Time passed quietly.
James had originally thought that such idle days would drag on endlessly, but before he realized it, an entire month had slipped by.
During this month, his life followed a simple, repetitive routine.
Eat. Sleep. Eat again after waking up. Aside from that, he did some basic physical training and occasionally followed Wilma and Willam outside to get some fresh air.
The days were admittedly dull.
But for a growing saber-toothed tiger cub, this kind of life was extremely beneficial.
Now, at nearly four months old, James was already close to fifty centimeters in length and weighed almost thirty kilograms—roughly the size of a fox.
More importantly, his saber teeth had begun to take shape. Dark white fangs protruded slightly beyond his lips, giving him a faintly dangerous look even at this young age.
By comparison, Brock and Vivi, despite being born in the same litter, were clearly a full size smaller. Each of them weighed only around twenty kilograms.
The reason was simple.
James trained every day.
Regular physical exercise not only strengthened his muscles but also increased his appetite, allowing him to absorb more nutrients with each meal.
At the same time, over the course of this month, he steadily gained gene points through eating and absorbing animal genetic information.
The number of gene points obtained per meal varied unpredictably—sometimes more, sometimes less—but by the end of the month, he had accumulated a total of twenty points.
After careful planning, he used most of them to enhance his base attributes.
Now, his attribute panel looked completely different—
[Host]: James
[Species]: Smilodon (Male)
[Age]: 4 months
[Strength]: 10 (+)
[Agility]: 8 (+)
[Constitution]: 7 (+)
[Gene Points]: 3
[Fused Genes]: None
…
At dusk, shadows crept in from the distant mountains.
The mountain range shifted in color—dark ochre one moment, pale blue the next—its hues changing unpredictably as the light faded.
James lay near the cave entrance, quietly watching the scenery outside.
Not long ago, Willam and Wilma had left the cave together to hunt.
Now, Wilma no longer stayed with the cubs at all times. More often than not, she went out hunting alongside Willam.
They usually chose this time of day to hunt, which aligned perfectly with the habits of feline predators.
Resting during the day and going out at night had become the family's routine.
In order to keep all five members fed, Willam and Wilma had to work twice as hard hunting every day.
Aside from their own massive appetites, the three cubs were an even bigger problem.
Young ones always ate the most.
As their bodies continued to grow, the cubs' food intake increased day by day. Milk alone was no longer enough to satisfy them.
Only fresh meat could truly support their development.
Because of this, the pressure on Willam and Wilma had grown significantly.
"I wonder when I'll finally be able to go hunting with them…"
James couldn't help thinking about it.
For a long time now, he had spent most of his days inside the cave. Even when he was allowed out, it was only to wander around nearby.
He wanted to go farther.
He wanted to truly experience the Ice Age wilderness, to encounter the ancient creatures that lived nearby, and to hone the survival skills he would need when the day came for him to live independently.
There was no better way to do that than hunting alongside Willam and Wilma.
Unfortunately, they had no such plans yet.
Every time they went out, they left the three cubs behind in the cave.
Even when Brock occasionally tried to follow, Wilma would grab him like a chicken and toss him back without mercy.
The risks outside were simply too great.
They couldn't watch the cubs at all times, and if they ran into another predator, the outcome would be obvious.
Only when the cubs were older would they be taken to the hunting grounds to learn real combat skills.
For now, James could only wait.
Wait, and keep growing.
As time passed, the sun sank below the horizon. Night fell, and a full moon rose high in the sky, draping the mountains and forests in a pale white glow.
Willam and Wilma still hadn't returned.
Inside the cave, James continued exercising.
"Shh… shh…"
Suddenly, a faint sound came from the bushes outside.
His nerves tightened instantly.
All cats possessed extremely sharp hearing. Their ears could rotate freely, easily pinpointing the direction of any sound.
Even the slightest movement of wind or grass could not escape their senses.
Something was approaching.
Too close!
James's body tensed instantly, every nerve on high alert.
His ears twitched as he stared in the direction of the sound.
Inside the cave, Brock and Vivi—who had been biting and wrestling with each other—also sensed something was wrong and froze at the same time.
Crack!
In the suffocating silence, a sharp sound suddenly rang out.
A dead branch snapping underfoot.
It's here!
The thought had just flashed through James's mind when—
A pair of dark green eyes emerged from the bushes ahead.
Eyes filled with ferocity, ruthlessness, and an unmistakable thirst for blood.
Then—
A gray wolf stepped into view.
Blue-gray fur, exposed fangs, and a vicious expression far more savage than ordinary wolves.
During the Ice Age in North America, this land wasn't ruled by dire wolves alone. Gray wolves also roamed these plains.
They had coexisted with dire wolves for nearly a hundred thousand years. Even after the dire wolves went extinct at the end of the Pleistocene, gray wolves continued to dominate the vast continent, their lineage lasting hundreds of thousands of years.
The instant James saw the intruder clearly, his heart clenched violently.
Damn it.
So much for peace and quiet—he'd only been reborn for a month, and now he was already about to become someone else's dinner.
But as the gray wolf drew closer, he was finally able to see it clearly.
This wolf was still a sub-adult, barely over a meter long.
Its body was thin, ribs faintly visible beneath its fur. It looked like it had been starving for quite some time.
That explained everything.
Hunger had driven it to ignore the warning scent left by Wilma and Willam and break straight into a saber-toothed tiger's den in search of food.
James also noticed something else.
The wolf's hind leg was injured.
It limped slightly as it walked.
More importantly, no other wolves appeared.
Which meant—
It was alone.
"A wounded lone wolf…"
James's thoughts raced.
"But even so, I'm no match for it."
Fight?
Impossible. Even injured, the wolf was still twice his size. A starving wolf was still a wolf.
Run?
Even worse. Gray wolves far outmatched him in speed and endurance. He wouldn't get far at all.
Cold sweat broke out across his body.
In that split second, countless thoughts surged through James's mind.
What should he do?