Humanity Forbidden Island [Full Text] - 8

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

Chapter 106: The Red Line of Renting Life

The ammunition depot had many sturdy ropes. I climbed onto the gun emplacement and tied two to them. One end of the rope was threaded through a hook on the pole, and the other end was attached to the iron cage containing the Cang Gui.

The lemur, dead all night, had stiffened. The blood oozing from its severed neck had long since dried on the fur behind its forelimbs, like hedgehog quills coated with red hair wax. I grabbed the small beast by its long tail and used a dagger to dissect its internal organs. The stench of the corpse was much stronger than before.

The pale inky sky, the fleshy red sunrise, began to peer at the world again. I returned to the cabin and woke Lu Ya and Yi Liang, who were still half-asleep. The two little girls, rubbing their still-sleepy eyelids, followed me to the ammunition depot.

"This is a box of sniper bullets, 5,000 rounds. You two carry it to the deck and fire it all before dark." Knowing today's training mission, the two girls didn't show the excitement they had yesterday.

Luya and Yiliang struggled to carry the box of bullets together and began moving it towards the hatch. They were both very thin, but Yiliang, with her well-developed features, appeared fuller than Luya. Luya was the weakest; when she bent over, the long, thin ridge of her spine extended all the way to her small, round buttocks.

Luya's mother was a curvaceous woman; when Luya matured further, she would certainly be no less beautiful than Chi Chun now. Right now, physical strength was important for the two girls. Since their lives became entangled with mine, they no longer wanted to be mere ornaments for others to admire, and I wouldn't use the temptation of escaping hardship to trap the little girls' world.

I went down to the hall again. Chi Chun was holding her child, her pink eyelids closed, showing no signs of waking up. Opposite her sleeping on the plank bed was the pretty red-haired woman. It was because she and Chi Chun had developed a tacit understanding while eliminating the ghost monkeys that they became as close as female colleagues, sharing a cabin.

I gently woke Chi Chun, and seeing that the red-haired woman and the child beneath her were still fast asleep, she opened her arms and hooked them around my neck, pressing her soft lips to my forehead and giving me a few delayed kisses. The alluring curves of her neck and cleavage, concealed by her clothing, exuded a seductive allure, making me momentarily flustered.

Gently supporting Chi Chun's voluptuous body, she quietly got off the plank bed in my half-hug, half-embrace position. "The river has calmed down, providing more opportunities for hunting. Use the remaining otter meat to make breakfast for everyone, make sure they're all well-fed. Use today to thoroughly disinfect all areas of the ship that might be contaminated with bacteria."

Chi Chun got out of bed, her sleepiness seemingly returning. She clung to my arm, refusing to let go, and instead pressed her beautiful face against my bare chest, closing her pink eyelids in a coquettish manner, feigning sleep.

"Mmm, mmm," she murmured softly against my chest, like an agreement to my words, or a child's rebellion, unwilling to accept the warmth of my chest too quickly.

Chi Chun's husband, in countless dreamy nights and moments of deep sleep, had been so captivated by this alluring woman.

Back on deck, Yi Liang and Lu Ya were lying prone at the bow, practicing shooting steadily and smoothly. I quietly walked behind the two girls, slowly crouched down, and gently touched Yi Liang's small, delicate feet, correcting her stubborn posture.

"Bang, bang, bang..." The two girls continued firing in alternating bursts, without turning to look at me. Running out of that box of five thousand bullets before nightfall was no easy task.

"Can I shoot the dolphins nearby?" Lu Ya turned her sleepy face and looked at me earnestly. Her question puzzled me. The large ship was on a freshwater river in the middle of the forest; dolphins wouldn't swim there. I picked up

my binoculars and stood on the high bow of the ship. I could indeed see broken branches and leaves floating on the river surface fifty or sixty meters away, and occasionally a dolphin would leap out, its long, pointed snout and flailing fins like a pretty little girl who had just learned to swim, eager to show off her underwater dance.

This group of freshwater dolphins approached the large ship without malice; perhaps they wanted to communicate with the ship and express a friendly welcome.

“These aren’t dolphins, they’re freshwater dolphins. They’re probably drawn here by the sounds from the ship. Your task is to shoot living targets about 500 meters away. Remember what I said yesterday: don’t kill people indiscriminately.”

“But freshwater dolphin meat can provide us with food!” Luya’s question was simple and clear. She hadn’t become timid or fearless because of yesterday’s beating and my caresses last night, which made me very happy. So I patiently explained.

“Silly girl, if you shoot a dolphin in the distance, its blood will spread immediately, attracting crocodiles that are evenly distributed in the river to swarm and plunder. This will create an easy feeding area around the ship. Crocodiles can’t climb, so the threat they pose to us may not be obvious, but some things that can get on the ship are hard to predict.”

“Hmm, I understand. Snipers who shoot indiscriminately will only bring danger to themselves, like being cursed.” Yi Liang said thoughtfully.

“Yes, this is just a simple example. When you use sniper rifles to resolve crises in the future, you must be good at analysis and reasoning. No bullet is fired because your finger touches the trigger.”

The two girls nodded in unison, satisfied smiles appearing on their lips, having gained a deeper understanding of the art of sniping. “Here, tie one to each of your left hands.”

As I spoke, I took out two red threads from my pocket, twisted together from red threads pulled from various fabrics on the ship last night. Luya and Yiliang stopped shooting and lay down, waiting for me to put the threads on them one by one.

“Your hands are innocent and blameless, but from today onward, nearly ten thousand innocent lives will die by your guns, so I’m tying red threads to your wrists.”

Lu Ya asked, puzzled, “Then why don’t you have any on your hands?” As I tied the threads to her delicate wrists, I said solemnly, “The lives I’ve taken are mostly those of grave sin, which has atoned for the sins I committed before, so my heart is at peace now. You two are different from me. This red thread is to tell the Lord of All Things to bless you and give you a chance to atone.”

After hearing my words, Yi Liang solemnly pressed her eyes back to the sniper scope, searching for birds and beasts in the distant forest. “Then if we practice shooting inanimate objects, we won’t need red threads,” Lu Ya said, her thoughts wandering.

"You must get used to the feeling of bullets entering flesh so that you won't be nervous when you shoot living people in the future. Because once your target is like you, a gun-wielding assassin capable of instantly killing someone, you will feel it even more."

Chapter 107: Hooking and Capturing the Gathered Beasts.
After instructing the two girls on shooting, I evenly stuffed the lemur's entrails and chopped flesh into the pocket of the Canggui, who was curled up in the cage. He was so weak that he didn't even have the strength to open his eyes.

The iron cage was pushed to the side of the ship in the middle, and relying on the rope, the Canggui was slowly suspended above the river. The calming water flowed under his blood-stained body. The cage was submerged one-third of the way into the water, allowing the Canggui's bloody smell to spread quickly. I

gripped the ten-meter-long hook tightly in my hand, squatted above the iron cage on the ship's side, and constantly stirred the river water, making it ripple abnormally. The predators lurking in the water often have bulging eyes, which not only help them monitor movements above the surface but also allow them to detect unusual noises.

The stirring continued for about five or six minutes. I stood up and peered through binoculars at the surrounding river surface. In areas with dense aquatic plants, strange swirling patterns appeared,

likely a sign of approaching danger. Large amphibious predators don't expose themselves like this before attacking; their camouflage is impeccable. Although they sometimes appear foolishly burying their heads in the sand when facing prepared humans, their shameless ambush is a common tactic.

The fish living in the water are even more sensitive to these signs than I am on deck; their unusual movements indicate the approach of a large predator.

Luya and Yiliang's sniper rifles were still pounding at the bow, the large creatures lurking beneath the water unaware that the destructive power of such sounds was a hundred times greater than the frenzied claws that followed their roars.

The splashes at the stern began to intensify, occasionally accompanied by long, leaping dragonfish. These phenomena, approaching from afar, indicated the range of danger moving beneath the surface. I quickly crouched above the iron cage, vigorously stirring the water with the hook rod.

Yesterday's murky yellow river water was now a dark gray, making it quite difficult to spot any aquatic animals with blue backs. The Canggui at my feet, trembling incessantly in its cage, was probably more sensitive to the surrounding noise than I was.

The bloodstains and lemur fragments on its body, soaking in the running water, already easily attracted danger; my stirring with the hook rod was tantamount to helping those scent-detecting beasts quickly and accurately locate us.

The iron cage, like a buoyant wooden box, hung from the lower end of the rope, rising and falling with the large ship. The surrounding water began to darken, and shadowy figures, as thick as half a tree trunk, darted back and forth underwater, adjusting their attack postures, believing they were well concealed.

With a "splash," a broad-snouted crocodile leaped up, its jaws like powerful hands swatting at a flying insect, and slammed into the metal bars of the cage. The cage, originally square, was now like a loaf of bread squeezed hard by the crocodile's ferocious bite; the dented area, however, didn't bounce back for a long time.

"Ouch, ah, ah, ah..." Fear, like an injection of morphine, was injected into the half-dead Canggui, causing him to roll and writhe in the narrow cage, howling and curling his head and legs, trying to avoid the crocodile's bony, sharp teeth that pierced his flesh through the gaps in the bars.

This ferocious crocodile, encountering metal harder than its own teeth for the first time, was struck so violently that its yellowish-green gums bled. The bars of the cage were perfectly wedged against its jagged teeth.

The crocodile, propelled by the water, could easily leap and bite. But now, with most of its head above water, it hung stiffly on the cage, unable to go up or down, like a dentist who had to leave halfway through surgery, forced to bite the forceps and wait in awkward, painful silence.

Seizing the opportunity, I gripped the pole with both hands, lunged forward, and clenched my teeth, lunging at the crocodile's exposed jaw. The

sharp iron hook slid only three centimeters across the tiny scales on its jaw before the tip lifted the scales and hooked into the underlying flesh. Gripping the long pole tightly, I felt that instant, and with all my might, pulled upwards. One of the three hooks pierced the skin graft under the crocodile's jaw and emerged from its open mouth. The sharp hook didn't damage its upper jaw; instead, it burrowed into the gums filled with white, bony teeth, tightening the barb around the crocodile's mouth.

The pain of its jaw being pierced sent a jolt through the crocodile, its thick tail and hind legs thrashing about underwater like a suddenly activated propeller, splashing white water everywhere. The damage from the hook far outweighed the pain of its frantic bites into the cage. At this point, it no longer cared about the trapped teeth; its entire body began to roll and twist with the help of the water, its back and belly alternating as it struggled desperately against the cage.

The wooden pole in my hand vibrated powerfully, leaving my arms numb and sore, but compared to killing a crocodile in the mud, I felt much more at ease. The large boat was high and steep; as long as I didn't go into the water, I didn't need to worry about being bitten. Even if I lost control of the long pole, or if it broke, the rope tied to the gun emplacement would still hold the hook firmly, ensuring I wouldn't lose my prey.

I didn't rush to lift the crocodile hooked to its jaws, deliberately letting it struggle first, exhausting its strength and causing it to bleed. The other crocodiles, still raising their massive jaws, rammed and bit at the Canggui inside the iron cage.

The Canggui's cries were full of sobs; it finally succumbed to fear, letting out repentant sobs. At this moment, let alone interrogating him about the location of the heroin hideout, it would probably blurt out even embarrassing things like stealing a pencil stub from its classmate as a child. The will to survive had completely erased all its past arrogance and domineering behavior.

A stench of human excrement rose from the water; the once-powerful bandit leader had now revealed his true form, admitting that he too was born of human parents.

The crocodile hooked, its initial violent struggle due to pain, completely subsided. I began to lift it up with the long pole. Only when its entire thick body was out of the water did I realize that this creature was quite large, much more robust than it appeared underwater.

During the lifting process, the crocodile's own centripetal force created a pulling force between its jaws and the iron hook. This pain caused it to leap and thrash several times in the air, like a lizard caught on a fishhook, its limbs frantically paddling as if trying to use the air to alleviate the pain of the hook.

Under the influence of gravity and the pulling force, blood gushed from the crocodile's hooked wounds, flowing down its bluish-gray scales and white-yellow belly in a serpentine pattern. Perhaps the lemur's head or feet had been injured by the crocodiles' teeth; the water around the cage was stained with both black and red blood.

The black blood was likely from the blood remaining in the lemur's veins after its death, turning black due to lack of oxygen, while the red blood was naturally from the still-breathing lemur and the crocodiles below the hook.

To catch as many crocodiles as possible before the lemur, as a live bait, became ineffective, I rapidly manipulated the long pole, using the intervals between the crocodiles' struggles to pull them upwards as quickly as possible.

Chapter 108: The muscles in the arms and back of the crocodile

, bulging with intense force, were taut. This alligator weighed about 150 pounds, but it was a violent creature. Lifting it required not only precise control of the force but also vigilance against danger.

The crocodile's two small front claws, like childlike fingers, trembled as it tried to hook onto the side of the boat. However, the boat was sloping, and if it stretched too far, the hooks in its mouth would tear even more painfully. In the end, it could only let itself be slowly lifted by me.

I couldn't pull the crocodile onto the deck all at once; that would be like putting prey in a ring for a duel. With the goal of hunting for food, any injury to myself would be meaningless, and there was no time for such delays. The iron cage,

like a package tumbling off a train, was being fought and torn apart by the group of native aquatic crocodiles. The crocodile, as if sensing its front claws about to grab the gunwale, flashed a cold, ruthless light in its two clear, dark red-amber eyes, as if seeing a lifeline.

At first, I thought the crocodile was crying from the pain, but cold-blooded animals rely on sunlight as a secondary energy source and are devoid of emotion. It must have planned this all along, pouncing on my calf, the closest it came to its teeth, as soon as it reached the deck . Its pupils dilated with excitement, its protective membrane contracted, and fluid oozed

out. This abnormality immediately alerted me. The crocodile's lips were sticky with fine, bluish-green duckweed, like it had just drunk a mouthful of green oatmeal, its tongue not yet having touched its lips. When it was only half a meter away from me, I struggled to clamp the long pole tightly between my left arm and waist, freeing one hand.

The crocodile's dark red pupils dilated dramatically, as if its teeth were about to retaliate for the pain in its jaw. But it didn't know that what I was standing on was already in my hand.

Using my upper body, I tilted the crocodile, turning its body sideways to the deck. The creature was like a child fighting with a bully, its head pinned down, desperately reaching out for its arm, its fingertips only able to touch the hem of the bully's clothes.

Leaning slightly back, I first positioned the crocodile's left foreleg on the gunwale. It was very accustomed to gripping the gunwale; perhaps because its jaw was particularly painful from the hook, that small paw, once it grasped the gunwale, acted like a magnet, quickly distributing its weight and relieving the pain.

Seeing the crocodile's unwavering resolve, it began to twist and wiggle its body, trying to hook its second foreleg as well. With a flick of my wrist, gripping the hammer, I swung my arm in a wide arc, smashing it down hard on the dark, fleshy paw that was propping up the gunwale. With a "splat," scales and flesh, along with blood, ripped from the crocodile's foot bone.

"Clang, clang." Before the crocodile could even cry out in pain, I delivered two more solid blows. The crocodile hadn't even sunbathed yet; its blood, like ice-cold soda, splattered foam onto my face. The seemingly withered paw, unexpectedly, burst with such plump, juicy flesh after just one hammer blow.

The final blow of the hammer missed its mark, mainly because the crocodile's claw bone was severely broken. The remaining, slender bones made close contact with the metal edge of the ship's side, inevitably sending sparks flying. The

broken forepaw, pulled back rapidly by the crocodile, was dragged into the river. The three large crocodiles below, like well-trained guard dogs, leaped to catch the bone thrown by their master. Their V-shaped mouths opened in unison, like giant carnivorous plants, snatching the tiny, fly-sized piece of flesh into their jaws.

The one that got its fill, like Pigsy tasting ginseng fruit for the first time, didn't even have time to savor it before its neck stiffened and its eyes widened in shock. The others, unable to get a piece, could only drool and attack the cage even more furiously.

The crippled crocodile struggled violently once more, but I controlled the hook rod, dissipating its force in time. As long as the crocodile was in mid-air, its power couldn't be unleashed. "Ugh, ugh, ooh," a heart-wrenching cry of pain squeezed from the crocodile's throat. Using the same technique, I smashed off its other front paw.

The crocodile was severely exhausted and bleeding; its violent struggles were gradually weakening, almost like a caged ghost. Without its two front paws, the crocodile looked awkward, but it was much safer for the person trying to catch it.

Like in a tug-of-war, I braced my feet against the gunwale, gripped the hook with my left arm, and leaned back. The crocodile's neck seemed to be caught on the gunwale, its long head pulled close, revealing its bumpy scales. Its eyes, no longer sharp, were now dull and lifeless, like a township official who had drunk too much cheap liquor, drooping his eyelids as he listened to flattery.

The dagger in my boot, which had slit countless enemy throats and blinded countless fierce eyes, now seemed to echo my free right hand.

"Sss, sss." With two very smooth cutting sounds, the pair of translucent red amber eyes of the crocodile firmly held in front of me were gouged out by the sharp tip of a knife, like two jelly-like red strawberries, sliding down the sides of its cheeks and onto the hard deck with a splattering sound.

The pain of gouging out its eyes was perhaps a catalyst that stimulated the crocodile to release the last bit of energy in its body. The crocodile's entire body, like a gymnastic loop on a horizontal bar, its thick, long tail swung up onto the deck with a whoosh.

The momentum was like a stick and a whip, whistling through the air. I suddenly used the momentum to pull back, dragging the crocodile's entire body onto the deck. Before the crocodile could lunge at me with its memory from before it went blind, I leaped onto the gun emplacement like an agile ape, quickly tightening the rope connecting the crocodile's mouth, making the crocodile obediently tethered within two meters of the gun emplacement, like an old ox with iron rings in its nostrils.

The crocodile, now missing its forepaws, resembled a prehistoric Tyrannosaurus Rex, though its kneeling posture contrasted sharply with its appearance.

Its empty eye sockets constantly oozed a dark reddish-blue fluid, like an old man overwhelmed with grief, his eyes filled with blood and tears. Although its ears were invisible, anyone with eyes who dared approach rashly would still be pounced upon by its gaping maw, drawn by its scent, the only question being whether it would bite off its head or one of its limbs.

Luya and Yiliang remained at the bow, continuing their shooting practice. They knew that as long as I didn't shout, I could handle the situation without bothering others, so the two girls never glanced at the chaos of my crocodile hunt.

I ran back to the ammunition depot, smashed down another steel rod, as thick as a wrist, two and a half meters long, and weighing thirty kilograms, from the torture rack. Grabbing the rod, I quickly ran back to the deck, as if this iron bar were a relay baton in a race.

Two women, clutching their heavy breasts, stood at the cabin door carrying small buckets. Seeing me running in and out, they seemed startled and kept peering onto the deck.

"Don't be afraid, just go up and get water. As long as you're on the deck, I guarantee you'll be safe," I told them as I passed them.

Chapter 109: The Ignorant Scramble for Water.

Like a domesticated dog, the crocodile was firmly controlled beneath the gun emplacement by a shortened leash. I stood beside the blind crocodile, holding an iron rod, using it as a focal point, and began to move left and right, searching for an opportunity to strike.

At the cabin door, the two women, who wanted to get water, timidly moved onto the deck, went around to the port side of the opposite cabin door, and began to fetch river water to rinse the interior of the large ship.

The crocodile's enormous head, topped with two black holes, shook its head from side to side like a frightened rooster, earnestly listening for the approaching danger.

Using the tip of the long steel rod, I tapped the deck on the right side of the blind crocodile, causing it to misjudge its attack. Just as the crocodile heard the sound and shifted its stance to pounce, I gripped the rod with both hands, raised it vertically overhead,

and in a frog-jump motion, I pulled myself up from my diaphragm and swung the steel rod, almost touching my back, down hard. With a loud "bang," the metal tip of the rod vibrated continuously, like the sound of bees fluttering their wings. My palms, forefinger, and arms were also numb from the impact. The blind crocodile's forehead suffered tremendous damage, and its supporting hind legs, like scaffolding suddenly losing power, collapsed under the tyranny of gravity.

Large blood spots appeared on the crocodile's dark eye sockets, like a paintbrush dipped in red paint being slammed against the elbow and thrown out of control. Before the crocodile could even let out a low growl, the second blow landed quickly.

The impact produced a cracking sound as the skull shattered. The crocodile's mouth and nose, like a speeding car, rolled over the muddy water, splattering countless sticky droplets.

I struck viciously, oblivious to the blood splattering across my face and chest. The steel rod rose and fell rapidly, like a cleaver chopping meat for dumplings, making a smacking sound of flesh being torn apart.

Two women carrying river water passed behind me, huddled against the cabin wall, inching towards the door. Seeing my violent and bloody beating of the crocodile, they were so frightened that their hands and feet trembled, spilling the full buckets of river water several times.

I stopped swinging the steel rod, turned my blood-splattered face, and stared with unusually white eyes at the two terrified, beautiful mature women, their plump, white legs pressed tightly together, one hand supporting their full breasts, the other clutching the small bucket, trembling. I slightly gestured towards the hatch with my chin, signaling them to hurry inside and rinse the ship's interior to

remove bacteria. The blind crocodile had to die quickly, without a trace of life left, because the hooks and ropes were still attached to it; without removing them, it couldn't continue hunting. The hammering of the steel rod was indeed fierce; the hard, muscular crocodile succumbed in less than a minute.

We removed the blood-dripping hooks from its mangled mouth, then released the ropes from the gun emplacement to continue hunting the crocodiles gathered below. The shape of the iron cage had drastically changed, resembling a stomped-on soda can. Even with its back tucked back, the Canggui's abdomen still bulged out like a fat woman's belly against a railing.

The crocodiles in the river, driven almost mad by this meager meal, even started biting each other, like people crowding onto a bus or train, their fascination with the thrill of the fight turning into a violent brawl.

The Canggui's belly was badly torn by the crocodile teeth, and the water around the iron cage was stained with blood. It wasn't until Chi Chun brought me a steaming bowl of otter meat to the deck that I felt exhausted and my stomach growled with hunger. "Eat, ah..." With a scream from Chi Chun, I turned my bloodied face to look at her. "You scared me to death! What happened to you? Uh! So many crocodiles, their deaths were so gruesome."

Chi Chun had been busy in the cabin and didn't know I was hunting crocodiles on the deck. She was only focused on bringing the food, so it was expected that she would be startled by the sudden bloodshed. The dozen or so crocodiles killed were all quite large, but most of their heads were smashed to pieces, their brains and livers splattered all over the ground.

The Canggui's screams hadn't stopped since the first crocodile lunged and bit the iron cage. The terrifying morphine injections had a limited duration of effect and side effects. From the groans and moans coming from below the boat, it wasn't hard to hear the cries of a dying man, those plaintive sobs, as if he were bargaining before signing a death pact.

Chi Chun's otter meat was exceptionally delicious; once a girl becomes a woman, her charm only amplifies. The color and aroma of food, combined with a woman's beauty, occasionally resonate, satisfying and elevating the heart of any man.

I devoured the otter meat at the pace of a marching meal, gulping down the broth that Chi Chun had dipped his thumb into when

he held the bowl. I felt as if my whole body had been injected with powerful heat. Wiping the blood from my face, I resumed hunting the stupid, greedy crocodiles. They refused to give up on this tempting offer—visible, fragrant, yet unattainable. The native crocodiles were unaware that this strangely shaped iron cage was part of a trap. These mud-covered creatures, clinging to the unrealistic dream of instant wealth, struggled amidst the bloody stench emanating from the cage.

Several broad-snouted crocodiles, smugly holding onto their positions after scraping scrapes of meat from the gecko with their teeth, were completely oblivious to the fact that their kind were being pulled away one by one by the meat hooks, the amount of meat on those hooks enough to burst their mouths.

Surrounded by the tempting iron cage, splashing and writhing, the energy and time spent expending could have been safely and effectively used to catch dragonfish and otters. But desire and illusion can always lure impulsive animals with unrealistic dreams, leading them to their naive deaths.

The vast forest, its rising steam dried by the slanting sun, will soon be replenished with new moisture, continuing the cycle. The river's flow has slowed significantly, accelerating sedimentation and making the visibility of the water much greater from the large boat. The various birds that escaped their nests in the morning, now full, are returning, chirping as they go.

The only thing that hasn't changed is the position of the large boat; the large anchors at the bow and stern, gripped by something, have remained motionless on the turbulent river for two days straight.

Lu Ya and Yi Liang started by shooting small birds and animals in the forests on both banks from a distance of two hundred meters; they estimate that by now, searching for targets, their range has extended to six hundred meters.

I used a dagger to skin and flesh five crocodiles, dumping chunks of meat into a large basin that Chi Chun and the other women had brought over. This food would be more than enough for a high-class banquet in the hall that evening.

"Which targets did you shoot? Yi Liang, you report first." While keeping my head down and quickly butchering the crocodiles, I also kept an eye on the two girls' sniping training. Yi Liang stopped shooting, rubbing her aching neck with her left hand, her face dripping with sweat, and said, "Mostly monkeys, about the size of lemurs, but some were too small. If I missed the first shot, they would run away and disappear before I could shoot again."

Chapter 110: The Raptor on the Yellow Moon Branch

"Smack!" A piece of fatty meat accurately landed in the large basin. I took a breath, thinking about Yi Liang's words. After a moment's thought, I said to her, "Practicing with monkeys should be easier. Try to shoot their heads, the heart is secondary. If one day you're facing a sniper, even if you hit their heart first, if their willpower is amazing, they can still use the last 8-9 seconds before death to catch your image and shoot you. Headshots are the safest shooting position for snipers."

The evening sun was exceptionally red, and the wind swirling in the afterglow was like an old air conditioner, blowing on the exposed skin, alternating between cool and hot, teasing one's emotions. Only I knew that this was a life-or-death race against death. Any unnecessary rest or unreasonable behavior would be squeezed out by the time it takes to kill, resulting in the loss of everyone on board.

The light on the deck changed from dark red to blackish red. Lu Ya and Yi Liang stopped shooting, their faces filled with the joy of fulfillment and liberation. They slung their sniper rifles over their shoulders and, together with me, dragged the dead crocodile into the cabin hall.

The stench emitted by crocodiles during slaughter was exceptionally strong, detectable to most predators within a kilometer radius. Fortunately, the large ship was in the middle of the river; if it had been on land near a forest, the danger would have been immense.

As I dragged the last three-meter-long crocodile towards the hatch, I could see a wide-ranging, unusual tremor in the woods on the opposite bank. These large, nocturnal predators have remarkably sensitive noses, far surpassing those of dogs.

Even jungle leopards, capable of climbing trees and swimming, could only stand far away, sniffing the large ship with longing. A bird of prey, flapping its wings, landed on the stern. Though I couldn't make out its exact form, its dark shadow, resembling a low shrub, was quite large. As

soon as the crocodile's mangled head slid across the threshold, I quickly slammed the hatch shut. I figured that dark, flying creature was trying to scavenge scraps of meat from where I had slaughtered the crocodile; if it had a chisel-like mouth, it could even scrape the congealed blood on the deck.

It wasn't that they were stingy with the food, but many animals, once satisfied, would linger nearby. Even more frightening was that most herds, like ants, had scouts who would relay messages.

Hopefully, the blood and gore would be gnawed away and cleaned up during the night to prevent future trouble. Aside from birds with air superiority, it was difficult for clawed predators in the water to reach the deck.

The only connection between the large ship and the water was two rough anchor chains, which posed a potential danger, but a few small reptiles posed no threat at all.

Chi Chun searched every nook and cranny of the ship and only found twenty pounds of salt. She told me that the ship had no freezer; even the kitchen was just a one-cubic-meter freezer. After the ship anchored, the power had been cut off for two days to save electricity.

These circumstances made Chi Chun very anxious, but they were also things I had considered beforehand. Preserving the crocodile meat with salt was impossible, and freezing was even less feasible. We would have to rely on the sun-drying method we used when living in caves.

As long as we have sufficient food reserves and solve the problem of powering the large ship, we can head home and leave this primeval forest island filled with life and death. That

evening, because the crocodile meat was freshly cut from live animals, it was exceptionally fresh and delicious. I had Chi Chun prepare a late-night snack for everyone, to compensate for the stomachs of each woman who had been neglected for the past few days.

After the bait cage was brought onto the deck, Cang Gui had already breathed his last. The edges of his body had been gnawed open, revealing the white bone. On the top of his head, a thick piece of skin and flesh had been torn from the tip of the small crocodile's slender snout, revealing a hollow in which dried blood pooled. The soles and heels of his feet were nowhere to be seen; only swollen black blood vessels and tendons remained, like severed cables, exposed and trembling.

I sat alone in the middle of the hall, butchering the remaining crocodiles. The women, like the hardworking wives of fishermen, ate their fill and then, without complaint, busied themselves with the task. They turned the crocodile meat from the wooden basin onto the small round table and, together with Chi Chun, used kitchen knives to slice it.

Chi Chun knew that with so much meat, they would need the sun's heat tomorrow to ensure supplies for the ship's long voyage. To ease my burden, she again displayed her leadership skills, getting everyone else involved. They were preparing for tomorrow's work in advance.

Lu Ya and Yi Liang, two young girls who had practiced shooting all day, also joined in the food preparation. I wanted their hands to feel the blood and bits of meat; it would be helpful for their future combat experience.

Later that night, the tired women went to sleep. Several round tables were piled high with sliced meat. If the sun was strong enough tomorrow, they could simply carry these tables onto the deck, find some clean planks, and spread them out loosely.

I was also a bit tired and wanted to sleep for a while, so I found a door panel and placed it on the stairwell near the cabin door, clutching my fully loaded submachine gun, and waited until dawn. Every corner inside the large ship, under Chi Chun's command, was exceptionally cleaned and wiped, the smell of disinfectant still faintly lingering in the air.

"Plop plop plop plop, clump clump clump." Tonight's weather should be bright with a clear moon and few stars, no rain or sea breeze. This unusual noise rapidly assaulted my eardrums. It sounded like a bunch of clumsy ducks falling from trees onto the deck, their flapping wings reducing the impact.

I hurriedly ran back to my sleeping quarters and retrieved the small mirror from beside Chi Chun's small bed. Chi Chun was a beautiful woman who paid extreme attention to her appearance; no matter what difficulties she faced, she always made herself look exceptionally charming and beautiful. This small mirror became her personal treasure, used to examine her face every morning upon waking.

Back at the cabin door, just like when I spied on the ghost monkey last time, I quietly passed out the small lens held between the stick and the window. Kneeling on the edge of the stairs, I bent over, craning my neck and tilting my head, focusing half my eye on the reflection in the small lens.

This time, I didn't need the blessing of lightning. A round, yellowish moon hung in the greyish-blue night sky, like an eight-month pregnant belly, with occasional wisps of dark clouds, like drifting sailboats, passing by the light.

A cool breeze, mixed with the chirping of insects and the splashing of grass carp, squeezed in through the crack in the door. The world reflected in the small lens was nothing like daytime; it was as if I were glimpsing another world, mysterious and hostile.

"Whoosh, plop." Two or three more black shadows flapping their wings swept across the small lens, blurred by the moonlight. I still couldn't see what those things were, but the hairs on my arms were already standing on end. This scene was far more stimulating than dealing with humans, and it was precisely this kind of stimulation that I loathed most.

The small lens swayed back and forth, capturing the reflection of the target. The treetops on the opposite bank seemed to have grown taller overnight, obscuring the yellow moon from the branches, like countless sharp-toothed forks stabbing into a creamy mooncake.

Chapter 111: The Illusory Small Lens

Just as my wrist bent into a sickle shape, a small patch of shadow refracted onto my enlarged retina, startling my elbow so much that I almost knocked the small lens off the deck, attracting a flock of large, dark birds flapping their wings and pecking at it.

On the trees on the opposite bank, it looked like more than twenty old men in straw raincoats were squatting on the branches, fishing. The cool night dew condensed on the surface of the lens, and with the black shadows flapping on both sides, it was impossible to see what was on the trees. The bright yellow full moon was also blocked behind them, highlighting its dark and terrifying outline.

The deck on the right was being hammered with a thud, and by the sound, I could tell that their beaks were like hard iron chisels. Those dark creatures must be starving. Since the torrential rains of the day before yesterday, carnivorous birds have had the hardest time finding food.

The large boat, like a giant tree lying across the river, was being pecked at here and there by a flock of woodpeckers. The sound of them treating insects is gentle, but now it felt like they were pecking at the flesh on one's bones, each peck piercing the heart.

Sometimes, when something bothers you, it's best not to provoke it. I quietly withdrew my spyglass, picked up my now-warm submachine gun, and closed my eyes again. I hoped that by tomorrow morning, those dark birds would be gone without a trace. I could then rest up and continue with what I had planned, buying myself some time.

The boat seemed rooted to the ground, gripping the unpredictable depth of the riverbed, making it as stable as a concrete building, without the slightest sway. Exhaustion overwhelmed my strong body, and I soon fell asleep.

After waking up a second time from the cold, I didn't fall back asleep. I just kept my eyes closed, letting my consciousness churn in my mind. In another half hour, the sun would peek out from the horizon, just like yesterday morning, a delicate red but cold face.

The chirping of birds echoed from the woods on both sides of the river. Although I couldn't see the rising sun from inside the cabin, the melodious calls of the birds suggested that the larger birds on deck had already flown away. Peeking

through the crack in the door with my small lens, I saw the long, damp deck, steaming and extending to both ends of the ship. My wrist twisted into a sickle shape again, capturing a reflection that was vastly different from last night. In the inky blue dawn sky, the shadows on the canopies of the large trees were gone, leaving only empty spaces.

I lifted the cabin door and stepped out. The cool air was like the crowd outside a supermarket in the early morning, jostling for limited-edition, low-priced goods; the moment the door opened, the previous calm and tranquility vanished, replaced by a chaotic rush. The rapid drop in temperature quickly cleared my mind, shaking off the lingering weariness.

The deck where the crocodiles had been slaughtered was unrecognizable, like a desk used by a mischievous student for many years, pitted and scarred, yet still bearing the marks of their actions. I crouched down, touching the marks with my fingers to determine the claws and beaks of the predators; some pits were nearly half a centimeter deep. The deck was made of mahogany, not as strong as steel, but still quite hard.

Anxiety, like the pain in my fingers, traveled through my nerves to my heart. These still-unidentified birds of prey were no ordinary creatures; if it were a human being of flesh and blood, being scratched and pecked would be no better than being scratched by a monkey.

I climbed onto the gun emplacement, dripping with icy dew, and surveyed the surroundings through binoculars. The river and forest hundreds of meters away suddenly appeared before my eyes, the tiny grasses and polished stones still carefree and oblivious. The birds of prey greedily devoured the scraps of flesh and blood until the wood chips they chopped up no longer tasted blood, then they moved on. Now, within an 800-meter radius, there isn't a trace of them.

Too many dangers, ranked by importance and urgency, are arranged in my mind. The weather should be ideal; the humidity is too high now, and bringing the meat out of the round table too early would easily cause it to rot. Waiting until the sun climbs to 60 degrees Celsius is the best time for sunbathing.

Back in the sleeping pod, I woke Chi Chun to cook for everyone. Lu Ya and Yi Liang washed their sleepy faces in the small bucket of cool river water I filled, blinking their slightly red eyes, trying to look at me with forced energy.

The two girls' weariness seemed to cling to their faces, shrinking under the cold water, yet refusing to subside. "You two sleep a little longer. I'll wake you up after Chi Chun has made breakfast."

Hearing my words, the two remained silent and returned to their beds. Yesterday's shooting practice was an overloaded special training session, and they had also been busy sifting meat until late at night; it was probably around 5 or 6 a.m., which was indeed a bit early.

Letting them sleep a little longer was necessary. Firstly, I was worried about tiring out the two delicate girls, and secondly, I was concerned that lack of sleep would affect their shooting performance.

The ammunition depot door remained locked, and I kept the key. Last night, during the cleaning and disinfection, the inside wasn't cleaned. The remaining five small rubber rafts were all brand new. I took another one and inflated it in the hall.

Chi Chun's crocodile meat breakfast was delicious. Everyone was well-fed and warmly housed, and their faces were

flushed when they woke up. Their previously empty and fearful eyes had softened over the past few days. A woman with a healthy body and mind is beautiful in itself. The extra half hour of sleep was very effective for Lu Ya and Yi Liang; after drinking some hot soup, they regained their usual lively spirit.

"Are we practicing shooting again today?" Lu Ya asked, blinking her big eyes as she chewed on some crocodile meat. She had changed a lot; whenever sniper training was involved, her former childishness was nowhere to be seen.

“No, today is real combat.” I answered her and Yi Liang, handing the two live-fire sniper rifles, which I had personally adjusted and inspected, to the two young girls.

Chi Chun, along with the women who had finished eating, also went up to the deck. I glanced at them and then began assigning tasks in a low voice.

I carried all the ropes on the ship to the gun emplacement, connecting them of different lengths, leaving only three reaching 400 meters in length. I secured one end of each rope to the gun emplacement frame, placing the remaining lengths on inflated rubber rafts.

The sun was almost high enough to dry crocodile meat. Before setting off, I deliberately equipped myself: a submachine gun on my back, two pistols in my back pocket, two daggers in my boots, a broadsword slung across my waist, and a gleaming broadsword in my free right hand.

"Chi Chun, in half an hour, organize the women to carry the crocodile meat from the round table in the hall to the deck to dry. Remember to find some lightweight planks to move; don't just spread it out on the deck."

Drying the meat was something Chi Chun had already anticipated. In her mind, she probably imagined herself and the women neatly arranging the meat slices on the dry, clean deck, like collecting seashells on a beach. But now, hearing my reminder, her delicate brows furrowed, sensing an indescribable heaviness in the man's heart.

Chapter 112: Remote Lumberjack Guardian

Clinging to the anchor chain, I descended onto the small raft. The river water, now rippling with a bluish-green hue, resembled a mirror about to melt. I grabbed the oars and easily paddled towards the opposite bank. Yi Liang raised his binoculars, standing on the high gun emplacement, observing the forested bank I was approaching.

The large tree that had struck my back after being swept away by the swift current of the day before was long gone. Along the banks, the upright trees that had been submerged and lay horizontally were nowhere to be seen.

The axe I carried wasn't for chopping wood, but for selectively felling the suitable beams for masts. After reaching the shore, I placed the small raft on a dense patch of water plants on the shallow bank, securing the raft's rope to the nearest large trees. From the large ship to the raft, there were three cableways spaced a meter apart.

Looking back at the large ship, I saw Lu Ya and Yi Liang, both prone on the gun emplacement, eyes pressed against their sniper scopes, raising their right hands—the barrels of their rifles—and giving a simultaneous thumbs-up.

The meaning was clear: everything was safe, and I could continue deeper. With two sniper rifles on the large ship providing constant protection, I could focus on logging with peace of mind.

A straight, towering tree, reaching for the sky, for them, rapid growth and vying for sunlight and water were the only safe options. But at this moment, the axes beneath the tree were searching for such plants, damaging the trunk above the soil, causing the tree's canopy to lose its balance and fall.

This dense, lush forest was composed of hundreds of millions of such enormous trees. My previous perilous experience made me realize that all the plants and animals here were in a cyclical system, interconnected rather than isolated.

I crouched down on a crooked log, steadied myself, and gently swung the axe in my hand, first finding the right spot to break it. The axe blade was extremely sharp; even a slight tap on the dark green bark cut deep.

The two girls, intently moving their sniper rifles, began searching me within a hundred meters by land, water, and air. "Kong, kong, kong..." With each swing of the axe, the bark, riddled with grooves, began to shatter and scatter. Water droplets fell from above like a sudden downpour.

I first chopped downwards with the axe, then upwards, widening the V-shaped wound until the base of the tree, too weak to withstand the pressure of the crown, collapsed with a crash. The sound of the axe striking the tree was dull and solid, like a blade slicing through hot cheese, incredibly penetrating.

Humans are very insensitive to this sound, but to the animals of the jungle, the sound of logging is like a loudspeaker on an open-air stage. A sharp gunshot rang out from the deck. A red-tailed trevally fell from the high canopy.

This creature was dark green on its back, pale yellowish-green on its belly, but turned brick red at the tip of its tail. No wonder I hadn't noticed it before I swung the axe so hard, looking up for so long. Fortunately, the sniper scope on the ship allowed for a clear view, and I managed to shoot it down in time.

The axe, though it shook the tree, wasn't enough to knock it down; instead, it provoked it to attack me. Had I spotted it any later, allowing it to adjust its position and leap vertically into my neck for a bite, the probability of injury would have been much higher than ever before.

This wasn't the first time I'd encountered such a chillingly venomous creature. During jungle warfare in Thailand, a teammate had been bitten on the ankle by misplaced hands and feet, resulting in a swollen, painful blister that bled profusely.

The bullet struck the snake's belly, its thickest part. If it were a sniper of my caliber, I would have easily shattered its flat, triangular head—a child's game, utterly devoid of enjoyment.

Luya, crouching on the gun emplacement with her sniper rifle, didn't show any excitement. She earnestly used her right hand to mimic the motion of a knife cutting across her throat, indicating that the target was dead. The snake's body was actually floating beneath the crossbeam I was standing on, only its long, thin red tail swaying like a fishing float, rising and falling with the ripples.

I continued to grip the log, swinging the hammer even more fiercely at the tree. The muscles in my limbs bulged and protruded under the immense force of my blows. The hard muscles on my left chest had swelled to the level of my chin.

For a long time, I had relied mainly on running and long-range shooting in combat, and because I rarely engaged in melee, my muscles, though usually quite prominent, were nowhere near as developed as they were now. In the reflection of the water, I saw my chest and back muscles, their outlines twice the thickness of my waist.

"Giggle, creak, creak." The tree finally succumbed to the damage from the fierce axe and began to groan as it was about to topple. I chopped a few more times, as if giving it a quick death.

The tree rings within the wood were blurred and indistinguishable under the axe. But the moisture-laden debris, carrying the unique fresh scent of wood, splattered onto my arms, chest, and face. I love the scent of this beautiful tree; it stirs up my longing to go home.

"Giggle, giggle." From the sound, I knew the tree's center of gravity had shifted eighty degrees. I quickly dodged, sideways behind the fallen tree, and pushed with both arms. Whoosh! Water splashed everywhere, and the massive canopy plunged into the shallow water.

The nameless little fish under the water plants were startled, disappearing like shadows after the lights were turned off. Some, in their escape, even thought the water wasn't fast enough, leaping out of the water, only to crash into the dry, slanted, rotten wood, sticking to it for a moment. After catching their breath and gathering some strength, they bent their matchstick-sized bodies and, with a bit of luck, returned to the water, diving straight to the bottom, never daring to approach the surface again.

Although the canopy was large and covered in thorns, it couldn't harm any of the fish. They can detect unusual shadows on the water's surface early on with their bulging eyes and avoid them in time.

The fright isn't without consequence; many fish didn't go far before returning. This wasn't the first time they'd faced this situation. Schools of grass carp would come to peck at the tender leaves on the branches, while other schools of fish would swarm in, catching ants and leaf-eating insects that had fallen into the water.

These food chains weren't isolated; small schools of fish would attract larger schools to prey on them, and the larger schools would attract even worse predators. To avoid being caught in the chain reaction of danger, I quickly swung my axe, stripping the tree crown bare—partly to scare away the fish, and partly to process the beams for transporting it back to the deck.

The large tree, fifteen meters long and one meter thick, lay leaning against the bank. After clearing away the branches and twigs, I put down my axe and began to move it towards the diving surface. Because of the surrounding environment, moving a large tree was much more difficult than on flat ground, so I had to rely on leverage to move it little by little.

One end of the trunk, like a cannon raised at a forty-five-degree angle, resembled a seesaw. By controlling one end and utilizing the principle of resonance, the massive log, weighing thousands of pounds, could be propelled forward several meters. The muscles in my arms had swelled to their limit, the bulging veins resembling crawling earthworms.

Chapter 113: Stacking Dangers and Squeezing Time.

The straight log, rolled into the shallow water of the riverbank, was much easier to maneuver. I untied one of the three ropes connecting the large ship and tied it to the top of the felled log. I waved towards the gun emplacement, and Chi Chun and several women began to pull.

With the help of the buoyancy of the water, the thick, long log quickly approached the ship. I picked up the axe again and chopped down the tree behind me. Standing in the dense forest, I could feel the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the canopy, carrying a slight warmth.

After securing the ropes, Chi Chun and the others began to dry the crocodile meat. The warm forest, like a writhing green troll, made even a single tree feel like a toe wound, even from the edge.

The heavy, powerful axe caused considerable damage to any tall plant it struck. I kept chopping, and the faint light gradually became full and warm, like the sky's blacksmith forging a blazing iron sword, thrusting it diagonally into the forest.

Large drops of sweat, after the axe on my arm collided with the trees, were shaken and scattered, like the galloping hooves of warhorses across a clear stream, kicking up countless tiny water droplets. Whenever sweat threatened to seep into my eyes, I would shake my head sharply from side to side, my long hair whipping and fluttering with the hot sweat on my face.

The sound of the axe striking the tree was like the war drums of two armies, provoking the forest and all the unknown predatory life within it. The second tree, before being felled, had no venomous snakes; only a poison dart frog, yellow like orange peel, with its four small, transparent, jelly-like claws, lay prone on the rough, walnut-shell-like bark, showing no intention of moving aside.

To fell such a large, living tree would require over six hundred swings of the axe; by now, the feel and accuracy were already assured. The poison dart frog's arrogance and refusal to move aside wasn't out of stubbornness or laziness, but rather a sinister intent.

What it most desired was for an animal without sharp teeth and claws to extend its tongue or expose its bare skin to make contact. This contact would be far from intimate, but rather the heaviest price to pay for its life.

The splinter in the monkey's blowpipe, coated with poison, must have been the venom from the poison dart frog's skin. I had intended to swing the axe and cut this tiny yet despicable creature in half. But then I considered that the impact would splatter flesh onto me.

The poisonous frog had a shallow understanding of axes and human awareness, believing that only animals killed by its venom would know this time-saving, advantageous, and shameful trick.

Finally, I struck the bark of the tree beneath the frog's rear with the axe's edge, then with a sudden, forceful upward slash, like catching an oncoming tennis ball, and launched it with a heavy thud. The little creature's arrogance only became apparent when it was tossed through the air. Its helpless,

ugly clawing and scratching hadn't even had a chance to fully display its power before it plunged headfirst into the water ten meters away. Although much better than being smashed against a hard log, the force of the axe's wrist-flipping motion was enough to shatter its internal organs and break its bones.

The Sea Demon's ship should be setting sail and approaching here. To leave silently before the more skilled pirates appeared, I combined the two dangers I faced. Although this increased the possibility of death, it bought me half the time.

Having witnessed the leopard cats scrambling for food in the caves, I know all too well the stinginess of this island's forests. Taking its food is far from a simple hunt; you can't just pick it up and go home to eat and drink in peace.

Even drying food comes at a price. I should have been on the large ship with Luya Yiliang, guarding the crocodile meat we were storing for two days, and then spending another two or three days cutting down the necessary timber. This caused a significant delay.

If the large ship couldn't start, we could only rely on the masts and the life-saving sea breezes to slowly propel it towards the coast of a country. However, this time difference would be at least five days longer than with the Sea Demon.

Ships powered by masts are safest at night, without worrying about radar or sonar detecting the rotating motors, but their speed is primitively slow. If a pirate ship in the sparsely populated high seas saw such a poorly maintained large ship, it would be like a thug in a deserted night street, drooling and ready to molest a drunken, sluggish, naked girl.

The cargo ships and passenger ships were also quite fast. For the Sea Demon to rob them, its propulsion system would need to be modified—like chasing an antelope, it would need the speed of a lion or leopard.

I had observed the operation and control of large ships; internal combustion engines could launch them, but the crew's equipment and training would take at least two weeks. This meant that the Sea Demon would appear near the island, and our group of mostly inexperienced female sailors would pass right through their radar's scanning zone, followed by a fierce chase and counter-chase.

The only feasible method was to squeeze out time, ensuring that the mast-powered ships had at least five days to escape this area before the end of the month. No matter how much we thought about it, we couldn't escape this malicious wheel of fate. When obtaining something requires paying two or more times the price, it ultimately leads to the death of the numb and weak.

The decks of the large ships had become a source of bloodshed, creating a tempting allure for the unpredictable dangers in the forest. The sound of my axe striking the trees was like the splashing water from a fishing rod, a harbinger of approaching danger.

This danger was the price of buying time; I couldn't stop after every swing to climb a tree and check through binoculars for any approaching threats. My greatest hope rested on the two girls perched on the gun emplacement, gripping their sniper rifles.

Their marksmanship, especially Luya's sniping talent, was evident in their successful kill of the red-tailed trevally. The probability of nearly dying from a misfire the other day was greatly reduced.

I waved my arms frantically, hoping to fell twenty large trees before lunch. The constant crackling of sniper rifles echoed from the deck; each time, Luya or Yiliang would give me a professional hand gesture, telling me to continue chopping wood until the danger was cleared.

At this point, long-range protection meant that not every bullet would claim a life. Before disembarking to cut down trees, I told the two of them to try to drive away the monkeys that appeared around them, spreading these lively, chattering baits as far as possible. Unless absolutely necessary, they should not bleed the mammals.

This method is effective to some extent against neutral aggressive animals, but those with large appetites and accustomed to dominating their territory are not worth compromising with. They ignore the monkeys being driven away and excitedly approach the source of the dull logging sound, displaying the savage, domineering spirit of their native nature.

Ever since that storm that night, which shattered our will and recklessly swept the ship here, I have been deeply enraged. Silent wisdom combined with sharp attacks has been my way of venting my anger against the injustice of fate amidst the bloodshed over the years.

Chapter 114: The Deadly Cicada's Formation

. Changes had already begun in the intricate foliage before, behind, and to the left. For a sniper like me, while the human sense of smell and hearing cannot physiologically surpass the hunting skills of leopards and bears, my vision and mental acuity far surpass those of the average hunter.

Before I decided to fell the large trees around me, I had already

taken detailed pictures of the area in front, behind, and to the left. For example, the outline of the row of low vines on the front side, the density or sparseness of the leaves on the edges, and the colors of each small flower were all captured by my eyes like a camera and imprinted in my mind.

Relying on years of training and professional combat experience, no matter how well the enemy camouflaged, as long as the colors differed from the pictures I had saved, or if there was a sudden increase in density in areas where leaves were sparse, I could detect it in time and take preventative measures.

Many European snipers are masters of camouflage. When my team encountered one of them, he had taken cover in a palm tree, but because his camouflage included a pine branch stuck in his head, he was shot in the head and killed by me at a distance of 956 meters.

This life-or-death atmosphere of real combat honed my almost obsessive ability to perceive and compare in different environments. If I encountered a sniper of equal skill, like that A-level sniper general, the deciding factor in victory or death would no longer be technique, but luck.

Tiny insects five meters away wouldn't even register on my radar; the axe in my hand, like a miner's shovel in a mine collapse, would relentlessly hammer and chisel, never daring to stop for a moment.

The roots of large trees are mostly submerged in water, and the vibrations can travel far underwater. I had already hunted many adult broad-snouted crocodiles in the nearby waters yesterday. Those that escaped the hook no longer dared to chase and bite me as wildly as before when I was carrying a large otter.

However, many crocodiles that hadn't been hooked or were simply greedy and audacious hid under the swaying seaweed, searching for gaps in the crossbeams, attempting to get close and bite my legs.

They didn't know that deep water was the safest place, where they could use the refraction of light to protect themselves. Since I dared to disregard everything and come to the shallows to chop down large trees, I wasn't doing it for nothing.

Luya and Yiliang's sniper rifles fired scorching bullets at the crocodiles, their backs laden with broken grass, as they approached within twenty meters, killing them on the riverbank. From the churning, wine-red mud and the violent ripples, one could sense a large school of piranhas feasting.

The riverbank, being low-lying, was like watching goldfish in a glass tank for the snipers on deck. So, any predator approaching from the river was like a mantis stalking a cicada.

After the fifth large tree creaked and fell, a small, open area of about twenty square meters appeared. I stood inside and began trimming the excess branches and leaves from the canopy. "Coo-coo-coo, hoo-hoo..." Accompanied by inexplicable bird calls, it was as if someone was releasing carrier pigeons from afar. Looking up at the dark green canopy shimmering with the seven colors of sunlight, it was like a child standing under a dense grape trellis.

The echoing calls circled in the forest. I could easily discern a murderous aura approaching from the positions of ten o'clock and one o'clock. I reached for my submachine gun at my feet, crouched gently against the leaning tree, protecting my back, and faced the large ship. I made a circle with my thumb and the other four fingers, signaling to the sniper on deck that something had happened and to search for the target.

On the large ship, Luya and Yiliang also sensed the approaching danger. Yiliang raised her hand, palm facing down, and told me she had spotted a dangerous animal. Luya remained motionless, firmly gripping her sniper rifle, her eyes pressed against the scope, ready to seize the opportunity to fire.

I don't know what the little girl is muttering to herself right now, but it's certainly no longer asking her master for food. Danger, like a veiled enchantress, is still slowly approaching me. From Yi Liang's gestures, I immediately guessed it was a jungle leopard.

In this terrain, only felines, with their excellent jumping and climbing abilities, can reach this spot from the dead logs lying across the water's surface. Bears and wild boars don't possess such skills, so they are the least likely to hunt here.

My gun-wielding might be noticed by the approaching predators, or perhaps they hesitated before attacking because of my unfamiliar appearance, assessing the cost-effectiveness of biting me, or whether I was edible, and whether my entrails tasted like monkeys.

The leopards I had previously shot didn't have their markings around me. Images of the environment in my memory flashed through my mind, comparing them to the original images of the lush vegetation that had appeared later.

First left, then right, my eyes seemed to become a scanning machine. Five minutes passed, and the unusual agitation subsided. No sniper rifle fire was heard on deck; after all, sniper scopes don't offer CT scan capabilities. This apparent return to calm was largely a deception created by the predators before their attack. Once they believed their target was off guard, they would launch a deadly pounce from thirty or forty meters away with lightning speed.

These large predators, skilled at hunting herbivores, considered themselves apex predators, moving about without restraint, utterly disregarding any small prey at their mercy. Their ignorance prevented them from realizing that their petty, thuggish skills were beneath their notice.

Trying to outlast a sniper like me in terms of endurance and explosive power would be fatal. I could hide in a tree for three days and three nights to kill a fellow professional. Human combat methods largely stem from imitating animals, yet we cunningly surpass them, ascending to the top of the food chain.

Suddenly, a dense clump of vines became thicker than I remembered. I quickly released the safety, waiting for it to pounce from that position. The ancient culture of China, a land of profound wisdom, seems to have revealed the secrets of survival to future generations.

"One wolf feigns sleep, another seeks to cut off its rear." Though the hidden danger remains unseen, it's certain that whether it's a wolf, hyena, or leopard, this tactic, used thousands of years ago, is less effective now. Even if it makes them think it's a clever method.

In the mercenary camp, most of my tactical training was based on Chinese military strategy and the art of evasion. The local government, unwilling to reveal their reverence for Chinese culture, deliberately feigned disdain. Sometimes, out of jealousy, they shamelessly persecuted overseas Chinese. I

once severely beat a rogue who, relying on his Southeast Asian heritage, frequented a Chinese noodle shop, eating dumplings on credit and even groping the proprietress when drunk.

The owners, knowing my background, claimed we were half-bloods and told me to come to their noodle shop for dumplings if I was hungry. I was only fourteen at the time, on the verge of homelessness.

Chapter 115: Beating Up the Flies

After joining the mercenary camp, having no relatives outside, the Chinese noodle shop and its owners became my comfort and source of comfort. Sometimes, if I hadn't visited for a month, they would bring their children and freshly cooked dumplings to visit me near the camp.

Many team members asked if they were my brother and sister-in-law, and I said no, we were compatriots from the same country. They were all stunned and envious that I had such delicious dumplings to eat. Until one time, I went to their noodle shop and sat down to eat.

Several local young men in their twenties, speaking rudely, kept gesturing about the proprietress's breasts and buttocks, spewing vulgarities. The noodle shop owner, not wanting to provoke these flies, pretended not to hear. But many customers' faces showed their dissatisfaction with the dining atmosphere.

Because the noodle shop's food was delicious, economical, and affordable, many local office workers often brought their families or friends to eat there and experience Chinese culture. After each meal, the owner would give them small, traditional Chinese gifts, and they were all very friendly.

These thugs, knowing the owner wasn't a local and afraid of causing trouble and affecting their business, openly ran up tabs. They would bring people here to eat and drink to excess, then leave without paying any bill. This time, having just had a few drinks, they started groping the owner's wife next to me.

"Friends, I have a package, top-quality stuff. If you're interested, let's go check it out in the alley across the street," I said, standing up and walking over, hands in my pockets, dressed in plain clothes.

Seeing that I was about their age and alone, the thugs exchanged knowing glances. It was clear they planned to gang up on me in the alley, take the package, and then go back to eating, drinking, and laughing.

Arriving at that narrow, dark, and damp alley, I found it littered with discarded melon rinds and cigarette butts tossed in by passersby, and even sanitary napkins used by a young woman in the back window of a high-rise building. A gust of wind blew by, carrying the stench of urine from the sidewalk.

To increase the mystery and whet the appetites of the thugs, I deliberately ventured deeper into the alley. Four or five guys, exchanging glances, eagerly followed suit.

"Come here, let me show you, high-purity stuff. It's free this time, and I'll deliver regularly from now on." The young man who had pinched the proprietress's buttocks while drunk was probably the ringleader. Hearing about such a good job, given away for free, he immediately abandoned his thoughts of violent robbery and came over with a lewd grin.

His skin was dark, and his already bluish-purple lips were thick and long, almost reaching below his earlobes. Excitement swirled in his dead fish eyes like a motorcycle tail-spinning in circles. What I held in my hand made this small-time thug, who could be beaten to death by the local police if caught, somewhat uneasy.

"Come on, look, it's absolutely good stuff." My right fist was clenched and twitching in the pocket at the corner of my shirt, enticing him to look. From the promise of regular supplies, they realized that my involvement with this kind of stuff meant I must be someone important.

He leaned closer like a timid girl encouraged by an adult, looking at the little animal clutched in someone's hand. Despite my half-smiling response, his nervousness and unease made him involuntarily stick out his tongue and lick his unusually upturned lips.

The others didn't actively approach, their inherent timidity only allowing their thugs to tentatively approach, standing there in a daze. If they found someone easy prey, they would pounce; if the approach was hostile, they could run away in time.

This guy, however, steeled himself and leaned forward towards me. "Here, feel it." I pushed my hand up further from my pocket. He was like a duck stretching its neck to eat, half-bent over, just about to reach into my pocket and grab my fist.

I swiftly raised my right leg, like a cleaver swung overhead, and slammed it down hard, the force of my heel striking his head, which swelled like two goose eggs. "Ouch, splat!" With a scream, he fell flat and solidly onto the damp ground like a giant turtle being held atop a ladder.

My accomplices immediately recognized from my movements that this was no ordinary street fight, nor was it just fancy footwork; the force and speed I displayed were for real combat and killing.

Before I could even land properly, a woman's scream of seeing a ghost echoed from the alleyway entrance, and the place was deserted. "Get up, this is good stuff, take another look." The guy lying on the ground, like a cat that had eaten poison and died, his neck heaved, and the food and drinks he had eaten were constantly gushing from his mouth and nose.

I crouched down and whispered in his ear, "I'll pay off the money you owe the noodle shop. I don't want your money, I just want you to vomit up everything you ate before, little by little, like today, until we're even." After saying that

, I left and went straight back to camp. A month later, during training, my teammates told me that the noodle shop had been vandalized in the middle of the night by a group of thugs who smashed the windows with beer bottles filled with gasoline and set them on fire.

Fortunately, the police were called in time, and the people inside were safe. This made me realize that I had started something that hadn't been properly addressed. The shop owner had called the police about the troublesome customers, but they were arrested and returned a few days later to retaliate.

Late on the third night, I sneaked to the residence of the guy I had hit on the back of the head. He had found a depraved girl somewhere, and the two of them were having a passionate

affair. The creaking of the bed masked the sound of me pushing open the window and sneaking in. After confirming the surroundings and the number of people, I leaped onto his bed like a tiger, grabbed his hair with my left hand, dug my right hand into his bare thigh, grabbed him, lifted him above my head, and threw him hard into the dark corner.

The depraved girl, who was about to climax, was about to scream when I covered her mouth. "Keeping quiet is the best protection for yourself." Hearing my words, she realized my intention and nodded repeatedly with terrified eyes.

I pulled out a dagger from my military boot, which made the naked girl tremble violently in the corner. In Southeast Asia, many underage girls are mixed-race orphans. Their fathers, wealthy tourists from Europe and America, would lure local women, impregnate them, and then disappear with their tails between their legs.

Many innocent lives were born only to lose their mothers. I didn't intend to kill the thug outright; I deliberately restrained my strength. This guy was arrogant, mistakenly believing that the last time he gave my men a ride, he was caught in a trap. Judging from my clothes at the time, my physical abilities were average; I couldn't possibly be as strong as him, wielding a bottle and a dagger in a fit of rage. That's why he went to retaliate against the unrelated noodle shop.

Chapter 116: The Fiery Fierce Man

, now completely understood what kind of man he was facing after my slam. Pain and fear made him tremble. Under the dim streetlights outside, I gripped the gleaming dagger, its sharp edge flashing, instantly making him realize an even greater fear.

This situation was far more serious than the business conflicts he imagined, leading to a midnight intrusion and beating. My expression and actions had already highlighted the brutality of the battlefield in this dilapidated little house, as if plunging a knife into the heart and neck were as commonplace as sheathing a sword.

I didn't finish him off, but instead stomped on his hand with a military boot. "Crunch, crunch, crunch." With the force of my thigh, my toe pressed against the boot, like a millstone weighing a ton, causing him excruciating pain. "If you can't bear it and scream out, I'll cut out your tongue."

"Ah, ah, no, no, no, ahh, I know I was wrong, I'll pay back the money right away, I burned down the shop, I shouldn't have done that, I'll never bully that Chinese noodle shop again." He endured the pain, desperately pleading, hoping I would stop pressing down on him.

"This kind of feeling was commonplace when I was half your age. Do you know what those unscrupulous mine owners said when they stepped on my fingers? It's charity, you should be polite and say thank you." The dim, gloomy light made his face, contorted with pain, appear cruelly white.

“I’ll ask, you answer.” The guy was in so much pain he couldn’t speak, biting his lip and nodding like a hungry chicken pecking at rice. “Are the dumplings at the noodle shop good?” He nodded rapidly. “Are the prices fair?” He nodded even faster and more forcefully. “What about the service?” Tears were already streaming down his face, but I didn’t loosen my grip on his foot.

“The locals love this Chinese noodle shop so much, you should be living a friendly life there, deepening your friendships. But you went to that scoundrel. Young people should fight against fate with their own hands, not be hooligans and let fate play them.” The girl got off the bed, threw herself on top of the guy, and begged me to let him go.

It wasn’t hard to tell that they were newlyweds. I released my foot, pointed to the half-open window, and said, “Look at that tall building in the distance. I can shoot your head off from a kilometer away using the hole in your curtains. If there’s a next time, I won’t come in. We’ll talk from a kilometer away.”

After saying that, I put the dagger back in. “You, you’re a soldier, the kind who’s killed a lot of people?” the girl asked in fear. I had intended to leave, not wanting to say anything pointless.

"Look at my right hand. The number of dead on it is ten times the number of fingers. Each of those dead could have killed five to ten thugs like you in an instant. Better watch yourself from now on." Before the couple could even exchange a shocked glance, I had already jumped out the window and disappeared back into the night, returning to camp.

Ever since the noodle shop was vandalized and burned down, I hadn't eaten dumplings there again. The guilt I felt only subsided somewhat after hearing what had happened later. The thug who had run up the tab became a worker at the noodle shop, delivering vegetables and noodles for the owner every day, while his girlfriend, dressed in clean service attire, greeted customers with a smile, serving hot dumplings.

The owner only took half of the money he owed the noodle shop, paying him and the girl their wages.

Later, after I killed two mercenaries, I was secretly taken to Phnom Penh, and from then on, I could no longer appear as a normal person.

If I successfully escape from the island this time, I plan to take Yiliang and Luya to China to eat authentic dumplings there. My heart was pounding with anxiety, like dumplings boiling in a hot pan.

Behind the dense vines, a dark, gleaming creature, its outline indistinct, was thrashing its tail, deliberately creating noise to distract me and lure the one on the left flank to attack.

For them, it was time to hunt; for me, it was time to escape the Sea Demon. Just as I raised my submachine gun, waiting for the beast on my side to appear, a gunshot rang out from the deck of the large ship.

A large, fat cat with glossy spots tumbled from the tree behind me. During its fall, the slanted branches offered some protection, but upon impact, it smashed a thick crossbeam in half. Through the gaps in the canopy, a beam of light swirled like a tornado, sending splinters and dust flying everywhere.

It was unbelievable. The initial feints and attacks I'd suspected were all camouflage. The one that was actually pouncing on its prey had somehow already lurked in a large tree behind me.

If such a ferocious leopard had pounced from that height, my entire back would have been exposed like a leather bag with two zippers undone, revealing my bloodied ribs and pulsating internal organs. Fortunately, there were two snipers on the deck 400 meters away. Even the small green snake, with its perfect camouflage, couldn't escape Lu Ya's detection and hit, let alone the large, yellow-furred, black-spotted leopard.

The leopard that ambushed me from the treetops might not have been as complicated as I thought. Like the other two, it was probably just attracted by the smell of crocodile meat and the sound of logging. All three had their own agendas and were plotting their moves.

Only this highly skilled leopard had found a good position to attack and wanted to be the first to take my flesh. This proved the saying true: "The faster you grab, the faster you die; the higher you stand, the harder you fall."

The sound of the sniper rifle was barely audible from my distance, barely louder than the call of a toucan overhead. The two beasts hiding behind the vines must have been baffled as to why the mighty leopard had been so clumsy, tumbling from the dense canopy.

But the loud crash of the fall instantly ignited their predatory instincts. They burst from behind the dense foliage, roaring madly, revealing their treacherous nature and their true purpose.

The one on the left wasn't some clawed predator at all; it was clearly a roaring, grayish-black wild boar with sparse, bristling mane. Judging from its aggressive running and leaping, this creature was nearly a meter tall and two meters in belly—a typical king of wild boars. To grow to that size, it must have a very voracious appetite; it would be strange if it didn't eat humans.

The tusks on either side of its snout made it look even more aggressive, like a medium-sized rhinoceros. Submachine gun bullets, when hitting this animal, had no instantaneous lethality. Only a sniper rifle hitting a vital spot, or the "Domineering Yama" rifle in the ammunition depot, were qualified to be its exclusive butcher.

At this moment, trying to stop the giant wild boar's attack out of fear or by relying on the dense barrage of submachine gun bullets would not only be ineffective but would also provoke even greater danger. Running back to the small raft was too late. Without thinking, I leaped onto the thick crest of the newly felled tree, using the momentum of the leap to climb upwards like a frightened ape.

Chapter 117: Survival The beast's teeth beneath the tree

had barely climbed three meters when the giant boar charged down to the base. Knowing I'd be difficult to eat once I reached the top, it rammed into the trunk beneath my feet like it had an itchy neck.

"Oink oink oink..." The boar's screams, like battle cries, were meant to frighten my legs into weakness and warn the gleaming black leopard beside me not to come and share the spoils.

The trunk, though not thin, couldn't withstand the impact due to its towering height and swayed violently. It was as if the tree I was clinging to was no longer secure, becoming the neck of a wild horse, deliberately trying to break free of its restraints.

My legs, like those of a meditating monk, gripped the tree tightly, while my arms, as if lubricated, trembled violently as I slowly slid down with gravity. My entire body was like a rice cake thrown against a windowpane—slowly, but easily, it would fall.

The muscles in my thighs contracted violently, doubling the friction, freeing one arm to clench into a fist on the large ship. Luya and Yiliang, though 400 meters away, could see the intense and thrilling scene vividly through their sniper scopes.

The two girls responsible for sniper protection looked puzzled when they saw my stop-fire gesture. They couldn't snipe when the wild boar was coming at them, because I was moving and running between the gun and the target. Since I hadn't fired a single bullet from my submachine gun, there must be something going on. I

quickly made the gesture and withdrew it, my entire buttocks sliding down half a meter. Another half meter, and the possibility of being bitten on the buttocks would arise. That long, boot-like snout opened at least twenty centimeters wide. Given the wild boar's aggressive habits and its massive jaws, if it took a bite, like a snapping turtle, unless its head was severed, it would tear off a mouthful of flesh.

Two sharp, white tusks, like scimitars held by an assassin in the dead of night, if a bullet were to enrage the boar, causing it to leap or butt upwards, my backside would feel like that of a Spanish gladiator riding a bison horn.

In my hurried panic, I glanced downwards to gauge the distance between myself and the boar's mouth. This angle was even more terrifying than a direct view. Its neck bristles were unusually thick, long and stiff like porcupine quills, covering its front back and the fat cheeks below its ears. Anyone who had never seen a lion before would be suspicious upon first sight.

The giant boar, relying on its enormous size and ferocity, coupled with its furious, raging aura, paid no heed to the leopard, whose color was darker than a crow's and whose sheen was brighter than coal.

The black leopard, which had been with the boar, saw its opportunity and attacked me simultaneously. But after only a few steps, the giant wild boar startled it, causing it to stop abruptly. Its curled tail drooped low, and

it paced anxiously in circles. It was clear the two beasts had met before, having already settled their differences. Seeing its coveted human flesh about to become the boar's meal, the black leopard was helpless, forced to keep its distance, grunting and occasionally glancing up to lick its lips. The conflict between desire and fear intensified.

If the boar beneath it had been the black leopard, from its current position, its thighs and buttocks would likely have been deeply bitten into by four saber-toothed fangs, and it would have been violently dragged down from the tree. But that was assuming its pelt could withstand a submachine gun and that it could afford to get close. The current situation was as if the boar had become a lion and leopard, while the leopard resembled a scavenging hyena lurking nearby, its heart itching with anticipation as large chunks of flesh were chewed away, howling and groaning, fearing the remaining scraps would be of poor quality.

Although the leopard was agile and imposing, its current restlessness made it resemble a hungry dog in a cage. Seeing its owner slowly approach with food, far more eager than a dog's drooling, it leaped and pounced, tail wagging wildly, whimpering and begging.

This wild boar was not only huge and ferocious, but also possessed rich hunting experience and a certain level of intelligence. Every time I tried to climb, it rammed into the tree more violently, giving me no chance. I

gestured to the two girls on deck, signaling them to shoot the boar in the eyes. This not only increased the difficulty but also the danger. The boar's madness below the tree was like a person on drugs headbanging wildly in a chaotic dance floor—completely irrational and devoid of artistry, a purely primal outburst and muscle spasms.

For Luya and Yiliang, shooting the boar in the eyes was fraught with uncertainty. They had to ensure the bullet's trajectory remained unchanged throughout its flight. A missed shot, enraging the boar, could very well cost me my life.

I clung to the tree with all my might, buying time for the archers on deck to adjust their vision and get a feel for the boar's head movements.

My head and neck arched back repeatedly, forming a triangle with the tree trunk I was holding, slowing my descent. If the gleaming black leopard dared to leap over, or get any closer to attract the boar's attention, I could use those four or five seconds to rise a meter or half a meter.

But the leopard didn't dare approach even a step. When the boar roared fiercely, it even seemed to turn and flee in fear. Like a cat about to steal a fish, suddenly yelled at by its owner standing far away, stick in hand.

I could feel my descent speed even from my backside. Every time the giant boar rammed into the tree, it would raise its snout to bite me, its teeth clanging loudly. The hot breath spewing from its throat and nostrils, like a blower in a cooking room, sent chills down my spine.

A sniper rifle bullet should be coming soon. If this boar became one-eyed, I could scramble a few meters, grab the submachine gun on my back, and shoot the black panther who was trying to reap the benefits.

"Bang!" The anticipated sound finally reached my ears. The giant boar let out a sharp, piercing scream, like a roar of defiance. "Awooo! Awooo!" I quickly turned my head and saw a splash of mixed black and red blood erupt on the face of the gray boar, its bristling mane bristling. It was like an old man blowing on a piece of liquid red oil applied to a bird's shoulder, then suddenly blowing out its scarlet wings.

Just as the giant wild boar screamed in sudden, excruciating pain, I quickly got up, grabbed the tree, and scrambled upwards as if escaping a hellish landscape. Before my limbs could even prepare, an even more violent tremor surged up from below the tree like an electric current.

The wild boar had endured the momentary agony of a bullet piercing its eyeball and damaging its nasal cavity; its nerves and blood, like gathering black poisonous smoke, converged at its heart, instantly transforming the appetite and will to survive of both attacker and defender into irreconcilable enemies. The wild boar began its hysterical revenge.

Chapter 118: The Migrating Living Clouds

At this moment, the violent shaking made me suddenly feel small, like a ladybug clinging to a wheat stalk, swaying in the rolling waves of wheat with the dust storm before the rain. I had intended to take the opportunity to shoot the black panther in front of me, but the frenzied wild boar below made it impossible for me to hold my gun.

In the few seconds that the tree trunk stopped moving, the black panther had vanished without a trace. Perhaps it was the giant boar's howling that frightened it into giving up. Or perhaps it sensed something amiss, seeing a bullet cutting through the air on the distant deck, leaving a white line before striking the boar in the eye. Although it didn't understand the concept of weapons, the boar's agonizing cries gave it a sense of foreboding.

Seeing the black panther leave, I could finally concentrate on dealing with this reckless and dangerous beast beneath my feet.

I clung tightly to the tree, like a monkey playing hide-and-seek, turning my hips to the other side of the trunk. Then, controlling the friction between my body and the bark, I slowly slid down. The vengeful boar locked its attack on my rear, unconsciously shifting its disproportionately large hooves to bite me.

The boar's feet were like unhygienic nails, the front half a nauseating mixture of mud and filth, the back half healthy flesh. It was far too fat, like a wealthy woman suffering from obesity who insisted on wearing long, pointed high heels, sculpting her carrot-shaped thighs, making her indescribably unpleasant to look at.

On the large ship four hundred meters away, the scopes of the two sniper rifles were not for aesthetic purposes. Yi Liang and Lu Ya easily understood my intentions. The wild boar tried to raise its front hooves and bite me a few times, but missed. Then, it impatiently lowered its head, its right cheek stained with blood and its black eye hole gnawing at the tree trunk.

Its mouth, though not a chisel or saw, was now fighting me for its life, and it was almost as fast as someone chopping wood with an axe. This juicy tree flesh was like broad beans to the wild boar—unimaginable how to chew it, but it was gone in no time.

The giant wild boar, like a shadow puppet behind a screen, appeared from the other side of the stage, exposing its only good eye to the direction of the shooting. "Bang, bang," two sniper rifle shots rang out, overlapping and piercing my ears.

The wild boar beneath my feet no longer recklessly gnawed at the bark, trying to make me fall down with the tree. This blindness was far worse than when I blinded a crocodile's eye or a bear's eye with a dagger in the mud. Bullets are not as gentle and yielding as knife tips. After shattering the resilient eyeball, they continue to penetrate deeper until they reach the wild boar's hard nasal bone.

Meanwhile, ten meters away, in the canopy of a large tree, the gleaming black leopard plummeted like a meteorite. It turned out the leopard hadn't given up on its target. From the wild boar's actions, it had come to see me as a hairless, clumsy monkey who couldn't scratch, bite, or climb trees.

The leopard seemed to have fallen into the giant boar's last eye, turning the pain of blindness into a world of darkness. If it weren't for the second sniper rifle on the deck, the leopard would have leaped onto the tree canopy I was clinging to, grabbed my neck, and dragged me away. And the wild boar below, like a boxer being stripped of his suit by a long-distance runner, would have been utterly helpless.

Once the danger was over, I immediately leaped down from the tree trunk, like a leaping ape, retrieved the axe, and, just as I had used a steel rod to smash an crocodile's head, swung it down on the neck of the giant wild boar lying sprawled on the tangled logs, making a

loud clang. This massive, fat creature, like a placenta bursting from its uterus, had its neck, below its mouth, a pool of blood except for its eyes. A wild boar's meat weighs a thousand pounds; no wonder the leopards dared not put a food chain around its neck.

At this moment, time was meant for logging. These three plump, safe meats, appearing suddenly, seemed like a cruel joke, a test or a lure from God, turning my efforts to buy time into a pretense of righteousness.

I gave the large ship a thumbs-up, telling them to continue guarding it; simultaneously, two delicate girls on the opposite gun emplacement also gave their thumbs-ups.

"Clang, clang, clang..." I swung my axe again, chopping down the large tree beside me. The near-death experience seemed to have exhausted all my fear, but the wasted time made me angry and anxious. I couldn't help but focus on my work, secretly speeding up, leaving all the danger to Yi Liang and Lu Ya, and simply going all out.

I felt blisters forming on my hands, so I wrapped them with damp strips of cloth, swinging the axe without stopping for a moment. By lunchtime, I had finally felled twenty good timbers. The remaining work was to use ropes to pull the timbers down to the large boat, then secure them with shorter ropes and tie them to the gunwale.

As I stood on the small raft, holding onto a rope connecting the boat to the trees on the shore, and tied the last two timbers back to the edge of the forest, a rapid and noisy chorus of birdsong came from the sky above the forest on the opposite bank. I shielded my eyes with my left hand and, in a blur, saw that the flock resembled a swarm of locusts covering the sky.

I figured something must have been released into the forest over there, causing the flock of birds, like a dark cloud, to migrate en masse to the opposite bank. The distance was seven or eight hundred meters, but the spectacle in the sky was magnificent. The flock's flight patterns were ever-changing, their cries melodious yet somewhat shrill, perhaps due to the sheer number and the reverberation.

But as the flock drew closer, only their strange colors surprised me.

The large ship resembled a whale emerging from the water, and the passing of the birds looked like a vast, dark net cast down from the opposite sky. Within this net, crimson flames churned, their tips flashing with patches of blue, yellow, and purple.

"Oh no," I thought to myself, inwardly groaning. The flapping of these colorful birds' wings in the air resembled that of a small hawk, and when they reached the airspace above the ship, they began to circle, their cries filled with a deep, excited excitement.

Now I understood: these birds of prey in the forest on the opposite bank weren't frightened or intending to migrate; their goal was to land on the deck. Before I could think, my feet were already in the center of the small raft, my hands gripping the ropes, desperately trying to get closer to the large ship.

The creatures on this deserted island were terrifyingly primitive; most of their habits were beyond the comprehension of those who hadn't ventured here. Even zoologists, attempting theoretical research in such a place, would likely be killed several times over.

My biggest fear now was that the women outside the ship would be harmed. They seemed oblivious to the menacing birds, standing dumbfounded on the deck, heads held high, eyes covered. I steered the raft forward rapidly, and as soon as I reached the middle of the cableway, I shouted, "The birds are going to attack! Cover your head and face, run into the main cabin, and close the door!"

Chapter 119: The Giant Whirlpool Above Their Heads.

My shout brought the women back to their senses, a hint of fear creeping in. "No, they're macaws. I've kept them before. They only eat fruit and nuts and won't hurt anyone."

This huge flock of parrots, tumbling overhead like colorful clouds, didn't frighten Chi Chun at all; instead, it made her as happy as a child seeing a spectacle. I didn't have binoculars. Each parrot in the flock moved very quickly, and with their dazzling colors, they looked like sticks swirling in a mixture of paint.

Chi Chun's words didn't ease my anxiety. As we got closer to the large ship, the screams filling my ears and the air currents created by countless tiny wings flapping overhead made me feel even more uneasy.

I clung to the anchor chain and quickly climbed onto the deck. Lu Ya and Yi Liang also sensed something was wrong. They put away their sniper rifles, slid down from the gun emplacement, and tried to create distance from the sky. The two girls looked at me expectantly, wanting to know how to handle this situation.

The blue sky was cloudless, and the blazing sun was intensely baking the crocodile meat. Meanwhile, on the deck, dappled, bird-like shadows darted about, a bizarre and surreal sight, much like under a forest canopy.

Taking the binoculars from Yi Liang, I carefully observed these unusual macaws. Although each one was beautiful, their sudden surge in numbers was like a bewitching ghost, instilling an indescribable unease.

Each macaw was quite large, with a body as thick as a pigeon and a tail as long as a magpie's. Their large, sickle-shaped beaks could easily crack open hard walnuts, much like a hawk. They mostly nested in burrows along the riverbank, not venturing into the forest to peck at fruit and seeds, but instead circling the large ship, screeching incessantly, which puzzled me greatly.

"Ah!" A blonde woman was poking the macaw on her head with a wooden stick. The bird's droppings dripped onto her bare chest, the warm, sticky fluid sliding down her ample breasts to her even more alluring abdomen.

With a scream from the woman at the bow, the edges of the large ship were covered with brightly colored parrots, their necks swaying from side to side, their feathers shimmering and reflecting a dazzling light.

Several parrots landed on the gun emplacement beside me, Yi Liang, and Lu Ya. The two girls clung to my waist, trembling with fear. When I saw them clearly, I couldn't help but get goosebumps.

The parrots flying in the air looked only the size of pigeons and magpies, but upon landing, I realized they were much larger than I had imagined. One was about sixty centimeters long, with bright red plumage all over its body, but its wings were blue and yellow, its tail feathers were blue and red, and its face was as white as wall paint.

As far as I knew, these birds mainly fed on plant seeds and carbohydrates, and the possibility of them attacking people was almost nonexistent. I raised my binoculars to observe it alone and found that the edge of its pale yellow beak looked like it had been injured, with dried, reddish-brown spots, like red handprints.

Then I saw the large parrots that had landed on the ship's side, intentionally or unintentionally moving towards the meat drying in the middle of the deck. It was like a flock of chickens stealing dried insects and rice in a yard. This action, along with the red marks on the parrots' beaks, was like an open flame meeting gunpowder, exploding in my mind.

"Oh no! Everyone, quickly collect the crocodile meat! The parrots are here to peck at it!" With my shout, the latent sense of danger in all the women on deck also erupted. Some screamed, terrified of being attacked by climbing birds, and helplessly ran into the cabin. The slightly bolder women immediately crouched down, dragging the planks covered in pieces of flesh, biting their white teeth and red lips, moving towards the cabin.

The flock of parrots overhead, like a swirling vortex of paint suspended in the air, pressed down even lower when they saw the flesh being dragged across the deck. I grabbed my submachine gun from behind and fired a warning shot at the birds, trying to scare away these wild birds that didn't understand their property rights.

"Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat." Sparks flew, and bullet casings landed on the deck like popping beans. Twenty-four bullets seemed not to penetrate, but rather absorbed by a huge, viscous liquid. The sound of the gunshots, like a pebble falling at a construction site, was quickly drowned out by the chaotic, piercing bird calls.

This flock of parrots, red as fire, blue as the sky, and purple as flowers, was like a giant beak, swallowing the dense barrage of bullets, spitting out a few painted feathers, which floated up and fell with the powerful gusts of air.

The submachine gun fire didn't scare the birds away; instead, it made them think we were weak. Their pecking intentions, like sprinters at the starting line hearing the referee's whistle, suddenly veered towards the deck.

The women's screams grew louder and more chaotic. No one expected that these beautiful, vegetarian birds, like liches disguised as alluring women, would suddenly reveal their sinister purpose: to steal the dried meat.

"Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat..." While firing fiercely upwards to block the parrots' attack, they used their muscular bodies to shield Luya and Yiliang as they approached the cabin door.

"Chichun, quickly lower your heads and protect your eyes! The parrots are here to peck at the dried meat! Quickly move the planks to save our food!" The shouts, with mouths agape, were accompanied by the heavy smell of bird feathers that filled our noses and mouths, making our chests feel tight.

"We'll go get the submachine gun and shoot with you," the two girls said, turning to head towards the ammunition depot. I hurriedly called out to the two women, "Don't use the guns, go get some sticks, about two meters long."

Chi Chun and the other women who hadn't been scared into the main cabin, one hand covering their heads, the other carrying a wooden board full of drying meat, crawled into the cabin and placed it down. Then, they covered their heads again and continued to carry the remaining drying meat.

The parrots were numerous, and the drying meat on the wooden board resembled tender grass on a prairie suffering from a locust plague. As soon as the dense, restless shadows swooped down, the board was riddled with holes, and all the crocodile meat was gone.

The speed and scale of this looting couldn't be suppressed by three submachine guns.

Chi Chun knew that this food was far more important than simply filling their stomachs. She was bold and meticulous, leading the strong women like a Red Cross doctor treating wounded soldiers on the battlefield.

Taking the sticks handed to me by Lu Ya and Yi Liang, I ran towards Chi Chun and the others, who desperately needed cover, like a member of a relay race. Several women's full breasts heaved wildly in their panic, like balls rolling down a hillside, refusing to stop bouncing.

The flock of parrots was like a sphincter in the sky; I swung my two sticks forward, the attacked areas contracting rapidly to avoid the next blow. "Thwack, thwack, thwack..." The redwood sticks were hard, second only to steel. I felt like an upright helicopter, swinging my sticks like two propellers.

The parrots on either side of my arms, like moths flying into a fan, squirted out their fluids with a "plop."

Chapter 120: The Escape Time Leaked

. Macaws are not made of diamond after all; the hard wooden sticks, striking these birds without scales, whose only armor is their beautiful feathers, immediately produced a cracking sound of breaking bones.

The method of swinging the wooden stick was indeed effective. This kind of striking was rather primitive, unlike bullets, which travel at high speeds and are difficult to see or touch. The parrots that were hit didn't change much, as if they fell automatically, failing to serve as a deterrent.

"Thud, thud, thud, cluck cluck cluck." The stick struck the back of the parrot that was flying back and forth, first with a dull thud from the feathers, followed by the sound of the bone structure beneath the flesh collapsing instantly.

The gap opened in the flock of birds, like a forest path, led with difficulty to Chi Chun and the others. She bent over, carrying the dried meat with the other women, protecting her face. I stood in front of the women, slapping left and right, using my strong chest to block the swarm of parrots rushing to grab the food.

Lu Ya and Yi Liang each held a wooden stick, waving it like a flag of freedom, swatting at the parrots jumping around above their heads. "Try to kill the birds on the deck, don't let them fall into the river."

At my call, the two girls became unusually brave, shedding their earlier timidity when clinging to me and regaining the composure and determination expected of snipers. "You two protect your eyes, stand on either side of the drying meat in the middle, don't let the parrots land in flocks, and keep an eye on our food."

With Yi Liang and Lu Ya's assistance, the path for Chi Chun and the others to move and grab the food became much wider, increasing their efficiency. I could also move further away from the drying meat, freeing up my body to actively attack, striking the densest and most crucial parts of the bird flock.

The entire deck of the large ship, like the spine of a giant beast, swung its bony spikes, refusing to let the birds land. A parrot with a hooked beak like a sickle and small but bright eyes was caught in the middle of the flock, bearing the brunt of the attack.

The large parrot, seeing me leap in front of it, realized something was terribly wrong. My agility and lightning speed were far beyond the swift movements of women rushing to harvest dried meat. Startled, it hastily flapped its wings, using the airflow to propel itself backward.

But the crowded flock, unlike high in the sky, coupled with the lure of a large amount of food, completely disrupted its formation. As a result, its descent was rapid, but its rebound was slow and chaotic. The flapping wings, like gears misaligned, did not make this massive "flying machine" swift and agile; instead, the birds slapped each other, not flying higher, but scrambling and climbing.

"Snap." A crisp, dull thud resounded from its body. Unlike crawling mammals, birds have naturally thin and fragile bones for easier flight. So, this little bird, resembling one wearing a red scarf, had its spine shattered in an instant. Its hooked claws twitched a few times on the deck, and a hazy aura filled its dark, bright eyes.

This kind of attack and killing, in appearance only, is hypocritical compared to beheading. To avoid the smell of blood, that's also why I didn't use a gun or a broadsword.

The parrot I killed with the wooden stick in my left hand had a tuft of bright orange-red against its beautiful blue body, like a beautiful girl in a sundress, dazzling and mesmerizing. The patterns on its face were formed by numerous tiny feathers arranged in lines.

These parrots, with their single and innocent purpose, like most children who have seen candy, their nature taught them to eat, but they didn't know the price behind it. They didn't know that this great ship came from human society, tainted by complex human nature; the concept of possessiveness alone had long since become the right of the strong and a slave to vanity.

Nature, before humanity, can only be called law when it conforms to human needs. The ignorant flock of birds, unaware of this principle, rashly approached; even the relatively benevolent could not use generosity to avoid escalating conflict or to curb the Creator's wicked smile.

Laugh, laugh, let him laugh. As I pondered this, my grip on the wooden stick tightened, and the force of my swings grew ever stronger and more ferocious. The inner pain seemed to dissipate with my anger; this invisible channel was something I craved.

The flock of parrots, like a canopy bursting with pomegranate blossoms, sent seven or eight of the largest tumbling onto the deck with each swing of the stick. Gradually, I realized that these parrots weren't meant to harm anyone. Like a broken monk barging into a tavern, craving meat, the owner could push and shove him away without fear of being beaten. (Full text novel reading, all at www.16k.cn.literature.net)

Yi Liang and Lu Ya, while swinging their clubs to swat at the flock of birds, kept shouting to bolster their courage. "Yaha, haha, hehehaha." To effectively strike the flock and break up their group attack, I used fighting stick techniques. I folded my two sticks into an X shape and suddenly swung them outwards, twisting my wrists to create a funnel-shaped stick shadow.

Crackling, crackling, the parrots' strange... The calls and the rustling of feathers blended into a chaotic cacophony around my ears. The soft, ticklish feel of a torn down pillow on my head clung to my nose and neck, causing unbearable discomfort.

However, what puzzled me was the dark silhouette of the large bird I'd seen last night. The carnivorous nature of these parrots was already astonishing; it was even more incredible that they would be active on a moonlit night like owls or bats.

The small lens I used to peek through at night didn't capture the long tail of a magpie. Even if I reversed the order of the images, a parrot's tail couldn't possibly contract and retract like an S-shaped spring.

Under the bright moonlight, even if the largest of these parrots' silhouettes were distorted, it would be difficult for it to contort itself into the shape of an old man in a straw raincoat leaping onto the deck. I hoped I was simply too tired last night and had misjudged the situation; those dark silhouettes of large birds hopping onto the deck were just parrots. Please, no more mistakes.

Chi Chun and the women she led, under the cover of Lu Ya and Yi Liang, ... The last wooden plank used for drying meat was hastily brought into the hall. The women, finally able to catch their breath, wiped the sweat from their brows and hurriedly slipped a hand under their sheet-made bras to straighten their already bulging, overly full breasts.

Even though Chi Chun was wearing an oversized men's shirt, she instinctively used both hands to support her ample, breastfeeding breasts. "How much food was lost?" I anxiously called to Chi Chun inside the cabin, waving the parrots that were flying around and overhead.

"Our dried meat is less than half gone, no, it looks like less than half is left." Chi Chun's words were like boiling water, instantly melting away my hopes. A rough breath escaped my nostrils, a feeling of being deceived washing over me. A surge of anger rose within me, burning in my arms and causing the force of my sticks to double.

Our painstakingly planned schemes and preparations had been severely disrupted. Less than half of our voyage's food reserves remained—not only a quantitative loss, but also a significant delay in closing the gap between us and the Sea Demon.

Chapter 121: Pulling Back the Chain of Life

The most crucial issue now remained the potential danger. Deep within the treacherous, primeval rainforest, a moment's carelessness could lead to being dragged into the gears of death by the food chain. The flock of parrots had to be scattered and driven away as quickly as possible. After all, they were at the bottom of the food chain, and their unusually large and powerful presence could easily attract unexpected birds of prey. The most terrifying of all was the large bird that had been uncertain under the moonlight last night.

With food scarce again, I couldn't help but think about the wild boar I had recently killed at the logging site across the river. I had considered asking Yiliang and Luya to retrieve it so I could continue chasing away the parrots, but the two girls had only learned long-range sniping for protection and had no experience in other adventurous situations.

I almost lost my life the first time I went to retrieve the lemurs, and the blood from the three wild beasts I had just encountered—all dead from external injuries—might attract new dangers. Therefore, I would rather forgo the food than risk the lives of the two girls.

"Crack! Crack! Crack! Thud! Thud! Thud!" The wooden stick was swung faster and faster, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging, veins bulging, like countless dragons tattooed on his back. Seeing that the dried meat was no longer drying on the deck, the parrots' downward swooping tendency slowed considerably, and they began to rise slowly like hot air balloons blotting out the sky.

But the parrots on the higher decks, having not managed to grab much dried meat, still braved the upward pressure from below, insisting on coming down to the deck themselves to walk around and look. The wooden sticks in their hands didn't care what the parrots wanted; if they could reach and hit something, they would immediately shatter it in half, wasting no time.

I thought that after the flock dispersed, I should immediately retrieve the wild boar meat from the other side, like those two leopards I had shot... We could retrieve them along with the food, making up for the food loss, and the wasted time drying the meat could be made up for on the long voyage.

Thinking of this, my gloomy mood, like a clump of withered grass, was suddenly ignited with flames. The overwhelming array of birds gradually dissipated, and the swirling cloud-like clouds overhead thinned to the point where it was easy to breathe.

The previous sensation was extremely terrifying and uncomfortable, like falling into a spinning jenny, causing my entire body to vibrate in unison with the cacophony. "Yi Liang, you continue to drive away the birds. I'll go to the other side to retrieve the last two logs and the wild boar meat. Lu Ya will be in charge of sniping and protection." With that, I picked up the binoculars left on the gun emplacement and aimed at the logging site. Observe.

Several dripping crocodiles were wriggling along the crisscrossing fallen logs, heading towards the lifeless wild boar. These creatures, sensing the chaos on the ship, wanted to take advantage of the situation and steal our fresh game.

Luya, having just returned to the cabin to retrieve her sniper rifle after hearing my words, was fiddling with the bolt while her small, delicate hands loaded the magazine. To protect the wild boar meat and minimize further damage, I quickly jumped off the gun emplacement, snatched the sniper rifle from the little girl, and darted back.

Before I could even kneel and prepare to fire, my eyes were already glued to the scope, the rifle held between my left shoulder and neck, my hands gripping it tightly. The bullets were loaded into the magazine with a "click-click-click..." The whole process was fast and smooth, much like a mechanized assembly line.

On the blue scope's "T"-shaped aiming line, a row of tiny markings resembled sperm searching for eggs, leaping left and right among the bleeding wild boar lying on its side. The only difference once they unite is the condensation of life versus the destruction of life.

While a crocodile's mouth doesn't harbor billions of bacteria and toxins like a giant lizard, there's still a possibility that biting into wild boar meat could spoil it. I moved my firing position around the wild boar to prevent the first crocodile from dragging it into the water; otherwise, this thousand-pound piece of fresh meat would truly become fish food.

"Bang, bang, bang." Seven or eight broad-snouted crocodiles, their mouths brimming with saliva, were preparing to fight over their plump prey when any of them turned their eyes toward or to the side of the deck, instantly becoming one-eyed crocodiles. For

crocodiles fired at a more vertical angle, the sniper bullets blasted into their eye sockets, embedded with fleshy growths, immediately spurting out a jet of black fluid that splashed onto the dark crossbeams and into the water. Those toothpick-sized fish could now, for the first time, taste the crocodile's flesh.

Because the large ship was higher than the target, the bullets couldn't pass horizontally; instead, they exited from the crocodile's other eye socket and embedded themselves deeply in its skull. Two bullets fired in quick succession, only three seconds apart, pierced the target's eye sockets, causing immense damage. Even a three-meter-long crocodile couldn't withstand the impact, tumbling diagonally off the crossbeam with a splash, sinking in the opposite direction of the spray.

The blow had struck right next to its delicate brain nerves, instantly disrupting its balance. The crocodile crawling with its back to the gun barrel ignored its companion's sudden change in behavior, instead psychologically hoping for this to reduce its competition. The bloody scent of the wild boar acted like a tightening chain, drawing its nose in irresistibly closer. Any

crocodiles that approached from either side, emerging from the water and climbing onto the withered, black crossbeam, became bleeding, one-eyed blinds, their shattered eyeballs scattering as their heavy, armored bodies tumbled back into the water.

The screams and wails of those shot were too far from the ship for human ears to hear, but through my sniper scope, it had become a blood-red world of sound. Every living being struck by a bullet fired from my fingertip displayed countless faces and expressions. The sensation of life is a silent sound, utterly unmasked.

"Bang, bang." A sniper rifle rang out to my right. Seeing me take her weapon, Luya didn't pout as usual. Instead, she obediently ran back to the cabin, grabbed another, climbed onto the gun emplacement, and lay down on my right flank to assist in firing.

Her two-round burst was aimed at the crocodiles facing away from us. The bullets destroyed the skin grafts, embedding themselves in the lower part of the crocodile's head, where the cerebellum is located. This girl knew nothing about neural pathways, and I hadn't told her how to shoot enemies facing away.

The crocodiles Luya hit didn't tumble into the water in agony, like those I shot in the eyes. It remained lying limply on the crossbeam, silent and never to move again. Like an old man who had passed away peacefully, ascending to heaven, leaving only its withered shell as a testament. But from my perspective, it looked more like two withered logs pressed down on each other.

After clearing the crocodiles around the wild boar, I released my sniper rifle, hung up the binoculars Yi Liang had given me, and slung my fully loaded submachine gun over my shoulder before disembarking from the large boat. As I stepped onto the small raft, I turned back to warn her, "Luya, keep an eye on the wild boar. Don't let any of the others carry it away."

I looked up at the little girl from below the large boat and shouted. She didn't answer, but gave me a thumbs-up. Actually, we were only twenty meters apart; a simple "hmm" would have been enough for me to hear her reply clearly. Luya, when she got serious, revealed another side of her innocent and adorable nature.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/15146.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=15146&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : Humanity Forbidden Island [Full Text] - 7

Next Page : Humanity Forbidden Island [Full Text] - 6

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Humanity Forbidden Island [Full Text] - 8

comment Open a new window to view comments