Humanity Forbidden Island [Complete] - 4

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Chapter 41:

The trees growing on the Green Bearskin Highlands were different from those at the foot of the slope. Each tree resembled a vertically erect pencil, its trunk tall but not particularly thick. The bark, like the back of a small crocodile, was slippery after several days of rain. Even with a strenuous climb, it was difficult to find a well-concealed firing position. Finally, halfway up the mountain, amidst a pile of boulders, I spotted several large rocks clustered together. Most of the rocks were egg-shaped, with gaps of about twenty centimeters at the bottom. By simply lying between two rocks, using some mountain grass to slightly cushion the small pebbles in the gaps, the sniper rifle could be placed stably.

I cut some branches proportional to the rocks and placed them beside the rifle, then wrapped some vines around the barrel. When firing, as long as the leaves on either side of the barrel didn't obstruct the scope, I could patiently wait for the target to appear.

The thick bearskin covered me, with green vines rolling on it, making it appear to be a pile of weeds to those using binoculars in the distance. Perhaps the night rain feared the sun; as dawn broke in the east, the raindrops, no longer as reckless as the night before, became much gentler, gradually falling vertically from the sky above the island.

Now I could unscrew the caps on the sniper scope, remove the banana leaf covering the lens to prevent it from getting wet, and through the net-like rain, I could vaguely see a large ship moored on the distant shore. If anyone was moving on the deck, I could only make out a few black dots moving with the naked eye.

I pressed one eye against the scope, and what I saw was like another world: a T-shaped mark in the pale blue circular aperture. If the target's vitals were firmly fixed at the intersection of this horizontal and vertical line for more than thirty seconds, they could be accurately shot in a straight line. The entire island

resembled a steamer basket filled with buns, shrouded in a white mist of water vapor. From this moment on, I had to keep a close watch on every move on the ship, clearly seeing their actions. If these guys show up directly on the deck, I can't shoot them immediately, lest I alert them. I have to wait until they land, then shoot one of the snipers. Even if they realize they've been ambushed, getting back to the ship will be impossible. I can easily kill them all in a short time, covering the distance from the shore back to the ship.

Through the sniper scope, I can only clearly see the hatch facing the island; the tall gun emplacement in the middle of the deck blocks the other hatch. Although I can't see them walking onto the deck, the ship is definitely immobile. Perhaps right now, the mechanics are racking their brains trying to start the ship.

These thugs bombed the mudflats last night and suffered my humiliation; they must have been itching to cause trouble all night. I've been watching the ship for a full hour, but there's still no movement. But my intuition tells me that the crew inside are already gearing up for action. Suddenly, thick smoke billows from the roof. My heart skips a beat. Is there a fire inside, or is there a civil war? Upon closer inspection, I realized these guys had actually released smoke grenades, hoping to use the billowing smoke to safely disembark, fearing being sniped by the islanders.

The moment the smoke rose, I focused all my attention, observing many people emerge from the hazy reflections, each carrying different weapons, indicating the enemy had also planned meticulously. The smoke gradually dissipated, and the thirty-odd people on deck disappeared. They must have jumped into the sea and swam towards the island's shore.

Among these guys were experienced veterans. If they rashly paddled ashore in three or five small boats or rafts, I could kill four or five of them the instant they reached the shore.

I locked my sniping range on the coastline covered with thick seaweed, knowing they would first hide there, lying prone for a while, then suddenly run towards the base of the rock face when the opportunity arose. The rain, like silken threads spun by silkworms from high above, no longer obstructed my view. If it were an old-fashioned Leffe, not only would the distance be insufficient for a good shot, but aiming would also be difficult to control.

The seawater was still churning, the coastline swaying violently, and the dark seaweed bubbling with white foam. Without absolute certainty, I couldn't fire lightly. Every bullet fired risked revealing my position, and they would quickly realize I was the only one lying in ambush. Then, the bandits would cheer and shout, treating me like prey, and swarm me.

"Jesus God, open the gates of forgiveness, let restless souls rest in peace on the high platform..." Every time I pulled the trigger, I would recite scripture, not as a plea, but as an invocation of a feeling, a feeling of communicating with the bullets in the chamber, soothing them to find their counterparts.

A crisp "bang" didn't echo in the valley for long before being suppressed by the heavy rain. A lean man wielding an AK-47 had a bloody splatter on his forehead, the gushing blood mixed with thick, white brain matter that slid down his nose. In the instant his eyes rolled back, I fired at another man who was getting up and running, but missed.

From the moment I fired my first shot, these guys, taking advantage of the three-second delay required for sniper rifles—the time difference between the second bullet being deflected by the shrapnel and pulling the trigger again—all sprang from under the seaweed and rushed ashore, crouching behind rocks for cover. In those three seconds of their running, I quickly counted twenty-seven enemies ashore. Of course, not counting the guy I had just killed.

The reason I killed this long-haired, yellow-skinned Southeast Asian man in a red tank top first was because he was lying under the seaweed, half his head sticking out, his hands holding binoculars, observing in my direction. If he could clearly see the terrain around me, he would surely be able to deduce that I was hiding in this area, and then direct the others to use the correct strategy to surround and kill me from two directions. To prevent him from issuing orders that would be extremely detrimental to me, I had no choice but to send him to the high pillar first.

Actually, there was another reason for shooting the man in the red vest: the AK-47 weapon he was carrying. If you were shot in the arm or thigh by a pistol or other submachine gun, you could probably use a red-hot dagger to cut open the flesh, remove the bullet, and apply some medicine to heal.

But the AK-47 was once listed as a banned weapon internationally because its bullets explode upon entering the body, unlike ordinary rifles. The shattered bullet fragments scattered and embedded themselves deep in the flesh, causing blood to gush out from the dark wound. Don't try to remove the bullet fragments from the wound yourself or ask a doctor; it's as difficult as picking up glutinous rice that's been poured into a bowl of rice. Those who are amputated or crippled because of this are considered lucky to survive, which shows how lethal this gun is.

Just as I fired my second shot and missed my next target, a vine wrapped around the barrel of my sniper rifle was suddenly severed by a stray bullet, the bullet striking a large rock beside me. The countless fragments of rock that splattered out made my head ache and go numb even through the thick bear hide. Without thinking, I quickly rolled backward, grabbing the butt of the rifle with my right hand and pulling it back in the instant I was away from the sniper rifle.

My position was 900 meters away from the shore on a slope; a rifle couldn't possibly have fired with such accuracy and force. It must have been a Barrett M82A1 large-caliber sniper rifle bullet fired from the deck. Sure enough, there were snipers lying in ambush on the large ship; after these twenty-eight bandits jumped into the sea, they had actually left a group of snipers to provide cover. The Barrett M82A1 requires two snipers to operate together: one holds the gun and aims, while the other uses precision instruments to test the wind direction and correct for aiming errors.

Luckily, it was raining, and the sea breeze on the island was unpredictable. My camouflage was also excellent; the branches stuck in the ground blocked the view of my head, saving me from certain death. After grabbing my weapon, I crouched and ran rapidly along the rock face at the foot of the slope to the

next similarly camouflaged sniper position. If I couldn't see the sniper team on the deck, I'd have to abandon my ambush on the high ground. The enemy's accuracy was too great to risk my life again. The second camouflage position was lower than the first. As I approached, I immediately dropped to the ground and crawled over like a gecko.

Instead of using the sniper rifle barrel to poke the staked branches, I first removed the bearskin from my body and used a wooden stick to pry it upwards at an angle, like a shadow puppeteer, making the round bearskin look like a person crawling, carefully resting it against the crevice in the rocks. Just as the barrel-like stick pierced through the damp, swaying camouflage branches, "bang!" another bullet struck, embedding itself in the center of the thick bearskin.

"Damn it, I've run into a monster," I cursed inwardly, my fear and tension rising. I lay supine in the hollow behind the rocks, holding my rifle, motionless. I needed to calm myself down and face this battle with a peaceful mind and immense patience.

I usually relieve stress by thinking, carefully recalling the location of the large ship and estimating the enemy's movement speed and the time it would take to surround the high ground. After my mind had calmed down a bit, I took the rifle off my back, slowly pulled the bearskin back on, and ran towards the third camouflaged sniper position.

The enemy on the ship must have already discovered that I was the only sniper on the island. They assumed that I hadn't been hit at the first sniping position and had rolled down the hillside; when they saw me testing the waters with a wooden stick at the second sniping position, they knew that the first shot hadn't killed me. And now, I was preparing to go to the third sniping position.

The terrain of the third sniping position was the lowest of the three camouflaged positions. This time, I didn't use that brand-new sniper rifle, and I used the old method of first carrying the bearskin over, then tying the rifle to the wooden pole, and more carefully poking through the camouflaged branches. The barrel, like a turtle's head, immediately attracted two bursts of fire as soon as it appeared, both hitting the bearskin in the back. If I had been under the bearskin, my spine would have been shattered.

I didn't pull back the rifle and the bearskin, but instead slid down the hillside at high speed, carrying the M25, and circled around the back of the hill, running at full speed toward the gap where we first landed on the island after the shipwreck.

Chapter 42: Chasing the Deceased List

The sniper team on the ship might have signaled to their comrades hiding on the island shore, indicating they should go to the high ground surrounding the forest to search for the bodies of those sniped. Those guys who came ashore with machine guns and rifles must be running towards the direction into the woods. To buy time, I must get back to the forest slope before they reach the vicinity of the high ground and set up an ambush. I can't stray too far from the stone pit where Yi Liang and the others are hiding, otherwise I won't be able to monitor and protect them in time.

In the woods, I ran as fast as I could, carrying my weapon, the rain acting as a lubricant between me and the branches and leaves. When I crossed the high, protruding, gnarled tree roots, my wet arms rubbed against the plants with a "whoosh," and as soon as my feet touched the ground covered with fallen leaves, my feet sprang up and darted forward, not daring to delay for even a moment.

Even though I was only wearing a thin shirt, it reduced the pain from the cuts on my arms and chest. As I ran, I crouched low, like a cheetah chasing a fleeing deer. This not only helped me conceal myself but also effectively increased my speed.

Throughout the rapid run, I kept my eyes half-closed, afraid of being harmed by vines, sap, or poisonous insects if I opened them too wide. The trees ahead gradually thinned out and became shorter and thicker; I knew I had run down the slope, and after passing this grove, I would reach the small woodland where I usually gathered timber. The plants around me flashed past my eyes like those seen through the window of a speeding train. In the whirlwind of my run, I spotted a small tree frog, which the locals called a "wicked toad." I swiftly reached out and grabbed one from a passing bush; it was about the size of an egg in my hand.

Without even glancing at the little creature, I popped it into my mouth and began to chew. The bones inside this small tree frog were fine and brittle, and as I chewed them with my strong teeth, they crunched and squeaked through my cheeks. Once its flesh and sap combine with human saliva, they turn into a paste, at its most extreme, as chewy and pliable as chewing gum.

I didn't do this because I was hungry; chewing raw tree frogs is unpleasant, fishy, astringent, and bitter. Without the camouflage of bearskin vines, fighting naked in the forest with my bronze upper body would make me easily spotted and attract deadly shots.

As soon as my tongue felt the frog meat solidify into a paste, I quickly spat it into my palm, clenched my fist, and used my thumb to pick out some, smearing it on my wet face and forehead for camouflage. This stuff is like non-toxic acrylic, a dark green paste. In the wild, without camouflage paint, this method of chewing can be used, and the color won't easily fade even after being soaked in rain.

During the non-stop run, I chewed eight small tree frogs, covering my chest, back, left and right arms with the sticky, dark green paste, making myself look like I had just finished mud wrestling.

Having smeared my entire upper body with paint that made me look like a green snake, I had already passed through the grove and was running up the valley slope ahead. Unexpectedly, after running such a long distance through the dense forest without being stung by any insects or snakes, halfway up the valley, a multicolored grass snake leaped out from the bushes beside me and bit me tightly through my pants. My right leg immediately felt like it was being pricked by needles.

The snake was over a meter long and as thick as a candle, thankfully non-venomous, but its two thin, sharp fangs were deeply embedded in my calf. The pain enraged me, and I grabbed the snake's triangular, flat head, squeezing its jaws tightly. After slowly prying out the fangs embedded in my flesh, I aimed the snake at a rock, swung it hard, then stepped on its tail with one foot, pulling it taut with the hand gripping its head. Lifting my other foot, I pulled out a dagger from my boot, slashed it in two with a "whoosh," and threw it back into the bushes.

In such damp weather, wounds are easily infected and inflamed if not treated promptly. I found the kind of wound-healing herb Chi Chun had told me about nearby, quickly chewed it, and applied it to the snake bite. I also cut strips of cloth from my pants to use as bandages. After bandaging, I ran towards the valley top, because at this time, the ship's sniper team was still focused on the forest slope area. That sniper must still be basking in the thrill of shooting down the enemy the moment they peeked out.

I had circled around to the distant mountain, away from the bow of the ship; the valley top was covered with broken rocks and low trees. I crouched behind a dense clump of leaves and carefully thrust the sniper rifle's gleaming metal barrel out. The ship's sniper was completely surprised that I had circled to such a distant mountaintop in such a short time.

Looking out through the sniper scope onto the ship's deck, although I couldn't see the entire hatch behind the gun emplacement, I could clearly see two heads peeking out of the hatch. A Caucasian man with short blond hair was chewing gum, his cheeks twitching. Another Caucasian man, also white, was smoking a purple cigar, a smug smile on his face, seemingly talking. The gum-chewing guy looked every bit the seasoned veteran; these two had likely been snipers for years, taking down many of their peers.

I hated their nonchalant expressions, their confident arrogance; they were probably still basking in the satisfaction of hitting their target. To be able to easily discern my motives from that distance, and then fire a bullet with deadly precision, embedding it in the bear's hide, showed they were "Arhat" level killers. This level of sniping skill was strikingly similar to the British snipers I encountered in the Thai jungle years ago. They were likely retired Royal Navy veterans, or perhaps former U.S. Marines.

However, masters often die because of their own superior skills. If the shooting accuracy was exceptional, truly superb, the sense of accomplishment from being at the top would make the two guys complacent. They indeed became careless, ignoring the true meaning of "a cornered dog will jump over a wall." They only knew that when a dog was being beaten and had no way out, it would desperately leap over low fences and dilapidated walls to escape. They didn't know that a cornered hunting dog would jump into a yard and bite.

I was now the opponent who had darted across two groves of trees and jumped into their blind spot. I definitely had to shoot the guy with the gun first, but the other support would escape. My mind was much calmer now, because I had been observing them through the sniper scope for almost two minutes,

my vision fully adjusted to the distance between the bullet and the target. In the blue scope, the "T" shaped crosshair was already aligned with the candy-chewing guy, who was chewing gum vigorously, his temples throbbing as they crossed my crosshair. The cigar-smoking man was shielded to his side, occasionally glancing through his high-precision binoculars at the distant wooded slopes. Finding nothing, he relaxed and resumed his conversation. The men who had come to the island were, after all, neither their relatives nor friends with whom they had a life-or-death matter. They were just a motley crew, competing to see who could kill the most and the most ruthlessly, rather than driven by a sacred sense of mission to protect their comrades.

Just as I muttered the Bible, preparing to kill him, the smoking guy, for some reason, suddenly shifted his position and looked up at the hillside again. His enormous Adam's apple blocked his partner's temple. Seeing him remain motionless in that position, I was afraid he would suddenly look at me.

I knew the penetrating power of my weapon and the skeletal structure of the human body very well. With a "bang," I fired my first shot after being suppressed by snipers on the high ground. A golden-bronze shell, gleaming, jumped out of the barrel and tumbled down the rock wall. In the sniper scope, the two smug snipers lay backward on the deck.

From the top of the valley to the deck of the ship was about nine hundred meters. The bullet passed through the area between the smoker's Adam's apple and his neck, where the cartilage wrapped in nerves and blood vessels did not affect the bullet's force or trajectory. After exiting the cartilage of his Adam's apple, the bullet pierced the gunman's temple and lodged inside his brain.

The guy whose Adam's apple was pierced might have a chance of survival if treated immediately. The guy whose brain was hit died instantly, his head lolling to one side as he lay on the deck, the blood from the wound extremely thick, bubbling with scarlet red gas.

Only the guy whose Adam's apple was shattered was still struggling, his cheeks bulging as he desperately tried to breathe, but oxygen could no longer enter his lungs properly. Red blood, like a pool of melted asphalt, soaked the back of the smoker's head, which was pressed against the deck. This wasn't his own blood, but the blood plasma of his partner who had died before him.

The instant I fired the bullet, I withdrew the barrel and rolled backward to avoid being hit by artillery fire. Only when I retreated fifty meters to the hillside, to a bend where enemy shells couldn't hit in a straight line, did I dare to observe through my sniper scope. But no one came out to rescue the two guys. The people in the cabin must have known that as soon as they got on the deck, they would be shot by sniper rifles from who-knows-where.

Taking out the pair of snipers on the boat who had been holding me back, the feeling of passivity vanished instantly, and I felt much more relaxed. I estimated the bandits who had landed on the island had reached the edge of the woods, and I needed to get back to protect Yi Liang and the others before they reached the higher ground. Of course, I couldn't get lost, or even run into the depressions of the island's basin, because I had no advantage in a rifle duel with them; I would be blinded by their dense, powerful firepower. I would likely be surrounded and riddled with bullets in a very short time.

On the way back, the snake bite wound throbbed, reminding me of the time I went out to gather herbs with Chi Chun—her gentle, charming smile, her tender, bright eyes, and her brown nipples. Thinking of this, my taste buds conjured up the sweet, metallic taste of milk from my memory.

But now, Chi Chun was crouching naked in a rocky pit carved by the rain, the muddy water flowing beneath her feet admiring her exposed genitals. In this moment of desperate peril, was it love or lust that lessened the pain in my body? The rain intensified, and the entire forest began to tremble, the rain pelting the leaves like wisps of smoke rising from an extinguished match.

Chapter 43: The Deadly Encirclement in the Forest

Each time I darted through the dense, overgrown branches, much of the green frog meat smeared on my body was scraped away. I needed to quickly retrieve the bear pelt that had been hit by bullets and disguise myself immediately.

Reaching halfway up the high ground, I looked from my hiding place towards where Yi Liang and the others were concealed. It was still covered by dense branches, untouched.

In my last moments away from them, I had told them that in case of emergency, they should use a thin, leafy stick to poke vertically into the roof of the tent. I would see them in my sniper scope and rush over, but they should only do so as a last resort.

Knowing they were safe now, one of the two taut strings in my heart finally relaxed. Now, all I needed to do was retrieve the discarded bear pelt as quickly as possible, leave the high ground, circle around to the side of the valley slope, and snipe the enemies who were closing in.

But when I retrieved the bearskin and circled around to the right flank of the valley, I saw no sign of the enemy approaching, which puzzled me. Had these guys retreated back to the ship?

I checked the movements on the large ship every two minutes to prevent new snipers from replacing the dead bandits and firing at me.

Now, I dared not easily open the scope of my M25 sniper rifle, fearing the sudden rain would smudge the lens. The distance for combat in the forest is generally around 100 meters, and I still had eight bullets in my rifle, more than enough to shoot enemies within 500 meters. It had taken a

full thirty minutes from when I killed the two enemies on the ship and ran back to the high forest slope, to where I was now lying prone on the side slope. According to my calculations, the bandits should have reached the vicinity of the high ground, but they hadn't made a sound.

I carefully observed the distance in the forest with my sniper scope again, but still couldn't find any trace of the enemy approaching. There was only one possibility: they had gone to the other side of the island, not to fight me.

Regardless of their motives, these guys are absolute menaces. I must take the initiative and eliminate as many of their men as possible before they repair their ship and leave.

The disparity in strength between us and the enemy is vast; I'm unwilling to descend into the woods and fight with submachine guns, using them for area-of-effect attacks. These guys, relying on their superior numbers and ammunition, will swarm and fire wildly at the slightest sign of anything unusual on the branches or under the bushes, preferring to fire a thousand bullets at the slightest possibility of hitting me.

Another twenty minutes passed, and still there was no movement near the high ground. This reminded me of the crocodile's survival strategy: opening its jaws, waiting for its prey to approach or be devoured. These murderous and thieving scoundrels, on this sparsely populated island, have revealed their cowardly nature, afraid to approach the high ground. Twenty-seven ruthless bandits have laid an ambush, trying to force me to search and commit suicide.

I despise their tactics; for me, I must buy time. If they could just stall until the large ship was repaired and anchored in the rainforest on the other side of the island, I wouldn't be able to snipe them, much less swim across the muddy water teeming with crocodiles, pythons, and venomous insects. It was truly a despicable tactic.

Putting away my sniper rifle and gripping my submachine gun, I had no choice but to grit my teeth and head into the woods. Leaves from the tall trees were pelted down by raindrops, falling right before my eyes. I scanned my surroundings intently, advancing cautiously and quickly through the forest, afraid of stepping into an enemy ambush.

Just as I was moving forward carefully, a sudden burst of gunfire erupted ahead. I dropped to the ground with a "whoosh," hearing no whistling of bullets or the crisp sound of trees snapping. The dense foliage overhead wasn't shattered by the bullets, and even the surrounding plants only swayed slightly from the rain.

The bullet wasn't aimed at me, but the gunshot was a huge help. It wasn't clear whether it was an enemy weapon misfire or something else. At least I was certain the enemy was ahead. They deserved to die for making such a commotion just as they were about to meet.

Behind me, a large, crooked tree with huge, dense roots clung tightly to a large rock, like a greedy octopus clutching a loaf of bread. I quickly climbed to the top of the canopy, and behind a dense, fan-like foliage, switched to my Levee sniper rifle and looked towards the source of the gunshot.

A burly jungle leopard was roaring, viciously tearing at something behind a bush. Six burly enemies surrounded it, none daring to approach, trying to scare the ferocious beast away with curses and threats.

The leopard's wet fur, covered like evenly applied gold coins, exuded an aura of dominance. The leopard's rump was thick with flesh, and it was now using its powerful hind legs to tear at the prey's skin and flesh. Its long, spotted tail lashed wildly like a steel rod, scattering and breaking branches and leaves. Even I, watching from a hundred meters away in a tall tree, felt a chill run down my spine, let alone those creatures. The

continuous rain on the island had made it difficult for large carnivores to find food, and this spotted leopard, already starving, had encountered seven burly, bare-skinned men lurking in the woods. Naturally, it intended to attack them.

The gunshots that just rang out were made by the very creature being torn apart by the leopard. They must have been crouching under the tree, intently watching the direction from the high ground, waiting to shoot me dead as I stepped into their ambush like prey.

The wicked are always luckier than the good, but when misfortune strikes, it often brings death. Just like one of those seven, who became the leopard's prey before I even arrived.

"Rat-a-tat-tat, thud-thud-thud." Another burst of gunfire. The crazed leopard howled and screamed, unable to comprehend its demise. How could its sharp teeth and claws, its agile form, possibly defeat a few bandits armed with advanced technology? The leopard's spotted tail stopped thrashing and began to straighten along with its hind legs. Several dark, bloody holes appeared on its coin-like skin, and with the leopard's convulsions and tremors, spurts of blood oozed out, mingling with rainwater and seeping into the thick layer of dead leaves.

Six burly men, now enraged, swarmed forward, some smashing the leopard with their rifle butts, others stabbing it with daggers, venting their fear-fueled rage on the dying leopard.

I wasn't just some wet bearskin-clad spectator risking my life to watch the spectacle; through the red lens of my Raffles sniper rifle, I saw the heads of these six men. I focused on the one wielding an AK-47 butt, smashing the leopard's head, and aimed for the lower-middle back of his head.

A muffled, brief bang was immediately drowned out by the sound of rain. A black hole exploded in the target's cerebellum; he collapsed to his knees on the leopard's carcass. The other five scattered rapidly behind trees, taking cover.

A burst of intense gunfire erupted, bullets whistling like bees, hurtling towards my vicinity. I immediately slid down a tree and ran with lightning speed towards the five enemies' flanks, the leaves behind me splattered like mud by the enemy bullets.

The five men relentlessly suppressed my pursuit with their heavy fire, giving me no chance to turn and fire back. I had to create distance before I could circle around to their rear, and I still didn't know where the other twenty enemies were.

After a rapid run, I only vaguely heard machine gun fire behind me. I then looked to both sides and saw a thicket of bushes on my left. I immediately ducked down and squeezed through the narrow gap underneath, crouching low as I started running in the opposite direction.

The bushes were very dense, covered in thorns, making it unapproachable. I had chosen this spot as a turning point, and thankfully, my thick bearskin protected me, preventing me from being scratched by the thorns while crawling through.

The five men lost me and dared not rush forward recklessly, instead cautiously searching for me step by step. At a distance of eighty meters between us in the dense forest, we passed each other on the same longitudinal line. I circled back to the area where I had shaken them off earlier, slung my gun over my shoulder, and like a koala, gripped the tree trunk with my legs, dug my fingers into the old, gnarled bark, and quickly climbed up.

Crouching against a thick branch, I broke off another branch from behind and used it as cover to further conceal myself. The dark barrel of my sniper rifle extended again, and the scope began scanning back and forth within the range where the five enemies might appear.

As long as these guys continued to move, there was a possibility they would cross the clearing between the tree canopy. I could catch a glimpse of their backs in an instant and fire a bullet right down their spine.

The burly man, shirtless and wearing only a black leather jacket, clutching a machine gun, hunched over, crept forward furtively, thinking he could approach me like a cheetah and kill me.

But he made a fatal mistake, unknowingly wandering into the clearing under the trees. Ignoring the lack of lush tree branches overhead, his muscular body was immediately exposed.

I vaguely remembered this guy; his shoulder muscles and the exposed lower back flesh under his jacket had purplish-black tattoos. Although I couldn't see the full details, I could guess they were Nazi symbols or skulls—human totems used to frighten innocent civilians.

He was the one who had raped the naked cleaning woman after losing money gambling in the cabin. Raindrops pounded on his greasy bald head, sliding off before they could even spray. "Bang!" Another easy shot, the bullet lodged in the upper part of his tailbone.

I had intended to shoot him in the head, but this guy kept his oiled head swaying like a light bulb, appearing and disappearing on his neck. The fearless thuggishness he displayed when raping vulnerable women was a stark contrast to his current cowardly state.

In human skeletal science, a bullet wound to the upper tailbone can cause high-level paralysis, rendering the limbs powerless. I guessed he was the leader, so I deliberately beat him half to death, letting the other four men come and help him up, dragging this heavily wounded man along.

Now I didn't need to move anymore, because the other four didn't know the bullets were coming from behind and mistakenly thought there were two snipers, or even more. Actually, scaring them like this was best, to prevent them from focusing all their attention on me.

Chapter 44: Evil Must Be

Paid For. The bald man was still struggling on the ground, the heavy machine gun already discarded to the side. He twisted one of his thick arms, using his hand to cover his bleeding wound, cursing furiously, "Damn it, damn it!" Four guys, who had been crouching somewhere, immediately started firing wildly at the surrounding trees. I quickly pressed myself against a tree trunk, turning to the side to avoid being hit by the stray bullets.

Actually, these guys didn't know my location; they were using this spray of bullets to scare away the snipers in the trees, so they could take the opportunity to drag the bald man away. Four or five whistling bullets struck the tree trunk and branches in front of me. Fortunately, the damp wood effectively reduced the impact of the bullets, protecting me well.

After the gunfire stopped, I immediately turned around and resumed my sniping posture. The four guys dragged the bald man by the arm like a heavy, dead pig, running towards the cover of the tree.

Just as they were about to disappear under the dense foliage, the last one, a shirtless Southeast Asian man, was shot in the back by me.

After a scream of "Ah!", he immediately collapsed onto the bald man. "Fire, damn it, fire!" the bald man shouted, ordering his men to fire in my direction. The three guys, like madmen, fired a dense barrage of bullets at me.

Branches overhead fell on me like a flock of startled sparrows, the broken branches and leaves scattering like countless steel needles, pricking my entire body with pain. Cold sweat immediately trickled down my forehead and back. I was terrified that the tree trunk in front of me would be pierced by bullets fired with overwhelming force.

Like a large lizard, I clung tightly to the tree trunk until the machine gun fire ceased. After a gust of dust and stones swept through the air, I peeked out from the corner of my eye and saw that the three men had completely dragged the bald leader into cover and had stopped firing. Seizing the opportunity, I quickly slid down from the tree, slung my sniper rifle over my shoulder, switched to a submachine gun, and circled around to the men's rear.

They couldn't move much in the short term, dragging their badly wounded bald leader. Soon, I saw the three men close together with the bald man through a dense thicket of bushes, their eyes scanning their surroundings in fear. I love seeing that expression on the enemy's face. They're like mice crouching in a corner, caught in a cat's clutches. They had a chance to escape, but their fear overwhelmed them, their legs trembling and unable to muster any strength, leading to their deaths.

The pain in his spine contorted the bald man's face, making him look terrifyingly ferocious. He was a dying man; there was no need to care. I crawled on the ground, slowly approaching them. My dark green bearskin camouflaged me, making me look like a pile of withered grass swaying in the wind and rain. These guys were completely consumed by fear, their eyes blinking as they craned their necks to look at the surrounding trees, ignoring the danger moving towards them on the ground.

When I was thirty meters away from them, I stopped crawling, slowly raising the muzzle of my submachine gun, aiming at the three targets. "Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat." A burst of fire, spent cartridges bouncing around like ping-pong balls thrown from a basket. All three enemies were hit.

I quickly got up, maintaining my firing stance, and crouched low as I approached my downed target. Three men lay sprawled beside the bald man; one dark-faced fellow had two gaping wounds in his chest and neck, while the other two had bullets lodged in their heads. Their wounds confirmed their death; no further examination was needed.

The bald man leaned against a tree, his head drooping, still breathing. This state before death resembled an old magpie unable to return to its nest on a winter night, its eyes half-closed. If a child teases or pokes it with a stick, the old bird will perk up a little, but if the teasing stops, it immediately slumps back down.

This massive bald man probably wanted to lift his face to see who had killed him after his arrogant life. But he tried for a long time, but couldn't. Due to excessive blood loss, pain and cold caused his body to convulse uncontrollably.

I had intended to pull out my pistol, press it to his forehead, and finish him off with a single shot. But bullets are precious, and I couldn't waste them in this situation. So I pulled out the dagger from my boot, grabbed his wet, bald head with my left hand, and with a swift motion, slit his throat. I wiped the blood from the blade onto his black jacket and sheathed it. His neck was like a faucet spewing blood, dripping with sin.

After killing these guys, I picked up all their weapons and buried them under a pile of hidden dead leaves. Then I ran towards the dead leopard. The

one who had been killed was a small, muscular man from Southeast Asia. His neck had been torn to shreds by the leopard, and his bulging chest muscles had deep wounds, like the tracks left by an ice pick, filled with blood and rainwater.

Presumably, after the leopard pounced on him, it held on tightly to his throat, and the two were locked in a fierce struggle. His accomplices couldn't fire, afraid of killing the small man, but they also dared not help him. The bald leader, in a moment of impatience, raised his machine gun and opened fire on the two, a swift and decisive blow.

The guy with the AK-47 died easily, a single shot to the back of the head, like a prisoner receiving a death sentence. Their bodies, however, would be left to rot in the wilderness for hungry wild animals to feast on.

I picked up the weapons beside the two corpses and buried them under a nearby pile of dead leaves. I immediately climbed a tall tree. Through my sniper scope, I searched for the remaining twenty bandits. The vast, misty forest stretched as far as the eye could see; even if a gunfight had just taken place, the sound wouldn't carry far.

To observe a wider area, I would have to run to higher ground or a distant valley. I was worried they might circle around to the back of the high ground; if that happened, Yi Liang and the others would be in danger.

Thinking of this, I quickly climbed down the tree and ran towards the back of the high ground. Now it was definitely not advisable to go directly up the high, wooded slope; otherwise, the chances of falling into an ambush were extremely high. If there was another heavy machine gun, placed on a large rock high up, firing a couple of shots at me, even if I skillfully hid in the woods, I would be forced into a situation where I couldn't retaliate or escape.

Half an hour later, I finally reached the middle of the back slope. I hadn't found any trace of anyone walking along the way. But I dared not be careless, so I had to use my sniper scope again to check the large ship by the sea to see if there were any new snipers hiding on the deck.

The sky was overcast at this time, and looking at the ship from the hillside was like looking through layers of mosquito nets; the view was somewhat blurry. I cut off a large banana leaf with my dagger, set up a makeshift tent, and placed it on a tree branch. Then I extended the scope of my M25 sniper rifle under the leaf and opened the scope cap.

The visibility was much better now. There were no snipers on the ship, but from this angle, I couldn't see behind the gun emplacements. I figured the bodies of the two snipers who died simultaneously had been carried back to the cabin or thrown into the sea.

These guys, though human, were brimming with malice, like crocodiles in a swamp. If their comrades had bloody wounds or turned into flesh, they would swarm around them without a second thought, satisfying their lust.

Seeing that there were no snipers on the ship, I could freely use the terrain to kill those who came ashore from a distance. In the blue reflection, Yi Liang and the others' camouflage was intact, without any vertical branches sticking out. But I still didn't know where the other twenty guys were. Now I could only climb a little higher and look into the swamp. On the battlefield,

the worst thing is not knowing the enemy's movements. The recent rains had made the hillside slippery, with large boulders constantly tumbling down with the mudflow. If I weren't paying attention while concentrating on shooting the enemy, my back bones would be crushed.

After passing the halfway point, climbing further became extremely difficult. The terrain was very steep, and I had to grab onto the exposed tree roots washed away by the rain to try and climb. One slip, or if the root I was holding snapped, I'd tumble down, gun and all.

This wasn't soft, flat grass; the slope was strewn with large, jagged rocks. If someone tumbled down and hit their head on a rock, the injury would be almost as severe as being shot in the head by a sniper rifle—it would be fatal.

Finally, I reached the highest point along the slippery cliff. I dared not raise my head, fearing I'd be spotted by the enemy below. If they opened fire now, I wouldn't be able to retreat in time, or I'd tumble down like those boulders.

I braced myself against an exposed tree root with one foot, then hooked the back of my foot onto another root, allowing me to lie on my side at the top of the slope. Slowly, I parted the leaves in front of me and thrust the gun barrel forward. Through the sniper scope, I first peered into the large mudflat in the distance. There were only fallen trees and craters

from the previous night's bombing; I saw no one. As my scope focused on the distant cave, a plume of black smoke rose from the entrance, and two blond foreigners with pirate-like beards fell to the ground. The others quickly ducked behind the crater near the cave entrance. Now I understood: these twenty-seven guys were splitting up.

One group of seven was responsible for searching the high ground on the hillside. The other twenty were divided into two groups; one group of ten went to search the end of the island. Although I didn't know where the last group of ten had gone, I was certain they weren't nearby.

Among the group that searched the cave, there must have been a sniper. He must have spotted our wooden wall from a high vantage point, so instead of spreading out and slowly approaching, all ten of us rushed towards it.

When the women and I left the cave, we guessed that someone would discover us and search inside. So, we strung a piano string at the entrance, attaching it to the trigger of a grenade we'd brought from our pockets.

Unexpectedly, the guys in that group, after slowly surrounding the entrance, first sprayed bullets inside. The two blond guys at the front each pulled a grenade from their chest straps, exchanged a sinister smile, and threw it into the cave together.

After two loud "booms," the two guys rushed in like they were grabbing a reward, only to step on the grenades and both die instantly.

Chapter 45: The Sniper in the Courtyard

Seeing this situation, I couldn't help but feel a surge of joy. The cave was like bait, luring the ten guys into the exposed island basin. As long as I stood on higher ground within firing range and started sniping, they would have difficulty taking cover and would be firmly pinned down in the valley. However, I had to reach another valley and control them before they left the vicinity of the cave.

Perhaps I was in a bit of a hurry, because when I carefully climbed down the slope, I did break a tree branch. Fortunately, I managed to pull out two long daggers in time, plunged them into the mud, and like a praying mantis sliding down a slide, I dug my two sharp pincers into the ground, increasing friction and preventing myself from losing my balance.

After safely getting down, many vines on the bearskin had broken off. As I ran quickly towards the valley ahead, whenever any vines brushed past me, I used my daggers to cut them off and weave them onto the camouflaged bearskin.

The rain probably wouldn't stop until nightfall. Running long distances at high speed to kill these enemies who landed on the island had already exhausted my strength and energy. I took out some dried roasted meat from the python skin bag that Chi Chun had sewn for me and ate it to let my stomach absorb some of the food's calories and nutrients to replenish my strength.

The dried meat was hard and tasteless, a far cry from the roasted meat I'd risked my life to eat in the cabin last night. Fresh meat, when roasted, was alright, but the dried meat, dried by the scorching sun and left for so long, while not bad in quality, had lost much of its flavor, making it taste like chewing mud. The reason I was forcing my taste buds to adapt to this dried meat was a necessity for survival.

If this battle continued for days, food would become scarce, and I might end up eating real mud. Since escaping the mercenary group, I hadn't tasted chewing gum for six years. The two guys on deck, dying while enjoying candy and cigars during the battle, were somewhat comforting.

Thinking about these consumer goods made my fatigue less noticeable. After passing the middle of the valley, I couldn't run straight up anymore, or I'd be spotted by the snipers below.

Crouching as I ran up to the top of the valley, I carefully passed the barrel of my rifle out from behind a thick clump of branches to observe the enemy's movements.

Thick smoke billowed from the cave, and the wooden planks on the pit at the entrance had been overturned and thrown aside. It wasn't hard to tell that these guys were roasting our captive trout. Typical bandit nature; seeing something that could satisfy their desires, they didn't care who its owner was, and disposed of it however they pleased.

The sniper rifle couldn't penetrate the cave from this position. However, I would never approach the entrance, lying prone on the rocky roof where the wooden cages used to catch leopard cats had been placed, and shoot inside. In such a tense and dangerous moment of combat, even the most foolish enemy wouldn't be so arrogant as to dare to use an open flame to roast food in a narrow, cramped cave. I guessed they were just creating this foolish illusion.

I quickly zoomed in on the M25 sniper rifle, scanning the area around the smoking entrance for any suspicious targets. When the scope scanned the wooden wall, I saw a knee tightly encased in dark jeans through a gap. As expected, they were lying in ambush, waiting for me, the mantis, to pounce on the cicada, only to become the oriole that hunts me down.

Perhaps these wicked bandits, having slaughtered too many men and women lacking combat skills, had somehow atrophied their own intelligence for fighting; otherwise, they wouldn't be so naive as to lure me in this way.

The guy in jeans was mostly obscured by the large rock under the wooden wall, making it impossible for me to hit his vitals. At best, I could shatter his kneecap, crippling him for life. More importantly, I couldn't see his weapon. If he wasn't the sniper, my shot could easily be followed by a sniper's bullet piercing my forehead.

Even if they killed me, they would still have won, because I was the only man on the island, the only one who could fight them to the death. I began carefully searching for the sniper in this group through my scope. I was familiar with the environment around the cave ceiling; finding anything unusual shouldn't be difficult.

The small waterfall over the ravine was releasing more water than usual, its cascading flow resembling a white curtain. But now, something was amiss. The curtain split slightly in the middle, and upon closer inspection, a black gun barrel protruded about ten centimeters.

It was clear that an enemy was standing behind the waterfall, gun in hand. Judging from the exposed muzzle, it was a medium rifle, not a sniper's weapon. Moreover, snipers typically choose high positions for straight-line firing; they wouldn't be hiding in such a vulnerable spot.

Suddenly, the surface of the waterfall rippled. I quickly peered through my scope behind the wooden wall above the waterfall. Beneath the wall, made of woven wooden sticks, were stacked stones of uniform height, but now, a dark object stood out starkly in the middle. I figured this must be the sniper's position.

I adjusted the scope again, and through the magnified image, I could clearly see a person in a green shirt peeking out from between the wooden sticks, their right hand on the trigger, ready to fire at any moment.

Slightly to the left and upwards from where he pointed, there was a small, shiny, round lens. This guy was using the same M25 sniper rifle as me. He hadn't extended the barrel too far out of the wooden wall; the gleaming black muzzle was just wedged in the gap between the planks. From this angle, hitting him directly in the head or heart was impossible.

We were at different heights. If a bullet were to penetrate his sniper lens, it would only damage his weapon, but wouldn't allow the bullet to pass through the scope's tube and directly blind his left eye. Of course, given the penetrating power of this rifle, the bullet wouldn't stop after damaging his eyeball; it could continue to penetrate into the skull and brain matter.

"Bang, bang," after I fired a bullet, the other sniper rifle fired a shot. The sniper on the waterfall hadn't spotted me; I had shot off his index finger hooked on the trigger. The sudden pain caused his own sniper rifle to fire, but unfortunately, the bullet flew into that unfortunate tree and was lost forever.

Three seconds after the first shot, "bang!" another shot, and three seconds later, "bang!" a third shot. In ten seconds, I fired three shots. Although I couldn't see the guy hiding behind the waterfall, I could imagine his stance—his gun-holding posture—from the position of the gun barrel protruding from the water. To increase the probability of a hit, I fired a shot at the middle of his upper body.

The third bullet ripped through the knee of

his jeans. Like the sniper on the waterfall, he screamed frantically after being hit and quickly pulled back, curling up behind a large rock. The guy hidden by the waterfall didn't move; after being shot, the gun barrel protruding from the waterfall fell down. Whether it hit his heart or not, he was definitely hit.

In this chaos, I couldn't observe the movements of the other five men, guessing they might have split up again. The sniper on the waterfall must be clutching his bloodied left hand, grieving the sudden loss of his index finger. His severed finger, shattered by the sniper bullet, splintered into the waterfall below, its bloody, fleshy fragments spilling from the cracks in the plank. If any trout remained in the crater, they would surely swarm and devour it; for these creatures at the bottom of the food chain, tasting fresh human flesh was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

No matter how skilled a sniper this man had been in the past, from this moment on, he would no longer be able to hold his weapon steady, let alone control his precise aim. The instant his finger was struck, he realized the tragedy, hesitating to pull his sniper rifle off the plank.

These people had no convictions; they committed heinous acts, and their resilience in the face of setbacks was weak. Even if he returned alive to the ship today, he would likely have no reason to be arrogant and complacent, gambling and womanizing in his cabin.

The man with his shattered kneecap remained hidden under the wooden wall of the courtyard, frantically waving his hands, seemingly beckoning the snipers above the waterfall to return fire, trying to alleviate his anger and fear. This guy would share the same fate as the sniper with the severed finger; he should have known he was done for. Like a crocodile badly wounded in a swamp, his companions could swarm and bite him at any moment. Perhaps

the shattered kneecap had driven him mad with pain. Seeing that the sniper on the waterfall hadn't responded, he waved to his comrades lying in ambush beside him, signaling for someone to come and rescue him, to find a way to get him back to the boat and treat his wounds.

"Rat-a-tat-tat," several shots rang out, and he was shot dead by his own men behind a large rock. Clearly, the other comrades were terrified by the situation, afraid of being hit by the ghostly bullets. Seeing the man with the shattered kneecap waving and calling out to them, partly because the noise confused their fear, and partly because they thought he had revealed their position, they simply shot him dead in a fit of anger.

When they arrived on the island, they were all menacing, but from their current carelessness, it's easy to imagine that most of the enemies mistook me for a hunter who could shoot, or a savage.

Accustomed to bullying docile and peaceful ordinary people, they were caught off guard and unable to adapt when they suddenly encountered me, a retired mercenary assassin, on this deserted island. They were attacked without warning. The people in the courtyard dared not move anymore. Since they had not split into groups again, I had to find a way to eliminate them all as quickly as possible, without letting any live to report back.

Two full hours passed, and I remained motionless atop the distant valley, aiming at the targets hiding inside the courtyard. From a psychological perspective, the enemy, under such fear, was most prone to losing patience and developing illusions.

As long as they fantasized that the distant sniper had retreated and shouldn't have stubbornly held their position, they would begin to stir, trying to slip out through the wooden gate of the courtyard, run into the dense woods, find a concealed spot to hide until nightfall, and then frantically run to the boat.

From my position, I could clearly see where Yi Liang and the others were hiding; no enemy had approached. This way, I could patiently wait for the guys in the courtyard to expose themselves and be killed.

Chapter 46: The Bearskin for Survival

Another half hour passed, and the door in the middle of the wooden wall began to shake, but no one pushed it open. Only the surface of the puddle below the door shook violently. I understood; these fearful guys wanted to sneak out through the puddle below, afraid to push open the door directly.

I immediately aimed my sniper scope at the area below the door. Three drenched men, long guns slung across their shoulders, emerged from the water. Gasping for breath, they had clearly nearly suffocated after being trapped underwater in the wooden cage.

They looked around nervously, and only when they saw no bullets coming did their fear subside slightly. They hurriedly called for help from inside the courtyard. Although their words were inaudible, it was clear they were calling for their leader to come out. At that moment, a fat man with a ponytail, after grumbling for a long time underwater, finally managed to climb to the surface with great effort, his swollen, purple face resembling a large, bloated eggplant. The

four men were still shaken. Just as three of them were about to help their fat leader, who was still half-submerged, I fired four shots in quick succession. "Bang!" A henchman covered in mud exploded in a purple spray of blood from his chest, dying instantly. Seeing the situation was dire, the fat man, like an electrocuted turtle, swiftly shoved his half-submerged back into the water.

The other two henchmen, thinking they were safe, were suddenly struck by a deadly bullet that killed one of their accomplices. Panicked, they didn't know what to do. Ignoring that the fat man underwater was their leader, they both dove into the pit like frogs.

"Bang, bang!" Two more shots followed, hitting their ribs. The bullets, like powerful kicks, sent them both into the water.

The pit under the gate wasn't very large, and I was on higher ground, allowing the bullets to deflect evenly into the bottom. "Bang, bang, bang, bang!" Another four shots. Because the fat man with the ponytail was already crouching in the water, I couldn't see his body and could only fire at possible underwater positions.

A surge of blood immediately appeared on the surface of the pit, like a scarlet lotus flower suddenly blooming from the bottom, blossoming on the surface of the falling raindrops. A moment later, a thick, fleshy back floated to the surface. The fat man was dead.

The fat man and his gang, who had been lying in ambush by the courtyard wall, couldn't communicate with the sniper at the top of the waterfall. If the sniper had been with them, he certainly wouldn't have let them foolishly come out to their deaths.

Unfortunately, the fat man was cowardly and had a bureaucratic temper, recklessly ordering his henchmen out to test their shots, resulting in the deaths of all four.

The sniper at the waterfall remained motionless. I was certain he wasn't dead, but he was at least too scared to move. He knew that a sniper's patience was beyond human comprehension, so he preferred to starve behind the rocks rather than risk being shot.

The last bandit was unlikely to be alive either; otherwise, he would have already fled with his henchmen.

The enemy at the cave entrance was now powerless to retaliate. I quickly looked through my sniper scope towards the large mudflat, but still couldn't see any movement. The sun was setting, and the sky was gradually turning red.

The bearskin covering my body felt like a rag soaked in swill, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable. Thinking back to the days when I warmed myself by the fire in the cave, and could even sleep for a while on a dry bearskin, I felt truly blessed.

Tonight, I knew I'd have to find a few banana leaves on this valley roof to shelter from the rain and make do for the night.

Nighttime was much safer for me and the women than daytime. The enemy wouldn't dare to wander the island in the dark; they were afraid of dying at my hands and being eaten by the wild animals in the forest.

"Boom boom boom, boom boom boom!" Oh no! Fire started shooting from the ship in the distance, bombarding the high ground in the woods. I immediately raised my sniper scope, using the last glimmer of light before darkness to get a better look. This observation only confused me more. Without thinking, I jumped up and ran frantically towards the high ground. The

rapid, urgent "boom boom boom" of the cannons lashed at my anxious heart like whips urging me on. Reaching the vicinity of the high ground, I could clearly feel the forest trembling; the further I ran, the clearer the tremor became. Many large rocks on the high ground tumbled down with a whooshing sound, like bulls facing a provocation.

The situation was worsening; the large ship had been bombarding the high ground for nearly half an hour without stopping, likely employing carpet bombing. "Boom!" Another shell flew in with a whooshing sound, knocking down a large tree thirty meters to my right.

Reaching the pit where Yi Liang and the others were hiding, I didn't rush forward. Crouching ten meters away, I softly called out, "Yi Liang, Chi Chun, Lu Ya. Are you alright? Don't be afraid, I'm approaching." Then, I anxiously awaited their reply. "Ah, we're alright, how are you?" came the excited and eager responses from the three women inside the pit.

"I'm fine, are you conscious? I'm coming closer, please don't shoot, keep your guns down." I shouted to them as I crouched down and slowly approached. Fearing being hit by shrapnel from the surrounding shells, and also wary of the women firing at me out of excessive tension, or their weapons accidentally discharging,

I hurriedly moved aside the branches used to cover them. Under the massive bear skin, three women sat on broken branches. The rain hadn't soaked them too much, and their pretty faces had just begun to brighten from fear and anxiety.

I jumped into the pit and lifted them out one by one. "Don't stand up, squat on the ground," I instructed them as I carried them. After they were out, I quickly covered the pit again to prevent the enemy from discovering that we had been hiding there.

"Did the bad guys find our location?" Lu Ya asked worriedly. "No, but they can rely on luck." I said expressionlessly, swinging the giant bear skin to cover the three women huddled together. As soon as the baby emerged from the pit, he cried in Chi Chun's arms, apparently frightened by the explosions.

Chi Chun looked at me anxiously because of the child's cries. "Let him cry. With such a dense barrage of shells, there won't be any enemies nearby," she said, finally relaxing a little. We crouched and ran down the slope together.

Suddenly, a piercing scream rushed towards us, like an eagle swooping down from the sky. I knew what was happening, and quickly covered my head with my arms, pressing the three women down beneath me. With

a loud thud, a huge, muffled explosion sent leaves, twigs, dirt, and stones flying everywhere. I felt like my head had suddenly plunged into water; for a moment, I couldn't hear anything and entered a silent world.

My brain was numb as if from alcohol, but some consciousness still lingered: "Get forward quickly, get off the high ground, or we'll be blown to bits too." The three women stared at me with wide, terrified eyes, slapping my chin. I could only see their mouths moving, but I couldn't hear what they were saying.

Stumbling and staggering, we finally escaped the high ground, immediately straightened up, and ran through the woods.

"Where do we go now?" Chi Chun asked me. Only then did I vaguely hear a woman's voice; it seemed the shell hadn't deafened me. When Chi Chun asked me, she sounded like a family member of a prisoner awaiting sentencing, afraid I really couldn't hear her. She asked for another reason: to remind me that everyone was running towards the cave.

"Back to the cave," I said sullenly, then pulled them along, quickening our pace. The three women didn't understand the purpose of returning to the cave. When they first hid in the pit, they thought they would be inside for three days and three nights, or even longer. They never expected me to lead them back to the cave so quickly.

As we approached the wooden wall, I had the three women crouch in concealed spots and placed some dry branches and leaves on top of the huge bear skin to camouflage it. Then, I took my submachine gun and approached the wall.

I didn't go directly into the courtyard; I listened to the sounds inside first. Once I confirmed it was safe, I pulled the four corpses out of the pit under the wooden door. I then used a dagger to cut a stick from the wooden ladder and used it to poke the wooden cage at the bottom of the pit.

Just as I expected, when these ten men arrived near the wooden wall during the day, they didn't rashly break down the courtyard gate and barge in. Instead, they crawled through the pit under the door. As a result, the trap I had set underwater to catch wild leopards and boars trapped the first henchman who crawled in and drowned.

My accomplices above the pit, unaware of what was going on, thought the guy who went in to scout was playing hide-and-seek. After a barrage of vicious curses, they crawled down to find out what had happened. The vines binding the cage had been cut in many places with the broadsword, no longer able to stop people from passing underwater.

I quietly called Yi Liang and the others over, telling them to hide under the wooden wall, each holding a branch to cover their bodies, before I confidently dived into the water pit and entered the courtyard.

The guy on the waterfall probably wanted to sneak down and escape after dark. Unfortunately, his left hand was crippled, and descending from a height of over ten meters with only his right hand was no easy feat.

Holding my submachine gun, I quietly approached the waterfall and hid behind a large rock. "Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat." I deliberately fired at the rock under the wooden wall by the waterfall, hoping to scare him.

"Do not shoot, I listen to you, for you, as long as I live, what I have to do, is here to help you." Hearing this guy's broken English, he must be French. The gist was: "Don't shoot, I'll listen to you, please, I'll do anything to keep you alive."

This reminded me, so I replied in English, "Hands behind your head, you're surrounded. Slowly walk out, don't make any unnecessary movements, or we'll all shoot you." While shouting this at the cowardly sniper, I aimed my gun at his head. Actually, telling

him about being surrounded and threatened with being shot was purely to scare him and prevent him from playing any tricks. I was also afraid; what if this guy had suicidal thoughts and threw a grenade or something? That would be the end of everything.

The guy in the green uniform, hands covering the back of his head, trembled as he emerged from the waterfall.

"Stand still at the top of the cave, don't look around. If you want to live, obey me."

Chapter 47: Releasing the Sinful Soul

He could have escaped, but he dared not take the risk. Now, with me holding a gun to him, he still couldn't avoid having one hand fall down. I kept putting pressure on him, stifling his potential resistance. "Grab the hemp vine hanging from the wooden door and slowly climb down."

When he was halfway down, I shouted again, "Don't move anymore, just hang there, or I'll kill you." This made him even more uncomfortable, hanging precariously on the trellis like an overgrown green cucumber.

Due to his weight, he had to use one hand to hold onto the hemp vine tightly. His badly injured hand kept trying to grab, but as soon as he exerted force, blood gushed from his severed finger, and he could only howl and give up again and again.

Seeing his grimacing pain, I quickly called Yi Liang and the others into the courtyard. When they came in, perhaps seeing many corpses, they seemed very frightened and hurriedly ran into the cave. The guy hanging on the hemp vine was almost exhausted by now, so I said to him, "You can climb down now."

As soon as I finished speaking, he immediately gripped the vine tightly with his legs, squeezing it into his arms like a monkey on a stalk, and slid down to the ground, falling hard onto the rock with a scream.

"Don't make a sound, get in the cave, quick!" I said, raising my foot as if to kick him in the chin. He immediately crouched up, hunching over as he crawled into the cave, startling the three women.

The cave was dimly lit, and fearing he might try to trick me in the darkness, I told him, "Don't go too far in. Lie flat on the ground, hands behind your head, and reveal all the weapons you're carrying. If you leave out even half a toothpick, I'll smash your head."

True to his romantic nature, seeing how alert I was, he thought his chances of survival were in the air and quickly did as I said, very obediently.

Night was falling, and I needed to hurry to get the whereabouts of the ten bandits who had disappeared on the island during the day.

"Twenty-eight of you came aboard the ship. Divide them into three groups according to the number seventy-eight. Where are the other ten groups? Don't rush to answer. Think carefully before you decide whether you want to live or not. If you utter even the slightest lie, I'll shoot your heels through and make you crawl on this island like a tortoise for the rest of

your life." To break down his defenses, I deliberately spoke with a menacing tone. "I'm willing to serve you and help you eliminate them. Please remember that carefully." This guy suddenly became devout, which startled me. My expression initially matched his eccentricity, showing satisfaction, but my wariness only increased.

"The other group went behind the big mudflat to move things; they didn't come this way at all." Hearing this, I finally understood why the big ship bombed the forest highlands. It was probably because those ten men returned to the ship at dusk, and seeing their companions hadn't returned, they knew something was wrong and used the bombing as a deterrent, warning the islanders to stop.

"What did you move? How much? When did you leave?" To get him to tell the truth, I softened my tone.

"I really don't know, really. I wouldn't dare lie to you. Only Boss Canggui and a few other leaders know. We were just following orders."

It was clear he wasn't beating around the bush. If it were truly important items, it would be a lie for a lowly henchman to reveal the truth.

"What do you think it is? Weapons? Drugs? Or gold?" I continued in a consultative tone, making us look more like undercover agents meeting than enemies.

"It's unlikely to be weapons or drugs. The large ships have a lot of those things hidden in their cargo holds. Maybe it's gold, otherwise Boss Canggui wouldn't be so sensitive as to hide it on such a primitive island." "

Oh! Gold is very likely? How many boxes were hidden, and how much did each box weigh?" After saying this, I waited for his reply while considering how to deal with him. "Less than ten boxes. They were originally buried in the rocks near the big mudflat, but were dug up by wild monkeys in the rainforest."

"Wild monkeys? What kind of monkeys? Are you telling a fairy tale?" I asked

, a hint of displeasure in my voice. He immediately realized his vague language was of little use and hastily added, "Short savages, ferocious by nature. They eat anything with flesh and blood except their own kind."

"You mean killing the natives when you say hunting?" "No, if you saw those things, you'd shoot them too, unless you wanted to become their food." Chi Chun, standing nearby, seemed to understand something and became somewhat nervous.

"Cannibals? I've seen them, and I've killed them. Compared to the weapons you have, they're just man-eating rabbits, nothing serious." He said this to try and extract more information from the guy, and also to reassure Chi Chun beside him.

"They have long wooden tubes, and the poisonous darts they blow are accurate and far-reaching. What's even more terrifying is that these little beasts attack in astonishing numbers, forming hordes of black, a truly horrifying sight. Moreover, they don't understand the meaning of death; the more they're beaten, the more enraged and ferocious they become."

The guy's words were so horrifying that I couldn't help but feel a chill. Having experienced the crocodiles in the deep mud before, I imagined that if they could also attack from a distance and were poisonous, I probably would have been prey long ago, even if I had hidden on the rocks and trees.

“Get up slowly, take off your clothes, down to your underwear. What you said was very helpful to me, so I'll let you go.” The dull words had barely left my mouth when the man looked at me with suspicious blue eyes.

“Hurry up, don't wait for me to change my mind.” Another light, yet weighty, urging. He understood, immediately revealing a trusting smile, nodding to me, then to the women behind him, thanking everyone in the cave for sparing his life.

I led him to the courtyard exit; the door was locked. The rain continued to fall, but the light now illuminated the darkness, allowing us to vaguely see each other's faces within five meters.

“Crawl out under the puddle, and you'll be free.” As soon as I finished speaking, the man immediately turned and knelt on the ground. "No, I won't leave. You'll shoot as soon as I go into the water. Please, don't do this! War has robbed us of our humanity, trust, and compassion. I want to serve you. Please take me in."

His thin face, framed by blue eyes, revealed a handsome young man. Tears streamed down his face as he deliberately showed me his maimed fingers, indicating he was no longer lethal and couldn't commit further atrocities, or he'd be a cripple back on the ship anyway.

"I won't shoot. You go. I won't stop you." Seeing my unwavering resolve, he knew further entanglement would be pointless, so he quickly lay down, stretching his hind legs into the puddle. "Just as he turned around, about to take a deep breath and dive down, I suddenly crouched down, grabbed his golden hair with my left hand, and with my right hand, like a viper's tail, pulled out the dagger from my riding boot and slashed it across his neck.

To make his departure easier, I pushed him completely into the icy stream. Five minutes passed, and he finally showed no signs of struggling.

Actually, after asking those questions in the cave, I wanted to shoot him in the head, but I didn't want the three women to see me kill someone, so I took him to the waterhole to finish him off.

His soul finally broke free." The shackles of sin can now be shattered on this vast island. I didn't lie to him; I said I wouldn't shoot, nor would I spare anyone. If killing him like this is considered deception, then compared to these scoundrels who wear human skin yet harm their own kind, how much more sinful is that?

If I let him go back, I'm afraid Yi Liang and the others will die in the cave before dawn. And, well, right now, I'm in trouble too, very weak.

I must kill him, and he must die too. Once you come to this island, everyone is destined to risk their lives. His current remorseful pleas for mercy are because he has fallen into… As prey, if it had been me instead of him who was sniped during the day, while these beasts were defiling Yi Liangchi, Chunluya, and the other two women, he would have joined in the rape as a hero. The

reason I've survived this long is because I ruthlessly suppress any information about my own power. Of course, this only applies to organized crime. More importantly, I can't risk the lives of three women for my own mercy.

The nearby corpses must be dealt with quickly, otherwise they will cause danger at night. I dragged them into the stream, to prevent these stiff bodies from getting stuck. Or they would hang on, stripping off all their clothes so their naked bodies could be carried far downstream by the current, hopefully attracting hungry beasts in the forest to avoid disturbing us at night.

After washing the blood-stained clothes clean in the stream, I returned to the cave. Luckily, there was plenty of dry firewood inside. I piled some dry leaves on top, then ruffled the ashes from the fire to expose the charcoal underneath.

Then, using the old method, I took a rifle bullet from the python skin bag, shaved it open with a dagger, poured the gunpowder onto a hard pebble, and pulled out my pistol.

"You all crouch behind the big rock and cover your ears." The three women, knowing my intention, quickly crouched down beside me. Luya covered her ears with her small hands, peeking out with half her head, curiously watching how the fire started.

With a "bang," the gunpowder on the stone ignited. Just as the warm firelight filled the cave, I could no longer hold on, collapsing backward and passing out.

When I awoke, it was midnight, and I found myself lying naked on the rubber raft. A warm strip of cloth covered my head, and the three women, their eyes wide with surprise, called out to me.

The pain in my left arm reminded me that I was still alive. In the stone basin by the fire, the water was already boiling. "You've been shot; you have a slight fever." "It was Chi Chun," her soft, fragrant voice drifted into my ears.

My head was lifted by three soft hands, and some herbal soup was poured into my mouth. Thinking back now, I am truly grateful to Chi Chun, this meticulous woman. In such harsh conditions, to be able to drink sun-dried herbs and to have the care of three gentle women made all the hardships seem so insignificant. There is an old saying in great and civilized China that is true: "A woman can bring down a country or a city."

Chapter 48: A Few Seconds of Anesthesia

"Chi Chun, take out my dagger and heat it over a fire. I need to remove the shrapnel from my shoulder." After saying this, I closed my eyes again.

After a moment, Chi Chun told me with tears in her eyes, "The dagger is heated." She gestured for Lu Ya and Yi Liang to kneel side by side on the rubber raft, and dragged my head to rest against it.

"Don't move, I'll do the operation," Chi Chun said, choking back tears, and then put a wooden stick to my mouth so that I could bite down on it to relieve the pain. "No, I'll do it myself." I held out my right hand, wanting her to give me the dagger.

"Trust me, it will hurt a lot if you cut yourself," Chi Chun still refused to hand over the dagger. "I'm used to it." "After saying that, I looked at Chi Chun with a determined gaze. Seeing that she couldn't be persuaded, she reluctantly handed over the knife.

The wound on my left shoulder was already a dark bruise, like a purple rose, with black blood pooling in the crack. This was from the shell that had temporarily deafened me when I was escaping on the high ground.

Luckily, I was wearing a bearskin, otherwise the shrapnel would have pierced my bone. I gritted my teeth and began to plunge the scalding tip of the knife into the wound. A sharp, piercing pain swept through my body, causing me to convulse.

Lu Ya and Yi Liang's tears kept dripping onto my face, and in my blurred consciousness, I couldn't distinguish which were my own beads of sweat.

To my surprise, Chi Chun's eyes were filled with tears, and her beautiful face showed stubbornness. Suddenly, her jade-like arms removed the only thing she wore on her upper body: a sheepskin vest. A snow-white, plump leg stepped over my body." She placed her woman's private parts on my manhood.

Tears streaming down her face, she slowly twisted her snow-white hips, pressing the soft pubic hair between them together.

Although the pain in my shoulder lingered, I felt my blood boiling. The eel-like thing between my legs resisted more fiercely the more it was squeezed, thrusting upwards frantically, eager to find that slippery passage.

Chi Chun's sensitive spot quickly sensed my arousal. She skillfully lifted her round, full buttocks slightly, withdrew one of her jade-like arms from my lower abdomen, and her nimble, white fingers grasped the restless eel, guiding it into her warm, moist woman's gate, letting it run wild inside.

I hadn't been this intimate with a woman's body in a long time. That eel-like thing was incredibly sensitive; my nerves were sending electric-like pleasure through me, intensely stimulating me.

"Quick, quick, remove the shrapnel." "Chi Chun, panting softly as she moved her shapely hips, spoke to me. Her beautiful brows furrowed and relaxed with the intensity of the thrusting of the object inside her.

Chi Chun's wet lower body seemed to sense my impending climax, reminding me to complete the procedure within those few seconds.

Just as I was about to ejaculate into Chi Chun's caressing opening, the tip of the dagger pierced the rotting flesh of the wound, cutting downwards with a combination of speed and slowness.

With a clang, I tossed the dagger, now used to cut the wound, onto the ground. My right thumb and forefinger separated the blade, revealing the edge of a metal shrapnel resembling a broken tortoise shell.

I brought my mouth close, biting down hard on the blood-soaked edge of the shrapnel, and jerked my head to pull it out."

At that moment, I felt excruciating pain and climax simultaneously, an indescribable sensation. I felt as if I had been cleaved in two, one half going to heaven, the other plunging into hell.

Grabbing a shaved bullet casing, I sprinkled the black powder onto the wound. Chi Chun, also in a frenzy, turned and grabbed a small twig with a flickering flame, shoving it into my trembling hand.

The flame touched the powder on the wound, and with a "boom," a bright flash erupted. In that instant, I clearly felt my entire body slam heavily onto the floor of the deepest part of hell.

When I awoke again, a fierce storm raged outside the cave. The howling wind whipped the island's trees like fighting shrewish women, tearing at each other's hair.

Lu Ya was the first to notice I was awake. She immediately knelt before me, her cold little hands touching my forehead, afraid I would fall back asleep. The women had kept watch over me all night, and when they saw me open my eyes, they almost jumped for joy. "Are you feeling better?" Lu Ya asked anxiously. Yi Liang tugged at Lu Ya, signaling her not to talk to me and disturb my recovery.

Since I had opened my eyes, it meant I was much better, and everyone could see that. Lu Ya's eagerness to ask was also an expression of her concern. The bandages on my shoulders were thick, but they weren't white medical gauze; they were scraps of cloth torn from the clothes I had brought back.

"The bandages on your wound have been boiled in the stone basin. As long as the wound doesn't come into contact with rainwater, the infection rate is very low," Chi Chun explained, tears welling in her eyes again.

"Are you hungry? Eat something," Yi Liang said, holding a grilled, golden-brown trout to my nose. The aroma of the cooked food immediately made my stomach rumble.

I definitely needed to eat, and to boost my immunity and speed up my recovery, I ate two trout in one go.

"How many trout are left in the pit?" Lu Ya loved mentioning trout; she usually picked tender grass to feed those dull-witted creatures. "There are still fifty or sixty left. Do you want more? I'll go catch a few more and roast them for you." Before I could answer, Luya was already poised to rush out of the cave in the rain.

"No, I'm full. These trout can feed us for three or four days. You didn't sleep well all night, so get some rest now. The enemy won't be coming right now; they're busy repairing the big ship and moving the gold. That's far more important than persecuting us, so no trouble will come knocking for a while."

The three women smiled knowingly and relaxed. It had indeed been a hard night. While taking care of me, who was unconscious, they steamed and boiled the clothes I had brought back. Then they used long wooden poles to build a tall rack over the fire. By now, the damp clothes were almost dry on it.

Last night, when Chi Chun sat on me, I saw in the dim firelight that her fair and alluring thighs had many thin, long scratches from walking naked through the woods.

Yi Liang and Luya's ankles also had quite a few scratches. They were women, not like me, a man with strong flesh and blood. Thinking of their suffering alongside me, my heart ached.

I stood up and slowly moved around the cave, trying to improve blood circulation to aid in the healing of my wounds. Looking at the clothes drying on the wooden pole, they seemed more precious than pearls and agates.

I was still completely naked. The three women had completely adapted to the sight of my lower body; only Luya still occasionally glanced at it curiously.

The three women were all asleep. The clothes drying were completely dry, still hot to the touch. I moved them promptly; accidentally ruining these hard-won treasures would be a significant loss for us.

The sniper who had been killed was about my size. I put his pants and shirt on myself. Wearing the bearskin in the jungle later would prevent back chafing and scratches from branches. Besides, the green color of the garment was perfect for ambushes in the woods.

I used a thin twig to measure the leg length of the three women lying asleep, and began searching for suitable clothes for them on the wooden rack. Especially for Chi Chun, she couldn't continue to be naked from the waist down; her private parts were very sensitive to foreign objects, and if a twig scratched her there, it would be a disastrous outcome.

The trousers were all quite long, so instead of shortening them with a dagger, I instructed them to wrap the legs tightly with strips of cloth to prevent insects, snakes, or thorns from getting in. Unfortunately, most of the villains on the island were shirtless, making it difficult to find suitable shirts for the women to choose from.

The three women, wearing oversized men's shirts, looked at each other and started teasing one another. Although their clothing looked rather inappropriate, at least they had

some thicker clothing. My riding boots were worn through, and small twigs often got stuck in them while running, making them almost as uncomfortable as wearing straw sandals. Changing into the French sniper's military boots immediately made them much more comfortable.

Chi Chun had also taken off the shoes he used to wear, made of leopard cat skin, and put on the smallest military riding boots in

his wardrobe, looking like a female office worker, handsome and charming. The rain was still pouring outside the cave, though the wind had subsided a bit. I used my dagger to cut a piece of plastic from the rubber raft and had Chi Chun wrap it around my shoulder to prevent the rain from easily soaking my wounds. Then I wrapped the huge bear skin around my upper body as a raincoat.

For camouflage, I had to carry the weight, adding another layer of bear skin covered with vines on top. I set the last grenade's wires at the cave entrance and instructed the three women: "Squat behind the large rock inside the cave, don't make a sound until I return safely. If any enemies search the cave again, fire at the entrance, try to maintain a stalemate, buy time, and don't let them enter the cave, otherwise I won't be able to shoot them from this high vantage point."

After all, squatting on the high ground all day yesterday was a very unpleasant experience, and the women nodded vigorously in response, clearly preferring to hide in the cave. Before leaving, I caught four or five trout from the ditch, threw them into the cave, and then, armed with the same weapons as yesterday, ran towards the large mudflat.

My shoulder still ached slightly, but with my military boots, thick clothing, and two bear skins, I felt much better than yesterday. After running about 900 meters, I began climbing higher into the valley. Before approaching the mudflat, I needed to observe the enemy's movements carefully; otherwise, blindly running would risk falling into an ambush.

The excellent traction of my military boots made climbing much safer and faster. In the misty rain, I carefully observed the large ship near the shore through my sniper scope. I saw several men in black raincoats moving on the deck; they seemed to be salvaging something.

Finally, I realized the ship was using steel cables on its mast to pull boxes up from the sea.

Chapter 49: The

Unfortunate One with a Broken Tail Assuming they didn't go to the rainforest behind the Great Muddy Swamp, I wouldn't have gone there first. Although I've never experienced the dwarf savages there, I've heard about their group attacks and ferocity, and I'm terrified.

Unless the guys on the ship go into the rainforest to look for the box, which would attract the dwarf savages who suddenly appear. Then, I can hide behind these bandits and use the advantage of a pincer movement to calmly shoot them down.

The box hoisted onto the deck must have been retrieved from behind the Great Muddy Swamp yesterday. I continued to observe for a while, and the guys on deck finally managed to get the box into the cabin with great effort. It seems unlikely that they'll land on the island today.

Just as I was preparing to retreat back to the cave, a sudden burst of gunfire erupted from the deck, startling me so much that I quickly shrank back, waiting for the branches above my head to fall.

The reality wasn't what I imagined. The bullets weren't coming in my direction. There might have been danger on the ship. Perhaps the crates they obtained were crawling with some kind of dwarf, which was why these guys were firing so wildly.

When I looked back at the large ship, a fierce battle had broken out on the deck. Twenty or thirty men stood on each side of the gun emplacements, firing at each other. This baffled me completely. Why were they killing each other? Were they possessed?

Unfortunately, the misty rain obscured the situation, making it difficult to discern the battleground. However, one thing was certain: the Sea Demon would be arriving in a little over a month to collect its goods. The leader, Cang Gui, was currently suffering heavy losses and engaging in infighting; even if the deal went through, he likely wouldn't survive.

And what kind of people were the Sea Demons? They were also ruthless thieves who bullied the weak and oppressed the strong. Once Cang Gui was reduced to only twenty or thirty men, getting the Sea Demons to pay the exorbitant sum wouldn't be so easy.

In this barbaric, backward place, devoid of rules, a significant shift in the power dynamic between the trading parties inevitably led to double-crossing.

If this massive shipment of weapons fell into the hands of the Sea Demons, and Cang Gui's ship also carried so much drug and gold, it would strengthen their pirate forces, sowing the seeds for a greater catastrophe in the future.

Even if forced to, any nation whose interests were harmed would have to resort to military search and elimination of the Sea Demons, incurring far greater costs than they would now. Of course, these costs would be the most severe and painful for the direct victims.

The firefight on the ships was almost over; both sides had suffered heavy casualties, with few survivors remaining. I lay back on the valley floor, a feeling of indescribable joy welling up inside me. It was like the first time I hunted crocodiles in the muddy swamp, when the beasts that had trapped me and Yiliang under the boulders suddenly turned on each other.

Two more hours passed, and the remaining forces on deck were finally decided. Whichever side won, it wouldn't be a bad thing for me. The enemy's numbers had dramatically decreased by nearly a third.

But I racked my brains trying to understand why the enemy had suddenly resorted to self-harm. If they were deliberately putting on an act to mislead me, there was no need for such a large-scale operation.

The weather was terrible; I couldn't sneak up and shoot a few of them from such a distance amidst the chaos—it was more agonizing than ever.

The worst thing about killing the enemy is being too eager. Although the gunfire on the ships had stopped, even if I could hit any of the survivors, I couldn't fire. If I alerted them, their landing on the island would be further delayed.

The sea continued to churn, like a baby rocked in its mother's arms, but this baby was evil. They began throwing their companions' corpses off the deck.

One would grab the dead body by the shoulders, another by the legs, shake it a few times, and when they felt the force of the throw was sufficient, they would release their grip simultaneously, tossing their slain comrade into the vast sea.

I couldn't return to the cave anytime soon; as long as my line of sight allowed, I had to stay there, watching their every move.

I really wanted to go and see the primeval rainforest behind the great mudflat, but there was only one way: wait for these guys to return to the island, then quietly follow them.

When they encountered the dwarf savages, I would seize the opportunity and use a sniper rifle to cut off their retreat, annihilating the enemy without leaving a single one alive.

But what was worrying was that after dealing with the corpses on the deck, the enemy retreated back to the cabin. My heart sank considerably.

They could stay comfortably in the cabin, waiting for better weather before retrieving the crates with their heavy weapons, while I had to lie there in the rain, waiting.

They must be feeling terrible; as the saying goes, "Men die for wealth, birds die for food," and these insatiable creatures have too many things on their minds. The savages had stolen their wealth and food.

I learned from the French sniper that the savages had taken a lot of their belongings, and the ten men from yesterday hadn't been able to retrieve all the crates.

Those who returned alive didn't immediately ship the crates to the ship; instead, they boarded first and are now taking advantage of the bad weather to hastily load them onto the ship.

The only reliable way to find out the reason for their infighting is to capture an enemy and interrogate them.

I closed my eyes to rest, lying under the bearskin, waiting for the enemy, when a question suddenly occurred to me. Could there still be crates hidden somewhere along the coastline that hadn't been loaded onto the ship?

It was a possibility. I quickly grabbed my sniper rifle and began surveying the area, looking for any suspicious spots where treasure chests might be hidden. But what I discovered was astonishing.

The corpses that had been thrown into the sea were now crawling on the seaweed along the shore, each carrying a weapon and exchanging cover gestures as they ran towards the island.

Cang Gui was indeed a treacherous and cunning man; the firefight on the deck was just a farce. His real purpose was to secretly send his henchmen into the sea.

However, the scene I had just witnessed was truly shocking and incredibly realistic. If I hadn't been lucky enough to spot these guys sneaking onto the island, it would have been impossible to see through his scheme.

Now that I had discovered this, the advantage was definitely in my favor again. I quickly descended the hillside and ran towards the enemy's right flank.

As soon as these dozens of guys stepped onto the shore, the sky suddenly darkened considerably, as if the island itself was emitting a black rage because of the evil men trampling on it.

My ambush and pursuit were successful. Objectively, the noise of the thunderstorm and the sea breeze making the tree branches sway wildly provided excellent cover for me. Subjectively, these guys were distracted. They were confident that feigning death by drowning, especially in such terrible weather, would make them hard to spot, so they stopped paying attention to the dangers behind them. Deep down,

they were mostly filled with fear of the dwarf savages, a fear far greater than my sniping.

Now they were risking their lives to reclaim the enormous wealth they had obtained through evil deeds, while I only needed to wipe them out on the island. Since our goals and motives were different, the difficulties we faced were also different.

I only needed to hide in a distant tree, waiting for their carcasses to attract a horde of dwarf savages. They would be terrified and open fire, and amidst the chaos and gunfire, I could join the dwarf savages in killing them with ranged weapons.

Whatever was in the crates was less important than the lives of the three women; I couldn't risk my life like a suicidal bird.

Due to the darkness, I couldn't accurately count their numbers, but I roughly estimated there were twenty or thirty of them. As they approached the large mudflat, they dared not advance in a straight line and slowly formed a serpentine pattern.

The weakest members of the group typically walked at the ends, while only the commanders and leaders positioned themselves in the middle. This allowed them to use those at the front and back as cannon fodder, effectively protecting themselves.

Seeing their change in formation, I changed my strategy as well. After all, they outnumbered me, and relying solely on sniper rifle bursts would not only be unlikely to eliminate so many enemies but would also easily attract their fire.

The enemy possessed heavy weapons; a volley of fire at me would be ten times more likely to hit me than bombarding the high ground.

At the very back of their group was a black African man carrying an AK-47. Wearing a greasy, rain-soaked raincoat, he kept shaking his head from side to side, constantly glancing towards the front of the group. It was clear he was terrified of the so-called "wild monkeys."

If danger struck the front of the group, he was likely planning to be the first to desert and flee.

This guy had already been to the island yesterday. He was the black man whose second shot missed after I shot the red-vested guy peeking through binoculars under the seaweed.

He was lucky to have survived the savage territory yesterday in the group that went to retrieve the boxes from the mudflats; it's no wonder he's so nervous about going on another adventure.

This black man followed the group passively, as if he sensed impending danger, deliberately keeping a considerable distance from the main group. But his actions greatly fueled my desire to kill him.

I drew the dagger from my leg, put it in my mouth, and crouched down like a cheetah poised to pounce, approaching him from behind.

As their long line was about to turn out of the woods, I suddenly leaped out from behind a large, dark blue rock, like an enraged frog springing up. My left hand covered his mouth, while my right, gripping a sharp blade, plunged it deep into the black man's abdomen.

He was a strong fellow, and with my arm injured, I couldn't afford to be careless. So, I twisted the knife handle with all my might, slicing backward relentlessly. The man, preoccupied with something, was completely unprepared for my attack. He didn't even have time to look at me before he died.

Only after he was completely dead did I dare release him, quickly dragging him into the nearby bushes. His raincoat was torn, and his bulging navel, like the eye of a black horse, clung to his tan-colored abdomen.

A large portion of his intestines, stained with red blood, had slipped out, twisted and tangled, emitting white steam in the cold rain.

Chapter 50: The Murderous Mire

This guy had five grenades hanging from his chest; I took them all and carried them with me.

In this kind of environment, people easily develop a strong will to survive. Once that will takes hold, killing the enemy and killing one's own comrades are not so different, especially since they were a group of ruthless bandits devoid of any morality.

This black man must have had a terrible thought at the time: that when the group ahead encountered the savages, they would all be shot by poisoned stingers and die in the rainforest.

Of course, he might even have ambushed his comrades by the roadside, secretly shooting them as they scattered on their way back, and then framing me, the one on the island, for killing them.

That way, he could escape back to the ship alone, pretending to be a tough guy who had fought his way back alive. No one would think he was a fugitive, and no one would know his cowardice and gloomy mindset.

As a result, there were very few people left on the ship. The leader of the Canggui gang had to abandon the idea of retrieving the treasure chest this time, and wait until they had enough men to try again.

After disposing of the black man's body, I climbed a tall tree and observed the bandits entering the swamp through my sniper scope. The low bushes there made it difficult for me to conceal myself, and I couldn't continue following them; if a pack of crocodiles attacked, I would face two dangers.

Several days of heavy rain had turned the swamp into a marshland. These guys not only knew about the crocodiles in the swamp, but also about the hidden man-eating pits.

The swamp's uneven, muddy surface made it impossible for anyone entering the crocodile's territory to run normally, while the crocodiles themselves could use the slippery ground to run and crawl more quickly.

Crocodiles are most active in this environment, and I doubt even the unseen savages would easily approach.

The thugs didn't step directly into the center of the swamp, but instead walked cautiously in a line along the edge.

They were like grasshoppers strung on a rope, their bodies tied together with a long rope. If anyone was unlucky enough to fall into the man-eating pit, they could be pulled out in time.

"Boss, Suhur is missing. He must be scared and ran back to the ship." A loud voice shouted to the group ahead. It was clear that his real reason for reporting to the boss was to demoralize the troops and make them give up the idea of advancing.

"Damn it, let him run! If he dares to go back to the ship, I'll kill him!" A man in black shouted loudly. He wasn't answering the loud-mouthed henchman, but deliberately shouting to warn everyone that if anyone dared to run away like that black man, they wouldn't have a good ending.

"Boss, why don't we chase after Suhur first? Maybe he ran into trouble and got separated from the group." Another low-key voice called out. "Chase my ass! If we can't get those boxes back from those damned bastards, all our hard work over the past ten years will be wasted, and you'll all be eating mud in the future."

The black-clad boss's words seemed to nail everyone's restless hearts firmly to the cross of desire. Their extravagance, their debauchery and perverse cruelty, were the very foundation of their power. Without the immense wealth hidden in those chests, how could these damned scoundrels have wreaked havoc for over a decade? The

thoughts of their past extravagance and debauchery must have resurfaced in the minds of these henchmen. Each of them suddenly mustered some courage and pressed on, no longer using the black man, Suhul, as an excuse.

Although binding themselves together with ropes was dangerous, preventing them from escaping in time in an emergency, the destructive power of a group's fire was immense and terrifying.

Even if a pack of crocodiles charged or they encountered dwarf savages, they could effectively cover each other by huddling back to back.

At this moment, shooting them would be unwise. The bandits mostly carried daggers, which could instantly cut the ropes, allowing them to scatter and take cover. Even with the highest rate of fire from a sniper rifle, I could only kill three or four at most, which was far less worthwhile than exposing my own position.

The group of bandits, bound together, had already ventured halfway into the swamp, yet no crocodiles had pounced. It seemed their method was indeed effective; after last night's repeated bombing raids, the crocodile habitat, and any native creatures in or near it, dared not approach.

Through the sniper scope, the bombing marks in the middle of the swamp were clearly visible. Many puddles were blasted out, and some low shrubs had been blown aside, resembling overturned green mailboxes on the road.

Normally, these plants, their roots exposed by the blasts, would have long since withered and died; fortunately, the continuous rain had kept them green.

Scattered across the puddles were the carcasses of crocodiles, some with only half their heads or tails showing, seemingly still in the water, while others were actually crocodile remains.

I had to climb down the tree and continue tracking them; otherwise, once they entered the primeval forest, they would be as unseen as crows landing on a coal pile. From the woods to the entrance of the great mud pit, there was a narrow path that was the only way. I used the grenade

I had just acquired to set an explosive trap. I picked up a long wooden pole nearby, held it horizontally in my arms, and only then dared to step on the footprints the enemy had just left behind, inching my way into the mud pit. If I accidentally stepped into the man-eating mud, I would use the pole to save myself.

Ever since witnessing the scene of being chased and bitten by a group of crocodiles, I felt an indescribable unease every time I entered the great mud pit, especially the scene of the crocodiles charging frantically, which was still vivid in my mind and left me with lingering fear.

Even if the black man who was slaughtered was cowardly, he shouldn't have been so frightened. When I ambushed him, he didn't even have the basic ability to defend himself, which showed that he had experienced an unimaginable horror yesterday and was still not recovered.

"I want to kill people, not treasure. If I really get into danger, what will happen to the women in the cave?" The question that flashed through my subconscious like an electric shock made me shudder. There was no need for me to take the risk and continue to follow. It was pointless. Realizing this, I understood I had almost been bewitched, unwittingly stumbling into the swamp.

Dropping the long stick, I ran back to the woods and found a tall tree nearby. As I climbed the slippery trunk, I tried to use my sniper scope to see what was happening inside.

When I finally reached the canopy, I was stunned by what I saw. The primeval forest was nothing like a forest; it was like a giant, dark green canopy, shrouded in a white mist that completely obscured everything below.

Except for the wide freshwater river, which, like a giant python fallen from the sky, meandered in a long S-shape through the vast rainforest, there was almost nothing else green to be seen.

I could only sit in the tree and wait. In the dark, oppressive sky, lightning flashed like a dragon roaming within, constantly spewing out bright streaks. To be honest, if I was unlucky, I could easily be struck by lightning.

But sitting in the tree, there was no time to worry about that. Compared to the sudden appearance of a swarm of crocodiles or the legendary "wild monkeys," climbing up a tree was much safer.

"Rat-a-tat-tat, boom-boom," the sounds of gunfire and grenades echoed from the end of the muddy swamp. I immediately realized they were in danger—either a swarm of crocodiles or some dwarf wild men.

In this situation, it wouldn't be long before some people would flee back. I could simply take my gun, crouch in a tree, and shoot the oncoming enemies.

Moreover, this was the easiest and safest time to shoot them. First, they were being chased by wild animals and dared not stop to engage in a firefight from behind cover. Another reason was that the enemy couldn't run in a straight line through the swamp; they had to hop left and right, and those with slightly less luck would fall into the swamp pit.

The swamp pit was now like the private parts of a caressed maiden, exceptionally wet, soft, and slippery. Any slightly heavy, columnar object stepped on would be swallowed up instantly, like a chopstick falling vertically into sesame paste.

The intense gunfire and screams gradually became clearer, and I could see the end of the swamp, with many people running back. I quickly raised my sniper rifle and aimed it at the swamp.

This was the bloodiest scene I had ever witnessed in my life, even more so than on a brutal battlefield. A group of giant crocodiles, seemingly filled with the resentment of being bombed, crashed through the mud and vegetation, rushing forward with a splash. Through the sniper scope, one could clearly see the crocodiles' furious eyes burning with what seemed like flames.

Twenty or thirty thugs, their eyes wide with terror, desperately fled from the swamp, unable to utter a sound.

Whenever a slower runner was caught in the jaws of a crocodile, his body would be flung into the air, only then able to scream as a conditioned reflex.

But before a second, heart-wrenching scream could even escape, another crocodile would leap into the air and bite off his head. The body would be torn apart, blood splattering in a fan shape amidst the dense rain.

Then the crocodile would raise its neck, its jaws heaving, swallowing the pieces of flesh. The ferocious crocodiles piling up behind, having failed to devour any meat, their eyes blazing with fury, chased after the fleeing men.

Several men, terrified, ran in a straight line. They weren't unaware of the danger, but the torment of fear drove them to madness, preferring to risk sinking into the mud and dying a gruesome death rather than be torn apart by the giant crocodiles.

One of them, a tall, thin man with a goatee, was already half-submerged in the black mud. His bloodshot eyes, seeing the crocodiles charging towards him, intensified his terror, causing him to deliberately burrow into the mud. Like a startled toad, he plunged into the water.

The frenzied crocodiles didn't care. Several of their large heads pushed into the mud, their long jaws reaching in to snatch the man with the goatee, and with a "ripping" sound, they yanked him out. Before he

could suffocate, the crocodiles' sharp teeth tore off his two arms, blood gushing from his mangled shoulders. His body, shaped like a "V," flew more than two meters into another mud pit with a "plop," but he didn't sink.

Chapter 51: The Crushed Pelvis

The crocodiles running on either side, smelling the blood, temporarily abandoned their pursuit and pounced on the man with the mustache, fighting over him as if he were fresh food. The man with the mustache let out an extremely piercing scream, like a deathbed confession.

The black-clad boss and several henchmen had been running along the edge of the large mudflat, a route they had just traversed, making it less likely for them to step into mud pits.

In just a few dozen seconds, he had already run to the front, killing the henchmen who had been running ahead of him. His method of seeking self-preservation was willing to sacrifice everything. He

feared that the henchmen in front of him would block his escape, and he also wanted to use their bodies to be torn apart by the crocodiles, buying himself a tiny bit of time to escape. This showed how cruel and cold-blooded the black-clad boss was.

Of the twenty or thirty men who entered the large mudflat, only fifteen survived. Now they had an opening to fight back. A burly bald man mounted a heavy machine gun on a large rock and opened fire on the charging crocodiles.

"Come on, come on, hahaha, I'll kill you all!" The bald man shouted and fired like a madman, using his angry retaliation to counteract his inner fear. Machine gun bullets rained down, sweeping horizontally. Several large crocodiles lunging at him had their grayish-blue backs instantly ripped open, their glistening scales flying everywhere.

The bald man's firing somewhat halted the crocodile advance, buying time for his men. Several more men who had escaped the mud also jumped onto the rocks and fired.

This time, the dozens of crocodiles charging at the front howled in pain, their massive tails trembling as if electrocuted, trying to turn and crawl back. Although crocodiles have thick skin, when hit by the highly lethal bullets, they blew like beer bottles suddenly bursting open, spraying red blood.

Seeing that his men had suppressed the crocodile attack, the black-clad leader, who had already reached the edge of the woods, turned back and stood behind the heavy machine gun to give orders. "Beat them! Give them a good beating! Damn it, damn it, when we get back we'll tear Suhu'er to pieces!"

With that, the black-clad leader raised his pistol and fired at a crocodile that had been shot dozens of times but was still lunging forward. The crocodile's back gushed blood, like several sprinklers suddenly turning on to irrigate a lawn, spraying crimson blood more than a meter high.

Since the previous night's bombardment, the number of crocodiles in the swamp had decreased significantly. The crocodile swarm that rushed in this time numbered at most a hundred or so. The fifteen bandits had already split into three groups, occupying three large, lined-up rocks, effectively providing firepower.

Twenty or thirty more large crocodiles pounced from behind, seeing only prey on the rocks, unaware that their teeth and tough hides had rendered the fight meaningless.

These charging crocodiles had probably all chased and bitten me before. In their minds, if they still imagined these fifteen guys with ample firepower were like me, with no other skills besides escaping into the woods, they were in big trouble.

"Give them a good beating! I have plenty of machine guns and bullets. Leave a few alive later; I'll kill them myself!" The leader in black shouted triumphantly, knowing his side had firmly grasped the initiative, as the charging crocodiles were instantly wiped out.

I aimed my sniper scope at the bald man operating the heavy machine gun at the back of his head, preparing to launch a pincer attack. Hitting his head from two hundred meters away in the tree would be easy. However, just as my finger was about to pull the trigger, a ten-centimeter-long gray-black bamboo thorn suddenly pierced the bald head reflected in the mirror.

The bald man immediately stopped firing, clutching his head, jumping uncontrollably behind a large rock in pain, yelling incoherently. Less than ten seconds later, he began to vomit and then passed out. "The wild monkeys are coming! The middle group, keep shooting at the crocodiles! The two groups on the left and right, watch both flanks and shoot those little beasts to death!"

the leader in black shouted, glancing around constantly. He wanted to know where the dwarf savages were attacking from, so he could escape in the opposite direction if he couldn't hold out.

"Rat-a-tat-tat, tat-a-tat-tat." A small man with a black headscarf raised the heavy machine gun the bald man had just used and began firing at another group of crocodiles that were lunging at them.

The leader in black hurriedly pulled a grenade from the chest of the bald man lying on the ground and threw it into the dense bushes nearby. With a "boom," scattered branches and leaves flew everywhere.

This was like stirring up a hornet's nest. Hundreds of dwarf savages, each the size of a ten-year-old child, sprang out from behind. They let out piercing screams. With their thin, short arms, they held two-meter-long wooden poles and simultaneously blew poisonous stingers at the nearest group.

This group of suddenly appearing dwarf savages looked as if they had been boiled in hot water; their short fur was patchy with white and black, like they had a skin disease. I quickly moved my sniper scope to carefully observe the one charging at the front.

Its large head resembled that of a skinned seal. A long tuft of green fur stood upright on its head, and its dead-fish eyes, like two silver-gray coins embedded in them, gleamed with a chilling light.

No matter how strong a man is, he can't defeat this creature created by nature with his bare hands, without firearms or knives. Just looking at its four fangs, exposed from its purplish-black lips and crossed into two X shapes, is enough to send chills down one's spine.

If you were surrounded by two or three of them, it would be no better than encountering a large wild leopard. Although I saw this through a sniper scope, far from the actual object, my stomach still churned, and I couldn't help but vomit bile. This was much more shocking than when I first encountered the "golden python" in the forest.

The bald man who had been shot and was unconscious was still lying on the rubble, with no one to cover him. The machine gunners at the front crouched down and fired volleys at the dwarf savages that sprang out of the bushes. The dwarf savages that

had leaped more than two meters high and were pouncing on them were bounced back in mid-air by the dense bullets, crashing into the bodies of their fellow savages who had just leaped up behind them, and falling back into the bushes together.

“Come on, you little beast, taste the bullet! Come on, come on!” A white man, who had taken off his raincoat, revealing a muscular physique, yelled as he bent over and fired.

It was clear these gunmen were terrified; they had no idea how many more savages were charging towards them from behind the bushes. “Ah, ahhh, help me, help me!”

One of the bandits in the middle group was grabbed by the thigh by a half-dead crocodile that pounced on him. He sat on the ground, howling and struggling, trying to free his leg from the crocodile’s gaping jaws. Desperate, he shoved his machine gun into the crocodile’s gaping maw, gripping the trigger tightly. Bullets flew like mad worms into the crocodile’s throat and emerged from its thick tail.

The crocodile, unable to withstand the machine gun fire spewing from its mouth, finally stopped twisting and biting its prey, and died stiffly.

The man who had been bitten hurriedly dropped the machine gun, pressed his arms to the ground, and dragged himself backward with all his

might. He was missing a leg and was crying and begging his comrades for help. The leader in black rushed over, picked up the machine gun stuck in the crocodile's mouth, and threw it back into the arms of the man who was sitting on the ground wailing after losing his leg. He said urgently, "Hold on, I'll give you a lot of gold. Keep firing and suppress the crocodile that's attacking."

The man with the missing leg didn't care about these tempting words and just kept crying and hugging his broken leg. The leader in black realized that his remaining troops couldn't withstand the attacks from both directions.

He looked around at his henchmen who were firing and being hit one after another by the savage's poison darts. Knowing that the situation was bad, he took advantage of the chaos and slipped into the woods, sneaking away alone.

The group that was blocking the dwarf savage had been completely wiped out; they were all unconscious from being hit by the poison darts. Nearly a hundred dwarf savages rushed forward, straddling the fallen giants and tearing at them.

Their small, white-haired hands, like sharp iron claws, swiftly tore flesh from their bodies, stuffing handfuls into their mouths and swallowing them without even chewing. The bald man's

abdomen had been ripped open like a blood basin, his intestines squeezed out by the savages' small claws and yanked into their mouths.

One of the savages, with grayish-green hair on its head, was eating a piece of liver covered in blood, a small section of purplish-red intestine dangling from its lower end, swaying back and forth.

Suddenly, a member of its kind reached under its mouth, yanked off the uneaten intestine, and stuffed it into its own mouth.

This enraged the grayish-green savage; it spat out its food, swung its hard, hairy claws, and slapped the savage who had stolen its food hard across the face. The two beasts immediately began to fight.

The remaining dwarf savages ignored their fight and continued their frenzied eating. Seeing this carnage, the other two groups dared not fire any more recklessly, dropping their weapons and running for their lives.

Their movement, however, provoked newly emerged dwarf savages from behind the bushes. "Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak," a strange sound emanated from one of them, and even the group of dwarf savages still eating were spurred on to chase after the fleeing bandits.

"Boom!" The fleeing group landed on the fuse of a grenade I had set. The two hit were instantly killed, rolling a few times on the ground before lying still. The others, after getting up, continued their escape, completely ignoring any potential grenade traps ahead.

A group of dwarf savages caught up and immediately tore the bodies to shreds like they were eating bald heads. However, they did not continue chasing the group that had run into the woods.

"Bang!" I fired a shot, hitting one of the fleeing bandits, and the others were now terrified beyond measure. They probably thought the pursuing savages had picked up the discarded rifles and were now firing at me.

Chapter 52: The Despicable Master

Because the tree I was crouching in wasn't particularly tall, I couldn't continue shooting at the fleeing savages through the dense foliage. Therefore, I had to reach a valley top as quickly as possible to eliminate them all before they reached the shore.

After shooting one enemy, I quickly looked back through my sniper scope at the savages by the large mudflat. I spotted a red-nosed creature facing me, constantly twitching its short, ape-like nose, sniffing the surrounding air intensely.

It raised its short, thick neck, its face as ugly as if burned, its fierce teeth grinding together, and its brow constantly furrowing between its two gray-bronze eyes. Gradually, it showed signs of aggression towards the large tree where I was crouching.

I immediately realized the danger; it had probably heard the gunshots from the heavy rain and was trying to use its keen senses to detect my scent.

If I waited for that red-nosed savage to squeak again, I knew without a doubt what was going to happen. "Bang!" Another shot rang out, piercing its skull, a gush of crimson blood spurting out. Because of its small size, it was knocked backward and rolled by the powerful sniper bullet.

After quickly firing the second shot, I immediately slid down the tree, preparing to run towards the higher ground deeper in the forest.

I vomited constantly along the way, sometimes even falling. These short, wild men weren't the cannibals I had imagined, but rather the "ghost monkeys" that the old folks in the nameless town often talked about, things they'd heard about from their ancestors.

Perhaps only in such a primitive and unknown rainforest could such disgusting creatures thrive. The town's legends said these ghost monkeys were deliberately released by Satan from hell to punish humanity.

They were bloodthirsty and had an incredibly high reproductive rate, able to produce dozens in just a few months, like rats. I used to believe these things were just rumors, mere fantasies of the people in the secluded town, but today I saw them with my own eyes.

The old man at the tavern, to attract customers, would always tell us stories about ghost monkeys. He said these monkeys had an innate ability to find treasure, like a baby's natural instinct to suckle. Whenever the old man was drunk, he would boast, "My great-grandfather was a legendary treasure hunter; he once led a ghost monkey in a tomb on an iron chain."

We would all tease him, saying his great-grandfather must have been just like him now, drunk, leading a goat, telling stories to the old man's grandfather.

But these real ghost monkeys looked far more ferocious than the legends. Their bellies were swollen like those of a ten-year-old child who had eaten clay. Their limbs were short and thin, yet their jumping ability was astonishing.

Especially their green hair on their heads, which had the same effect as the rattlesnake's tail and the viper's striking markings—clearly a warning coloration foretelling death.

The nearest valley is two kilometers away. As I trekked through the dense, damp jungle, I felt as if I had just eaten human sausage, and a salty, fishy taste kept rising in my mouth.

To dispel the strange taste emanating from my mind, I tore off a tender green blade of grass while running, chewed it, and used the bitter taste of the plant to dilute the sensory hallucinations.

Relieved to find the monkey troop hadn't followed, I quickly lay down under a clump of branches, panting heavily to recover my strength. After resting for a while

, I began to observe the path leading down from the woods to the island shore, but the remaining bandits didn't appear in my sniper scope. I figured they might have gotten lost or been eaten by other wild animals in the forest. Just

as I was preparing to return to the cave before dark, the leader in black appeared in my sniper scope, looking flustered. He held a pistol in one hand and a clump of dense foliage in the other.

Every few steps, he quickly used the branches to conceal himself. No wonder it took him so long to appear. He's been living cautiously, even after escaping the attacks of the crocodiles and the monkeys, he still didn't forget to be wary of the snipers on the island.

This guy's survival until now is probably due to his cunning and suspicious nature. I observed for a while longer; the other fleeing bandits weren't following the leader in black. It seems they've run into the trouble I suspected.

The leader in black is indeed cunning. When he escaped from the stream in the muddy swamp, he first hid in the dense forest, but didn't take the same route. This guy must have found a secluded spot first, buried himself alive with dead branches and leaves, and only after the gunfire subsided did he cower and flee here.

I aimed my sniper rifle at his rear end, which was disguised behind the branches, but then, thinking that would seriously injure him, I changed my position and shot at his left calf. The guy immediately dropped the branch in pain and returned fire fiercely in my direction with his pistol.

His marksmanship was impeccable; even in the misty, rainy weather, he managed to hit a tree branch beside me from a distance of three or four hundred meters.

This guy's accuracy was no fluke; all three of his shots landed about a meter from my shoulder. I couldn't afford to be careless; a moment's inattention and he could easily kill me.

If a sniper were to die hundreds of meters away at the hands of someone shooting with a pistol, it would be a disgrace to snipers, even if they were heroes, let alone a despicable villain. It would be a laughingstock to anyone with a gun in the world. But I couldn't let him limp away. The reason I didn't kill him outright was to leave him alive.

Estimating he didn't have many bullets left in his pistol, I quickly ran to the side of the valley and, from under a low bush, passed the black barrel of my sniper rifle, preparing to fire a second shot.

This guy's shrewdness was unmatched. He didn't blindly fire towards the valley top; instead, he deliberately threw his pistol aside, put his hands on his head, and knelt on the ground. He knew what it meant for a skilled sniper to avoid shooting his vitals.

To save his life, he decisively made the gesture of surrender. The large ship remained anchored at the distant shore, its deck deserted. Cang Gui must be anxiously waiting in the cabin, worried that his comrades wouldn't be able to carry those boxes of treasure back.

"Bang!" I fired a second shot, shattering the pistol he had dropped, preventing him from playing any tricks. Leaning against the low trees on the valley slope, I crouched down and ran to within a hundred meters of the black-clad leader kneeling and groaning. Hiding behind a plant, I shouted down the valley slope, "If you don't want your head blown off, hurry up to the top of the valley. If you can't climb halfway up in ten minutes, I'll shoot off your other leg."

The black-clad leader could only hear the commands from above, but he couldn't pinpoint my exact location. "Don't shoot! I'm injured. I can't walk fast, but I'll climb up as soon as possible. I know the secret of the treasure chest." The guy argued frantically as he struggled to lift his leg and stumbled toward me.

"Take off your clothes. Don't let me see any weapons on you, or your chances of survival are slim. Hurry up, my patience is running out." As I spoke, I began to shift my position to prevent my voice from giving away my location.

The black-clad leader cooperated readily, doing as I instructed, only wincing and howling in pain when he lifted his injured leg to pull down his pants. "Don't yell. Your men have all been eaten by wild monkeys. Give up on any trickery

you might have. Otherwise, if the gun goes off and blows your brains off, even if I wanted to spare your life, it would be difficult." "Hehe, as long as you don't kill me, it will definitely benefit you. Not to mention the treasure behind the big swamp, there are also many women waiting for you." This guy actually forgot his pain, grinning obsequiously at me.

It was clear this was an extremely dangerous fellow. The fact that he could endure the pain and fight me showed he wasn't just a smooth talker leading a pack of wolves.

He approached me; although he was completely naked and unarmed, he still exuded a dangerous aura. I couldn't help but reassure him, "Come on, walk ahead of me to the top of the valley. There's a cave there. I'll have someone bandage your wounds once we're inside. Otherwise, you'll bleed to death."

"Good, good, you're such a good person. In all these years working for Cang Gui, no one has ever treated me like this. They're like wolves, only caring about their own pleasure, completely disregarding the lives of others. I've wanted to escape them for a long time. Alas! Once you're on the pirate ship, there's no getting off." He continued rambling on.

“You don’t seem like a bad guy. As long as you cooperate, I’ll make proper arrangements for you. Once your injuries heal, I’ll send you off the island.”

I noticed his calf; it was indeed badly injured. A bullet had blasted a black circle in his calf, and dark blood was constantly seeping from between his fingers as he covered the wound. I had to hurry and get some information; this guy could faint at any moment.

“What’s in the box? You guys fought yourselves on the ship just to create a false impression and get to sea safely, right?” I followed behind him, pistol in hand, probing him with my questions. Every time he answered my question, he deliberately slowed his pace.

“That wasn’t a false impression; it was a real fight. Of the twenty-eight people who went to the island the day before yesterday, only three survived and retrieved a treasure chest. After returning to the ship, they recounted what happened, saying it was a ghost island, and going there was a nine-out-of-ten chance of death. It scared everyone so much that no one dared to go to the island again.” As soon as he finished speaking, he pretended to be in pain, not wanting to continue.

“Keep talking. I’ll treat you properly. Just bear with it for now.” I said in a low but threatening tone. "Before Cang Gui came here, he spent a fortune hiring thirty desperate mercenaries from Europe. Fifteen of them who arrived on the island the day before yesterday are dead, and the rest refused to cooperate, unwilling to obey Cang Gui's orders to retrieve the treasure chest from the rainforest. So, a fight broke out."

Hearing this, I understood. No wonder it looked so realistic; it was for real. When disposing of the corpses, Cang Gui had come up with a last-minute plan: to have his men fake the bodies and slip into the sea.

"Tell me about the treasure chest. What's inside?" I knew the black-clad boss would rather talk about the ugly infighting than answer about the treasure chest.

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