, so standard that he sounded exactly like a native tribal elder.

Hearing this greeting that only tribe members understood, the tense, confrontational atmosphere among the group instantly dissipated by more than half.

A very tall elder leading the group slowly walked out.

He held a shiny black scepter in his hand and wore large circular ornaments on his earlobes, clearly the chief or elder of the tribe.

The old chief used his somewhat cloudy yet still sharp eyes to size up Jiang Yuan.

He had seen white tourists; they always sat in their cars, pointing long cameras and snapping pictures of them like they were monkeys, speaking incomprehensible gibberish.

But this Oriental man was different.

Not only did he speak their native tongue fluently, but his eyes were clear, devoid of arrogance or curiosity, showing only a gentle demeanor, like an old friend paying a visit.

The old chief waved his hand. The warriors behind him hesitated, then slowly lowered their spears, but still maintained a semi-encircling stance.

Jiang Yuan didn't mind. He glanced at the Maasai people people's cracked lips and tired expressions, then looked at the empty space where they were resting.

There were only a few shriveled water bottles and some hard, rock-like corn cakes.

Clearly, this group had not had a proper meal in a long time.

"It looks like you've traveled a long way."

Jiang Yuan smiled and pointed at the dry rations on the ground in fluent Maa, "If you don't mind, I have some food here we can share."

"Guest from afar, if you know our language, you are our friend," the old chief said, his voice hoarse but his tone carrying a hint of respect.

Jiang Yuan turned and walked to the rear of the vehicle, pretending to open the trunk, but actually retrieving a futuristic silver-white briefcase from his Spatial Warehouse—the [Portable Molecular Cooking Machine].

He placed the case on a flat black rock and, under the curious yet wary gaze of the Maasai people, gently pressed the switch.

"Buzz—"

A faint blue light flowed across the surface of the case, which automatically unfolded like a blooming mechanical lotus, revealing intricate blue light slots and complex synthesis pipelines inside.

The surrounding Maasai people were startled; a few timid ones even recoiled, thinking it was some kind of witchcraft artifact.

"Don't be afraid. This is a tool for cooking food in my hometown."

Jiang Yuan casually grabbed a handful of dry grass seeds from the ground and threw them into the left slot, then poured in a bottle of purified water.

Next, he quickly tapped the holographic touch panel a few times, selected the synthesis recipe for [Braised Beef Brisket - High-Energy Edition], and specifically adjusted the flavor parameters, increasing the salt and spices to suit the preferences of heavy laborers.

"Time to witness a miracle." Jiang Yuan snapped his fingers.

The machine began to operate silently inside. The original dry grass and water molecules were broken down and reorganized, perfectly aligning according to the molecular structure of beef.

Just thirty seconds later.

A rich, overpowering aroma of meat instantly exploded across the wilderness.

It wasn't an ordinary meaty smell; it was the ultimate fragrance, optimized at the molecular level, stripping away all gamey odors and retaining only the purest savory essence of meat.

For the Maasai people, whose taste buds had long been dulled by years of eating rough food, this was simply the taste of heaven.

The Adam's apples of many young warriors began to bob violently, their eyes fixed straight on the silver case.

"It's ready."

Jiang Yuan brought out a large metal basin he had prepared, filled with steaming, brightly colored, rich-sauced braised beef chunks.

He did not adopt a posture of charity. Instead, holding the basin with both hands, he walked up to the old chief, bowed slightly, and offered it to him.

"Have a taste."

The old chief hesitated for a moment.

The tempting aroma was like a hook, firmly latching onto his soul.

He stretched out a dark, skinny, calloused finger, carefully picked up a piece of beef, and put it into his mouth.