Humanity Forbidden Island [Full Text] - 17

Chapter 233: The Terrifying Heaven-Shaking Slave

"When I was stranded on a desert island, I rescued thirty-seven women. They were of varying ages, some even under twelve, and had suffered horrific abuse at the hands of pirates. I once hijacked a large ship, intending to send these women safely to the South African mainland so they could each find their own country's consulate and return home quickly. But then we encountered the Sea Demon."

Xuan Ya nodded silently, his earlier teasing replaced by a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

We met when we needed each other most, and were able to dispel our reservations and trust each other. This was absolutely rare and precious among unfamiliar, terrifying assassins; it was a gift from heaven. If it weren't for this, even if we hired Xuan Ya for a hefty sum, or he hired me for a hefty sum, it would be difficult to establish mutual trust. Instead, we would be more sensitive to each other and prone to fighting.

"The other three women… are they important to you?" Xuan Ya raised an eyebrow, looking at me coldly. I nodded and said, "There's also a baby." Xuan Ya scrutinized me again, his surprised expression seeming to say, "Assassin Dad?" “

And you? How many enemies will you kill?” I countered. Raven took a deep breath, as if inhaling the dawn sky into his lungs. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back towards the massive, fluffy palm canopy above.

A vein, like an earthworm, bulged between Raven's relaxed brows, its constant throbbing like hatred being infused into his brain. “Kill them all!” he suddenly released his pent-up breath, uttering a short but heavy sentence.

“Yes!” I nodded in agreement. Actually, I didn't need to ask; I could guess who Raven would kill. Although he said he'd kill all the pirates on the Sea Demon, his main target was Jason Jody, especially the four who had murdered him.

Because I had been hung on the Sea Demon, and the wooden basin used to collect my blood might still be drying on Raven's face.

Capturing those ringleaders would be no easy task; the Sea Demon's henchmen would swarm us like enraged wasps. Xuan Ya's words were carefully crafted; it would be difficult not to kill them all.

It was getting late; the sun, its shyness fading, began to shine openly upon everything. Xuan Ya and I sat up, stretching a few times to relax.

"Here," Xuan Ya said, tossing over the sniper rifle we'd swung in the grass during the night's fight. I caught it immediately; the gleaming barrel, gripped in my weathered, iron-like hand, evoked an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

"Here," he said, followed by two pistols, flying towards me in a measured fashion. I quickly reached out my right hand and caught them with a snap.

The brand-new FN57 pistol lay flat in my palm, each magazine fully loaded. If I had had it when we landed on the African coast, those hyenas that had trapped Dumo and me in the tree through the stormy night would have long since become barbecue.

“Your black escort, and the intelligence contact on the Sea Demon, didn’t foolishly break into the abandoned factory. It was because I killed the real contact and lured him in.” After saying this, Raven looked into my eyes, as if afraid I might feel pity for Dumo and harbor resentment.

“Did you kill Camilla too?” I asked in a low voice. “Who?” Raven frowned, asking in return. “A tea plantation worker on Réunion Island.” My tone softened, not wanting to damage our current bond over irreversible misfortune.

“I didn’t know her. I killed a man, a factory worker in the abandoned factory. I’d been watching him for a long time; he was the Sea Demon’s eyes and ears in Mauritius.”

Raven seemed to realize my interest in the tea plantation woman, and he cherished our newly established partnership, so he spoke a few more words to avoid causing any misunderstanding.

“It’s nothing. I just hope you didn’t kill an innocent person.” With that, I stuffed the two excellent pistols into the back pockets of my shirt. At the same time, I felt sorry for Dumo. Clearly, Camilla had been silenced by Jason Jodi. Perhaps Dumo didn't know the truth and directed his hatred towards the target of this mission. This showed how despicable, or rather, how clever, the puppet pirate king's methods were.

With the pistols slung over my backside, they immediately felt heavy. I liked this weight; it gave me a sense of security. Moreover, these two pistols were extraordinary, with world-class craftsmanship and technology. Even in Cang Gui's massive arms fleet, it would be difficult to find a single one like them. With these on me, the upcoming mission would be relatively easier.

With a click, I pulled the bolt of my sniper rifle, turned around, and peered towards the riverbank. In that instant, the entire world through the scope—God had once again entrusted me with the power of life and death.

“Don’t shoot them. Those lackeys deserve to die, but for now, they can serve as cannon fodder for us. If we encounter a fierce pursuit, we can still get back to the abandoned factory for refuge. This is very important.”

I didn’t intend to shoot the factory guards lurking on the riverbank, although they were now as easy to me as shooting a beer bottle in front of me.

“Inside the factory, besides me, who else has seen you?” Xuan Ya asked, rummaging through his green canvas bag, his voice coming from his head, which was almost buried in the bag.

“A prostitute.” I thought for a moment and finally said it. “The kind used for prostate-rubbing contests? Those factory guards won’t live long. Let them have their fun for a few days. It’s no big deal. Otherwise, I’ll feel uneasy if good people die.”

Xuan Ya tossed me a bag of beef and two sealed sausages. I put down my rifle, which I had adjusted with a sniper scope, and wolfed down the food, taking the water bottle he offered. But I knew that the woman squatting by the pool washing her bottom wouldn’t live long.

“Jason Jody is disgusting, I mean the imposter on the Sea Demon. Look, the sniper rifle he gave you only has an effective range of 500 meters. You can imagine how malicious he is.”

As he spoke, Raven lifted his veil, cracked a fennel bean between his teeth, and began to chew it with a clattering sound, like he was stuffing a bullet into an empty magazine—awkward to watch, let alone the psychological damage it caused him. The sniper

rifle in front of me had an effective range of over 800 meters; it was the same weapon I used against Cang Gui's men on the desert island: the M25 sniper rifle. Even when Raven was chasing me, he chose a long-range weapon, avoiding close contact with the enemy while still having enough distance to escape after firing.

Even if Jason Jody considered all this, he wouldn't care about my life or death. To ensure I hit the Pirate King with one shot and to allow me the possibility of dying in pursuit before I could escape, he deliberately and stingily provided me and Dumo with two sniper rifles with an effective range of 500 meters.

"Have you ever heard of 'Heavenly Slave'?" The moment Xuan Ya's words entered my ears, my throat tightened as I swallowed my food, followed by a violent cough.

Chapter 234: The Godslayer Who Sold Out

"I've heard of him, but I only know that he's the most ruthless and arrogant of the eight assassins." A series of muffled coughs finally protected the food in my mouth, preventing it from being wasted. But my heart was pounding like a rammed earth machine turned on.

"Don't worry, he's not the assassin who was on the same mission as you," Xuan Ya quickly reassured me when he saw that I was a little agitated.

It's easy to imagine that if the Heavenly Slave were my opponent, Jason Jody on the Sea Demon, constantly aware of my and his movements, could easily orchestrate an encounter between us, triggering a life-or-death struggle.

The Raven's cold eyes closed for a few seconds, then he suddenly glanced at me and said, "I used my life's accumulated wealth, through various channels, to hire that barbaric fellow before any other pirate forces could." A cold smile crept into his eyes, a smile that concealed boundless satisfaction and hatred.

"Phew." I let out a long sigh, my pounding heart slowly calming down. If I could retrieve the nine treasure chests hidden on the mountain cliff right now, even half a chest of gold, or a handful of dazzling gems, would be enough to hire one of the eight great assassins.

In this world, to me, the lives of Yi Liang, Lu Ya, and Chi Chun are far more important than any wealth. Xuan Ya has seen through the illusions of money; he used the Earth as a metaphor to explain his new understanding.

"I'm sorry, I'm not a wealthy assassin. Aside from emotions, I'm penniless." Returning to the Sea Demon should have been a matter between Xuan Ya and me. He emptied his purse to hire an assassin of absolute skill, while I could only rely on my own two hands. I couldn't help but feel a little apologetic towards Xuan Ya.

"Don't feel guilty. Even if you had money, you wouldn't have had the chance. The other six have already been snapped up by pirates." My heart, which had just calmed, began to pound again.

Xuan Ya saw my worry; he shared the same worry. "The pirate king trapped in Somalia used his wealth transferred to land to first hire 'Water of Fate,' the most mysterious of the eight assassins. No one knows his methods, and no one has survived a fight with him." Xuan Ya spoke earnestly; his ideal of revenge seemed distant and ethereal at the edge of the vast ocean!

"Read the full-text novel online, updated faster, all at 16k Literature Network, PC site: www.16k.cn, mobile site: wap.16k.cn. Support literature, support 16k! Two Somali sailors have been hired, Jason Jodi controls the most wealth on the Sea Demon, and the remaining three have already been hired. Therefore, the Sea Demon is the most likely to win over the three elite sailors, and the pressure on you and me is unprecedented."

Hearing the words "unprecedented," I couldn't help but tremble, instantly feeling that the hope of rescuing the women was also incredibly distant and uncertain. The two of us gazed at the vast sea in the distance, silent for a minute, as if our grief surged simultaneously, leaving us only to face it with speechless words.

“Go down the mountain as soon as possible to avoid arousing the black man’s suspicion. Just say you killed me and got these weapons and food. I’ll circle back as fast as I can and evacuate all the guards. Around midnight tonight, sneak to the outside of the iron fence where you fought the Iron-Faced Demon. I’ll throw you a Barrett, along with the necessary food and medicine.”

After saying this, Raven picked up a stick and drew the route for assassinating the Pirate King on the ground, revising his original plan to prioritize saving lives before killing his enemy. We agreed immediately and then hurried down the mountain in the opposite direction.

Raven left me his small green canvas bag. I soaked some iodine in the puncture wound on his chest and bandaged it with medical gauze. With his strong physique, as long as there wasn’t too much bacterial infection, his immune system would help his body recover quickly.

I ran swiftly down the hillside along a lush, mountain crevice, braving the increasingly scorching sun, and crept back into the dense palm grove. I mimicked the calls of tits, slowly making my way deeper, calling to Dumo and the girl who might be emerging from the water.

"Chirp, chirp..." The clear, melodious song of a nightingale grew louder as it approached, gradually fading into my ears. I tried to respond, and the nightingale's call became even more urgent. Overjoyed, I immediately ran towards the source of the sound. Dumo, the tough-skinned kodo beast, wasn't dead; he was alive, communicating using the code we had agreed upon.

Under a cluster of foliage, the girl, naked from the waist up, was using fan-shaped leaves to swat away flies and mosquitoes from the reclining Dumo. Her snow-white neck and back were covered in scratches, some from where the factory guards' fingernails had drawn blood, leaving soft, blistered sores.

Seeing me return safely, they were speechless with excitement, their eyes gleaming brightly. "Thank goodness, you're finally back!" The girl's throat tightened, as if a barrier had suddenly been broken, and she finally uttered a word of joy.

I quickly took off my shirt and draped it over the girl's soft shoulders. Du Mo looked a little better; after all, he had rested overnight and received the girl's attentive care. He had been severely sunburned yesterday, even more so than his physical injuries.

"Don't move! Grit your teeth and bear the pain." With that, I slipped my rough right hand into the girl's fragrant bosom and lifted one of her breasts. The girl, who was squatting, instinctively leaned back slightly, then immediately leaned forward, arching her chest so I could hold her more firmly. The

girl's nipples were still the pinkish-red of a young girl's, without a trace of the dark brown of breastfeeding. But around the two delicate areolas, the bite marks were clearly swollen. I pinched the edges of the affected areas with my fingers, squeezing out the tainted blood, and then took some iodine from my small canvas bag, dipped it in a cotton swab, and gently wiped the girl's skin to kill the bacteria.

The girl's breasts were warm, smooth, and delicate, but the iodine rubbed on her areolas, cool and tingling, stimulated her, making her eyes glaze over and let out a few soft moans. After cleaning that area, I asked the girl if she felt any discomfort. She blushed shyly, straightened her body gently, and quickly stripped naked, turning slowly around in front of me.

The girl finally let go of her reserve, understanding that with a man like me, all worldly concerns could be cast aside, and she could fall into raw, unadulterated human affection. "I... I checked myself, it's fine," the girl said shyly, slowly putting her clothes back on.

Du Mo chuckled twice, but the newly healed crack at the corner of his mouth made him immediately let out a "Hey!" and a rough, helpless sigh, before lying back down. The girl and I stripped Du Mo completely naked again. His dark, thick skin only had bruises, no broken skin. Finally, I cleaned the broken skin on Du Mo's forehead, bridge of his nose, and corner of his mouth.

The iodine and medical gauze were limited and quickly ran out. I shared the food from my canvas bag with the girl and Dumo; they were truly starving, their ravenous eating resembling that of starving people frantically devouring a steamed bun.

Chapter 235: Abundant Supplies in the Rainy Night

"Dumo, when I came down the mountain, I found a cave. It's relatively dry inside; let's hide there first. Tonight, I'll sneak into the factory and steal the other sniper rifle."

The girl was shocked, letting out a gasp as she stared at me with wide, bewildered eyes. "You, you, you finally escaped, why are you going back to die?"

I was shirtless, my bulging, strong muscles gleaming in the morning sun. Carrying the heavy Dumo on my back, I jogged through the palm grove, the branches swaying and rustling.

The girl behind me, hearing my conversation with the weakened Dumo, would always express her surprise and questions nervously. I only said that something important had been left behind in the abandoned factory, but Dumo knew that without a sniper rifle, they couldn't continue their mission.

We rested for a whole day in a cave halfway up the mountain; the heat outside had temporarily spared the three fleeing vagrants.

As evening approached, the entire grassland behind the hills was once again bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun. I looked forward to the night; once we had weapons and enough food, we could proceed secretly according to the plan I had discussed with Xuan Ya.

Around 8 p.m., a sea breeze whistled across the silent grassland. My sense of smell told me that it would rain tonight, but the time I had agreed upon with Xuan Ya couldn't be changed.

"Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh… crack." Extremes beget their opposites; the two days of heat finally brought rain. Although the cave was cool during the day, it was now rather chilly. Dumo was very weak, and the girl was shivering with cold. With only two shirts for the three of us, I could only leap out of the cave, shirtless, and plunge into the dark, rainy wind.

The icy raindrops, landing on my shoulders, made my bulging muscles twitch and contract beneath my skin. It was an unpleasant sensation, but the thought of Yi Liang and the others on the Sea Demon only fueled my anxiety. I gritted my teeth, a grinding sound escaping my lips, and despite being shirtless, I resolutely dashed towards the factory.

Using the route I remembered from the daytime, and the occasional flashes of lightning that pierced the night, I snapped at the wet branches, pressing forward relentlessly. Many glossy leaves, sometimes like brushes, sometimes like needles, chafed my chest and back, causing a constant, itchy ache.

The rainwater that had gathered in the hills began to overflow, and I could hear the bubbling of the stream ahead. When I reached the bank, the swathes of calamus had been swallowed up, and the rushing water leaped and surged forward.

Without a second thought, I tightened my shoelaces to prevent my worn-out military boots from getting snagged on underwater plants while swimming—that would be dangerous. Stepping on the slippery, soft seaweed, I tried to slowly enter the water. When the water reached my waist, my body began to sway from side to side.

Finally, I plunged into the river, spreading my arms in a butterfly stroke. My torso throbbed and jiggled like a dolphin, my strong arms, like the wings of a flying fish, propelling my upper body and back up and down on the surface.

In this way, relying on the violent paddling motion, I finally broke through the force of the current. By the time I reached the bank, fatigue began to creep in.

I followed the narrow crevice in the mountainside, heading back towards the bamboo forest on the other side, hoping the rain wouldn't wash away the weathered rocks; otherwise, they might not only block my path but also smash my skull.

I crossed my hands over my head, carefully pushing my body forward. When I reached the bottleneck, I bent down and groped my way through, only to find the space much larger than before, almost wide enough to pass with a single bend.

I knew this wasn't the extra space created by the factory guards dragging the hyenas along, but rather the clearing of obstacles by the crows beforehand.

"Crack!" Another bolt of lightning struck the distant hilltop, soaking the entire bamboo grove. In the fleeting glint of light in the night sky, the lush green bamboo seemed glistening with moisture. Yet, the wet bamboo leaves still retained a degree of resilience, cutting fine, thread-like wounds into my soaked arms.

The wind howled, its mournful whistling echoing through the dense bamboo forest, like the groans of life trapped in a meat grinder. Gradually, I could see again the sprawling abandoned factory. Now, amidst the flashing lightning and thunder, the chemical tanks within the iron fence appeared and disappeared, like exposed coffins in a graveyard, adding to the eerie and terrifying atmosphere.

Using a flash of lightning, I instantly recognized the location of my fierce battle with the Iron-Faced Demon during the day. I then crouched low like a diver, making my way towards the designated spot. Reaching the outside of the iron fence, I carefully surveyed my surroundings. It was past one in the morning, and I saw no sign of the Hanging Crow.

I moved closer and looked closely. As expected, outside the iron fence, there was a long, narrow package wrapped tightly in a raincoat, glistening with rainwater.

I crawled on the ground like a giant lizard, hooked my hand on the supplies provided by Xuan Ya, and then slowly retreated back into the grass outside the locust grove. I wanted to avoid being discovered by the guards patrolling inside the fence and causing unnecessary trouble.

This package of supplies was unusually heavy. Xuan Ya was meticulous and must have given me many necessities. He was also a sniper and knew which supplies were crucial.

The wind and rain were fierce, and visibility was poor, so I couldn't open it on the spot. I slung the long package over my shoulder and crouched down as I ran towards the bamboo forest.

When I came, I hadn't brought any rope except for the leather trouser pocket, but Xuan Ya had tied the long cloth package well and even designed two loops for me to pass through, allowing me to sling it over my shoulder and move through the night.

As I passed the bottleneck of the mountain crevice again, a bolt of lightning struck down from the high night sky, revealing a dark green surfboard, already soaking wet, lying diagonally two meters above the crevice.

I was right; Hanging Raven had indeed planned this. Just as I was worrying about how to carry my heavy pack across the river, I unexpectedly saw that surfboard, and my joy was indescribable.

The night Du Mo disappeared, his surfboard and I, hidden among the rocks on the beach, had no idea that Hanging Raven had already taken them.

I couldn't help but marvel at the legendary assassins; they were truly extraordinary. Hanging Raven's planning alone was enough to demonstrate his wisdom and terror, not to mention the unfathomable depths of the other seven assassins.

Crossing the turbulent river was naturally easy. I continued jogging, hoping to get back to the cave as soon as possible to get some rest and recover my energy.

As I approached the cavern, I entered another small cave nearby. It was only five or six square meters, but that was enough. I needed to know what was in my bag beforehand, so I could hide anything sensitive that Dumo shouldn't see, or at least prepare a lie.

I drew my dagger, cut open the long, wet cloth bag, and peeled it open layer by layer like a bamboo shoot, first tentatively touching it with my hand, waiting for the next flash of light. A "snap" sounded, and a beam of bright white light flashed past. I instantly spotted a miniature camouflage flashlight and quickly picked it up. A bright, steady beam shone before my eyes.

The first thing I saw was something wrapped in a white plastic bag. I quickly opened it and examined it closely. While I was surprised, a warm feeling welled up inside me.

Jason Jody, despite possessing a large fortune on the Sea Demon, knew I was working for him, yet he treated me extremely harshly.

And Xuan Ya, knowing my current predicament, thoughtfully slipped me a dozen green euros, firstly for emergencies on the journey, and secondly to make my life more comfortable.

I never expected Xuan Ya to be so kind.

Chapter 236: Memories Under the Candlelight

I carefully wrapped this timely windfall of currency, folded it, and laid it flat in my back pocket. The camouflage flashlight emitted a dark red light; when held low to the ground, the diffused beam was only the size of a top hat, effectively preventing me from being spotted at night. Inside the

long oilcloth bag were three smaller pouches; two were filled with food—beef jerky, sausages, and chocolate. The other pouch was bulging with medicine, even containing a plastic-sealed scalpel and small tweezers.

If I were shot again, I wouldn't have to resort to a heated dagger and gunpowder to save myself like I did on the desert island; the pain would be greatly reduced.

Cooperating with Xuan Ya made me feel much more relaxed, because I didn't need to say much; he subconsciously thought of everything. This unspoken understanding is crucial, especially when facing life-or-death situations and being unable to contact each other due to circumstances.

The last long cloth bag, its outline and size all too familiar, was zipped up with a "whoosh," revealing a brand-new Barrett sniper rifle, still faintly smelling of metal and machine oil. I took a deep breath, countless memories flooding my mind.

I already had a small green canvas bag from Raven, and now he'd given me another. Holding it in my hand, the weight and the satisfying "clatter" of the bag indicated at least a hundred sniper bullets inside—enough for killing enemies or fighting off pursuers. Jason Jody on the Sea Demon, on the other hand, only offered me and Dumo twenty bullets.

Raven was providing these things to me free of charge. Compared to the weapons and treasure I controlled on the desert island, it was insignificant, but the situation was different now. Every bullet in the bag was earned by Raven through risking his life, purchased through various channels.

Therefore, it was already quite remarkable that he had done this. After all, I was now penniless, without a suitable weapon. Even the most powerful killing machine would be greatly diminished, making my movements difficult.

I stuffed all the torn ropes and extra bags into the crevices of the cave, simply wrapped the items in my raincoat, and rushed back into the dark, windy night, sprinting towards Dumo and the girl's cave.

This way, Dumo wouldn't notice anything amiss, convinced that I had risked my life to steal the items, rather than someone else having neatly packed them up for me.

Upon reaching the cave entrance, I first threw three pebbles inside. Hearing the girl's joyful cry, I stepped into the cave, the raindrops splashing onto the rocks.

"Hehe, look! Our hero is back! I told you not to worry, but you didn't believe me," Dumo teased the girl, unable to contain his excitement. "Hmm," I responded with a muffled groan, indicating that I was unharmed.

I turned on my small flashlight and shone it on the girl and Dumo's faces, and they immediately became excited. In the pitch-black cave, a beam of light could illuminate the stuffy eyes, extending their vision—a truly joyful thing for everyone.

I spread my pack in the center of the cave, took out a golden, windproof lighter, and quickly lit a candle. The orange light flickered and danced, slowly pushing the surrounding darkness against the stone walls.

"Great! With light, I'm not afraid anymore," the girl said happily, then walked to the flickering candle, seemingly observing it curiously, but actually seeking a bit of warmth.

"Here." I stretched out my strong arm and handed her a piece of chocolate. The girl was taken aback for a moment, then quickly took it and bit into her pearly teeth. "Hey! It's so cold in the rainy night, give me one too." Seeing the girl eating so happily, Dumo couldn't help but swallow and said anxiously.

"Thud." Immediately, I tossed another piece to Dumo. He was quite happy, his dazzlingly white teeth instantly showing on his dark, shiny face, and the brightness of the candlelight in the cave seemed to rise a little.

"If we get some dry branches and hunt an antelope, and smoke it over a fire, I guarantee you'll have the most delicious roast meat." Dumo said longingly as he chewed the sweet treat.

Dumo's words made sense. We finally had guns, and sniper rifles at that. Not to mention an antelope, even an African lion could be hunted with ease.

"The factory was terrifying tonight, like a graveyard. Two of their key figures died during the day, their morale is low, and they certainly didn't expect me to dare sneak in on a rainy night." Du Mo, after hearing this, realized he'd been so focused on eating and drinking that he'd completely overlooked the difficulty of obtaining the supplies, especially my safety.

"Oh! Oh, after you left, that girl kept talking about you, always worried about you. I told you, a hero's appearance brings success, right? Chase... the Soul-Chasing Deadly Hand. Hahaha..."

Du Mo was about to mention my name when I suddenly turned and glared at him fiercely. He quickly changed his tune, making up a nonsensical name.

I didn't want anything to affect the plan to rescue Yi Liang and the others. If the girl knew my name, even if I didn't kill her, Xuan Ya wouldn't spare her life. I didn't want the girl to suffer innocent harm, which is why I sternly threatened Du Mo, making him remain vigilant and remember that this mission involved multiple lives.

At the same time, I also dispelled any suspicion Du Mo might have had about a secret collaboration between me and Xuan Ya. Read easily on your mobile phone: wαр.⑴⑹k.cn

"Alright, tomorrow we'll hunt an antelope so you can indulge your cooking cravings. The food in this

bag is only enough to keep us from starving; it's far from enough to satisfy our hunger." With that, I smiled slightly at the girl. She was squatting beside the candle, her small, white hands almost cupping the tiny flame, dimming the light in the cave.

"I want to go home tomorrow. I wonder how my parents are doing!" Seeing my gentle expression, the girl took the opportunity to plead tentatively. We met eyes for three seconds, and my smile deepened.

"You're free. You can go wherever you want. You don't need to beg us, but there's a small request." I blinked my eyelashes, still glistening with raindrops.

"Yes, I understand. Just be gentle." The girl said cheerfully, standing up and slowly taking off her top, spreading it beside the candle, preparing to lie down gently, legs spread wide, waiting for me.

The girl's stubbornness reminded me of Luya, and of the times we caught mountain trout together. I was somewhat lost in memories, so it wasn't until the girl was completely lying on the shirt spread out on the stone that I snapped out of the sudden surge of recollection.

Dumo didn't speak; he leaned slightly forward, his mouth half-open, his eyes bulging as if time had stopped, staring at me as if something was about to happen.

"Dumo is injured now, and I need to recover my strength. This process will take about three days. After three days, we'll leave Mauritius, and you can go home. At that time, the bad guys won't bother you anymore. Do you understand?" I smiled as I looked at the innocent girl.

Chapter 237: The Death Line in the Grass
She looked like she had just woken up, struggling to prop herself up on her elbows, blinking at me with a bewildered expression. "I understand, I know what you mean. You're not bad guys." The girl was disappointed, but also slightly happy.

“Don’t worry, girl. Look at my peaceful face, I look just like a black version of Santa Claus. How could we be bad people?” Dumo’s words amused the girl, but also made his split lip ache, causing him to hiss involuntarily.

“What can I do for you?” the girl asked kindly, and I knew she was grateful. “I’ll go get some hay and firewood tomorrow, and hunt some game while I’m at it. You just need to look after my companion.”

Dumo raised an eyebrow at me, indicating his satisfaction with my arrangement. “Then, then, may I know your name?” The girl’s innocence made my brows twitch slightly.

“Sure, my name is…” Faced with the girl’s sudden curiosity, I was momentarily at a loss for words, unlike the improvisation required when captured by the enemy. I knew the girl wanted to remember my name, to bury it deep in her indomitable heart, to cherish it for a lifetime.

"Sigh! I won't make things difficult for you. It's a fake name anyway. How about I help you think of one?" The girl was full of optimism for the future. Although she had suffered in the small house yesterday, she firmly believed she hadn't sold her soul.

"How about '

Swift Wind Big Guy'? Because when I grabbed your waistband and ran away, I felt you were as fast as the wind, giving me a sense of security that could overcome any obstacle." The girl stammered for a while before coming up with such a verbose name. Although it sounded extremely awkward, at least it wouldn't reveal my identity or cause trouble later.

I nodded, indicating that she could call me that. The girl's eyes lit up immediately upon my agreement. "Really? I guess you like this name too." My dry, rain-soaked lips parted slightly, and I responded to the girl who was willing to cooperate with us for three days.

After cleaning Du Mo's wounds a second time, I reapplied iodine to the girl's areolas. This time, she openly laid her soft breasts in my palm, letting me carefully clean the edges of the teeth marks. The previous swelling had subsided somewhat.

The girl's bright eyes gazed at me with trust. As the alcohol swabs were applied, her eyes gradually closed, and soft moans escaped from her slightly bitten lips.

That night, by the warm glow of candlelight, I disassembled and reassembled the Barrett sniper rifle, using the process to check for any flaws or defects. The result was satisfactory. The Raven had even provided me with an optical sight and a super telescope with a red lens.

We were both exhausted and slept until the sun was high in the sky. After blinking a few times and checking the weapons and food, Dumo and the girl were still sound asleep.

Dazzling light streamed in from the crack above the cave entrance, carrying the humid, oppressive heat of the evaporating earth.

I slowly got up and retrieved the fishing line I had laid across the cave entrance before sleeping. Although this was the Raven's territory, the large predators of the grassland didn't care. If they were starving or smelled blood, they would pounce and tear into the prey.

After waking Dumo and the girl, I explained the day's activities. Before leaving, I tossed Dumo a pistol to protect him from wild animal attacks.

"Ha! Good stuff. With this weapon, we wouldn't be afraid of even a few lions," Dumo exclaimed, recognizing the FN57 pistol at a glance. The girl, however, seemed a little frightened by his words.

"Don't worry, even though Dumo is injured, his marksmanship is top-notch. I have binoculars; they can protect you even from a distance," I reassured the girl. Then, I slung two sniper rifles over my shoulder and left the cave.

Following the lush vegetation of the hillside, I first needed to use my dagger to cut some half-yellowed wormwood. With the help of the scorching sun, I could dry it for half a day and bring it back to the cave as bedding for the night.

Firewood was the easiest to obtain, as several large trees grew near the cave entrance. On my way down, I used my dagger to cut many branches, as there were no enemies nearby, allowing me to freely damage the trees. By dusk, when I returned from my hunt, I estimated that the branches had mostly dried out.

As I ran down the hillside, a vast grassland stretched out before me, receding into the distance from the foot of the hills. The girl had mentioned that there were lingering minefields in the grassland, and I carefully peered through my binoculars. Sure enough, I found many dead branches standing upright like stakes in the weeds. Of course, even with warning batons, I wouldn't go near there; who knows if there were any missed mines.

I quickly cut down large swaths of waist-high dry grass, the damp ground steaming and scorching my skin as I bent over to work. Moreover, I noticed a pride of brown-yellow lions, their forms appearing and disappearing in the rolling waves of grass to the northwest of the grassland.

I hid my Barrett sniper rifle near the cave; no one but myself could have the chance to touch this weapon. If it malfunctioned or was tampered with, I'd likely be dead on Madagascar before

even reaching Somalia. According to Raven's prediction, we would team up there for the first time to eliminate the second assassin who was heading to Somalia with me. This would mean Jason Jodi on the Sea Demon would have to rely entirely on me, increasing Luya and the others' safety. Even if Raven's fears were true, the Sea Demon still had two of its eight top assassins on standby, which couldn't be deployed immediately.

As I pondered these questions, my dagger quickly chopped enough wormwood, for I was upwind, and the lion pride to the northwest might have caught a whiff of the danger. Large herds of antelope and zebras were gathering east of the minefield; perhaps the animals, too, sensed the deadly stench of the explosion, thus drawing a line between them.

My sniper rifle had an effective range of 800 meters. I didn't want to kill the lions unless they attacked first, but I had to be careful. If these kings of the savanna got close, it would be no safer than dealing with a single assassin.

Facing the scorching sun, I carried my sniper rifle and climbed higher, hoping to spot a lone large herbivore on the nearby grasslands. The higher I climbed, the more stifling and unbearable the heat became; it felt as if the sun was right on the mountaintop, and I was approaching it.

The white grass shimmered, the moisture from last night's fall dried, and I cut a palm leaf, holding it like a small umbrella above my head. The zebras and antelopes remained far beyond the minefield, each strictly adhering to the laws of survival.

They seemed to know that in a herd of ten thousand, the probability of death from a lion or leopard was only one in ten thousand; if they were in small groups, survival was naturally much more difficult once attacked.

The sun hung high in the sky, like a burning fireball. I stood halfway up the high hill, drenched in sweat. Although I had a sniper rifle slung over my shoulder, similar difficulties arose again, like those on the deck in the middle of the river on the deserted island. Bullets could easily kill the target; the key was how to retrieve it safely.

I swallowed hard, moistening my parched throat, and gradually felt God watching over me again.

Chapter 238: Rushing into the Grass

to Snatch Fresh Meat. Halfway up the hill, I began to circle around behind the minefield. If I wanted to hunt an antelope, I would have to travel a long way. I wasn't far from the herbivores, about 500 meters away, but there was a minefield in a straight line. I wasn't foolish enough to trust the warning signs, nor would I be in the middle of the grass, letting a lion drag me away and chew me up like a shark.

I unscrewed the water bottle on my back, spat a small mouthful, and held it in my mouth to soothe the heat in my throat. My sniper rifle was practically soaked in sweat on my back. If only the crow had given me an extra layer of clothing; in this heat, I couldn't wear an unbreathable raincoat.

My shirt was on the girl; I wouldn't let her go shirtless except for desperate situations like escaping or applying medicine. After all, she was a woman.

The muscles in my chest and arms, bulging as if from the sun, glistened with oily sweat. The path was uneven, and I would occasionally kick up a trail of loose stones, tumbling down the sloping mountainside.

I carefully maintained my balance; every step was laborious. My right hand, gripping the dagger, would occasionally stab into a crevice in the mountainside to catch my falling body.

After walking for about two hours, the palm leaves I'd used for shade were wilted from the heat, like a dead chicken, impossible to straighten no matter how much I shook them. I discarded the excess weight and pressed on.

Finally, I came across a rock resembling an eave, jutting out from the mountainside, where I could finally sit down and rest. The herd of black and white striped zebras was right in front of me. I shifted my binoculars to the right, and saw a large group of brown antelopes leisurely grazing and strolling, their eyes filled with a deep-seated fear, constantly alert to their surroundings.

I was about 400 meters away, halfway up the hill, rifle on my back, facing a large expanse of fresh, live prey, like shopping in a supermarket, choosing the fat or lean as I pleased.

Shooting one would be easy, but the problem was that after killing the prey, I'd have to climb down the hillside and run to retrieve it. This process would take three minutes, but the hyenas lurking all around would be more than enough to steal this easy advantage, dragging the prey away without a trace.

So, I had to go down first, crouching low in the grass, inching closer to the antelope herd, ensuring my shooting distance was within a hundred meters, so I could protect my prey and stop the hyenas from scrambling for it.

After resting for five minutes and drinking some fresh water, I slung my sniper rifle over my shoulder and descended the hillside. With a pistol in my left hand and a sharp

dagger in my right, I crouched hidden in the tangled reeds, heading towards my target with murderous intent. The heat of the grassland was intense; the smell of the muddy grass mixed with animal droppings was overwhelming, making it hard to breathe. If I killed a zebra, I'd probably have a hard time dragging it back by myself, and we wouldn't be able to eat such a large carcass in three days. Greed and waste are dangerous when you can take whatever you want.

Butchering takes time and removes a lot of internal organs and debris, which easily attracts predators; carrying too much fresh meat back to the cave for storage will also result in a strong odor – all of these are irrational acts that invite danger. So I decided to shoot a medium-sized young antelope.

After scanning the surroundings again, and finding no lurking predators, I quietly took the sniper rifle from my back. Hunting at this distance was as easy as picking up a steak with a fork.

Through the scope, a young antelope, just freed from its mother's protection, was leisurely chewing on grass. It had no horns, and its large, watery black eyes occasionally glanced in my direction, as if sensing death but uncertain. Finally, as if not wanting to scare itself, it twitched its ears and flicked its small, white-tipped tail.

The hyenas around me, as if sensing my presence beforehand, let out warning howls, more like a call to each other, preparing to snatch the antelope I had shot.

A sharp "bang!" shattered the monotonous stillness of the grassland. A bullet, whistling through the dense grass, cut a straight line towards the young antelope's forehead, instantly blasting a hole in the flesh. The surrounding skin and flesh were torn apart like a half-open beer cap.

The large herds of zebras and antelopes, startled at first, surged towards the sparse forest behind them. The once peaceful grassland was now a scene of escalating danger, like a burst pipe unleashing its fury; the entire land was ablaze with dust.

I quickly rose, slung my sniper rifle over my shoulder, and ran towards my prey. The remaining hyenas followed the herd, stumbling and swaying, attempting to seize a zebra calf amidst the chaos.

The withered grass chafed my back and ribs, but also dried a considerable amount of sweat. I couldn't help but lick my chapped lips, trying to moisturize my skin, though it was merely a placebo effect.

As I approached, the withered grass on the little antelope's forehead was stained crimson with blood, oozing purplish-black blood mixed with fragments of milky-white brain matter. I scooped the antelope up, hoisted it onto my shoulder, and turned to run, dashing towards the hillside where we had rested.

The pack of hyenas chasing the zebra herd suddenly turned and chased after me, as if I had stolen their prey. I grabbed the antelope's ear with my left hand and pulled out my FN57 pistol from my backside with my right, ready to teach these troublesome creatures a lesson.

The hyenas that had caught up with me numbered about eleven or twelve, flanking me on either side, limping and drooling, their eyes fixed on the antelope on my shoulder with a fascination.

"Thump, thump," just as I reached the foot of the hill and was about to begin my ascent, three hyenas suddenly accelerated and surged ahead of me.

I understood; they were adjusting their formation, preparing to pounce. "Awooo..." Three hyenas, their bellies rumbling, didn't have time to turn around before being shot down on the grass, rolling around with the momentum of their run. The piercing screams were deafening.

Seeing their companion's gruesome death, the remaining hyenas immediately stopped, howling as they ran back; none dared to lead me on.

I loosened my shoulders, letting the antelope I was carrying sit more steadily. Blood dripped down my chest, staining my bulging left pectoral muscle a bright red, the dry leather boot toes displaying the fallen bloodstains in plum blossom shapes.

Once we reached the resting spot halfway up the mountain, I could draw my dagger and butcher it. Draining the blood and emptying the antelope's entrails would significantly reduce its weight, making the journey back easier.

In just four minutes, I climbed the roof-like rock formation, pulled out my gleaming dagger, and with a swift motion, slit the little antelope's throat. Its body slid downwards, the thick blood sliding down the dark blue-green rock face. It evaporated quickly under the intense sun, solidifying into a jelly-like consistency, resembling an earthworm. It didn't crawl more than a few steps before drying out and dying on the sun-baked rocks.

Chapter 239:

Mistakenly Entering Fang Territory. Carrying the cleaned antelope back, I hurried along the mountainside. Several carrion crows and vultures circled overhead, secretly gathering their strength, ready to snatch the remaining blood sausage and liver from the rocks.

Buzzing flies ignored the high-flying creatures, relying on their speed to buzz around my ears from the moment I began the slaughter.

I didn't have time to pay attention to these little creatures, because the smell of blood would stimulate the predators' aggression. Not only could the hyenas retaliate, but a few lions or leopards could suddenly appear.

The antelope, gutted, weighed less than thirty kilograms. This high-protein, delicious meat was enough to feed us for three days, providing a significant boost to our bodies, strengthening our immunity, and accelerating the healing of the girl and Dumo's wounds.

Actually, Dumo and the girl's injuries made it difficult to eat beef, mutton, dog meat, seafood, and spicy food. However, antelope meat has a lower calorie content, similar to pork, which is beneficial for recovery from a traditional Chinese medicine perspective; secondly, the availability of high-protein edible species on the grasslands is limited, so we couldn't expect too much. We should be grateful that God provided us with food.

My shoulders, covered in greasy sweat and blood, were sore from carrying the antelope, so I put the meat down and, while observing through binoculars, took a breather.

In Mauritius alone, the heat was already suffocating. Imagine suddenly being transported by boat to Somalia, facing the tropical environment near the equator – it would be like someone accustomed to the plains suddenly ascending to high altitude; physical strength and heart rate would be put to the test.

Doumo definitely needed rest. Although the unexpected three-day delay had taken its toll, I secretly prepared, using the current high temperatures to warm up my body so that I could adapt to the environment in the shortest time possible and engage in a life-or-death struggle with my enemies upon entering Somalia.

My gaze swept across the undulating grassland through the binoculars. Just as I lowered my hand from my eye sockets, the scene reflected in my pupils sent a shiver down my spine, cold sweat pouring down my body.

In the center of the sweltering grassland, five powerful lionesses appeared, heads bowed, shoulders hunched, crouching as they approached me. The one in the lead, seeing me aim the binoculars at them, immediately craned its neck to meet my gaze.

Objects a hundred meters away were exceptionally clear through the binoculars, as if a distant scene had suddenly rushed in front of me, making it hard to breathe. The lioness had triangular, black-rimmed eyes with a pair of eerie yellow pupils that constantly squinted together, making a direct confrontation with her terrifying.

It was like being forcibly shoved into an iron cage, only to turn around and be met with a massive lion staring at you with those same eyes, its mouth slightly open as it began to stand.

This imposing posture was like glaring at a wildebeest invading its territory. A dry, fierce wind swept up from the grasslands at the foot of the mountain, filled with a chilling murderous aura.

These kings of the grasslands didn't know that the antelope I carried on my shoulder could be obtained with a simple pull of the trigger, a far more dangerous move than their seemingly ferocious attack.

Perhaps, in the eyes of these five lionesses, I and the antelope on their shoulders were one, merely a herbivore reeking of strong carnivorous flesh, openly provoking me.

The five kings of the grasslands were less than a hundred meters away, fanning out to trap me halfway up the mountain. This meant I couldn't reach the summit, nor escape the encirclement.

If they were close together, a single shot to blow the head off the foremost lion or shatter its eyeball would send the other lionesses fleeing in terror.

But the situation was peculiar; the closer the five lionesses got, the more scattered they became. Even if I shattered one lion's skull, the other four wouldn't see the horrific sight of their fallen companion.

I knew all too well the danger and terror of lions at close range; their attack speed was several times faster than one could imagine given their bulky bodies.

For example, a chameleon's tongue can spring out like an arrow, catching insects and then engulfing them in its stomach.

So, if you magnified a chameleon to the size of an adult lion, its sticky tongue could strike a person's face at the same speed as catching an insect. Without understanding this, even the most skilled assassin and the most advanced firearms would likely find themselves trapped.

I couldn't hesitate. The danger was closing in with time. Watching the five lionesses about to emerge from the grassland and surge up the hillside, I slowly lowered my sniper rifle. With a click, the bolt vibrated, and I attached the scope to my left eye, first capturing the shoulder of one of the lionesses.

"Bang!" A bullet whistled through the air, leaving a trail of intense white smoke as it struck the lioness crouching beneath the grass. She was jerked like a pair of tongs, roaring and leaping up before crashing to the ground, her hind legs kicking twice in the air before she died, trembling.

This situation was extremely dangerous. An unsuspecting hunter would hardly notice. The five lions approaching in a fan shape created the illusion that they were attacking one after another. In reality, I was at the center of the circle, with the same radius between me and the five beasts. Their plan was to pounce simultaneously and tear their prey apart.

Chapter 240: Leaping off the final springboard

, four lions stood on either side. One, its face pierced by a bullet, seemed to weep, its large, furry paws clutching its bleeding cheek, its body twisting and turning in agony, crushing the surrounding grass.

Another tawny lioness, its spine broken by a hot bullet, collapsed onto the grass, as if commanded by its trainer.

The lions' ability to sense danger exceeded my expectations. The remaining two lionesses seemed to smell the blood of their companion in the dry air; their approaching steps faltered, their focused expressions revealing unease.

The lioness with the broken spine struggled longer, its muffled cries of pain penetrating the dense grass and reaching its companions. This low-pitched signal, like a hot knife through cheese, was imperceptible to the human ear and easily blocked by plants, but could be received by wild beasts.

In the rainforest, many paths often appear out of nowhere. These are often routes elephants take to scavenge wild fruit under trees. To prevent their companions from going hungry, they use low growls to warn each other. Therefore, the compassion between animals is rarely noticed by humans, just as we rarely notice our own shame.

The other two lions finally abandoned their prone attack posture and instead strolled leisurely into the depths of the grassland. Watching the two beasts disappear into the distance, the icy terror in my heart subsided. The heat returned, and I slung my sniper rifle over my shoulder, hoisted the limp antelope back onto my back, and headed towards the cave.

"Oh! My God, this is fantastic! An antelope! We'll have a feast tonight! Watch my kodo beast, Dumo's, cooking skills! Hehe..."

As soon as I entered the cool cave, the first thing that caught my eye was Dumo's set of teeth, white as snow. He had already sat up against the rock wall; he had been lying there for a full day and two nights and was clearly tired of that position.

"Yes, I'll go get some more firewood. When it gets dark, you can enjoy the fun of cooking." After saying that, I shrugged my shoulders, slapping the antelope meat heavily onto the rock.

"I'll come with you. I used to often cut grass and gather firewood on the mountain." The girl, who had been sitting with her knees drawn up, suddenly stood up and walked over, her eyes fixed on me with an undeniable gaze.

"Okay," I agreed. With the girl's help, the day's work progressed quickly. We bundled the sun-dried grass into a large roll and a small roll; the girl carried the smaller one, and I carried the larger one.

At dusk, we gathered the branches we had chopped that morning and brought them back to the cave. In the evening, a roaring bonfire was lit in the center of the cave, and Dumo enthusiastically propped up a branch, intending to make a whole roasted lamb for us, the kind of lamb served at a high-class banquet.

The girl was very happy tonight, as if Dumo's antics had brought her into a real temple feast. (Mobile reading: wàp.16κ.cn, text version first release)

Actually, Dumo's barbecue was mediocre. Since everyone was hungry, and given the environment, it inevitably tasted somewhat good. But compared to Chi Chun's cooking, Dumo should learn a thing or two from this charming woman.

Everyone ate their fill and went to bed early, especially Dumo, lying on the soft grass, hugging his full beer belly, his face beaming with a smile of lingering satisfaction. This smile was like a slippery fish, impossible to hold back or conceal.

He flashed two rows of dazzling white teeth, his dark face facing the warm red campfire, constantly talking to the girl, asking her what delicious food she had eaten before, whether today's roasted lamb had left an unforgettable impression—basically, all flaunting and boasting about his mediocre cooking skills.

It seemed this guy had slept quite soundly during the day, showing no signs of fatigue at all. I lay near the cave entrance, feeling the end of the fishing line outside, tethered to my little finger. An FN57 pistol was tucked under the dry grass beside my head.

The three days passed both long and short. I only occasionally went to the river to fetch some water. There wasn't a trace of Xuan Ya or his henchmen; I knew they were also secretly gathering strength for the battle on Madagascar.

On the last night before leaving the cave, the last pile of firewood struggled to burn, as if reluctant to part, stubbornly holding on until dawn. Du Mo snored loudly, carefree and oblivious to the world's troubles.

I faced the darkness outside the cave, unable to sleep, listening to the distant sound of the sea, imagining the floating Sea Demon, and how Lu Ya, Yi Liang, and Chi Chun's bodies must also be swaying gently with the waves…

Suddenly, a pair of soft, warm arms rested on my shoulders. Delicate fingers explored my chest muscles, while two warm, tender breasts pressed against my back.

I didn't turn around, knowing it was the girl who would be leaving us tomorrow. She murmured, savoring the sensation of our skin rubbing together, her constantly rising and falling body seemingly trying to merge with mine.

Memories instantly flooded back, reminding me of Yi Liang's gentleness, of them seemingly right beside me, sleeping sweetly in this very cave. The girl hugged my strong, large back tightly, her excitement fading after a moment of excitement. She had fallen asleep.

I knew that three days together had brought a touch of melancholy, perhaps more intense and harder for the girl to bear, for she was a woman, a sensitive and delicate spirit.

Dawn broke quickly. A bright, red sun rose from the forest at the edge of the grassland. Du Mo and I packed our belongings in silence. The girl sat by the stone wall, hugging her knees, staring blankly at us.

Today, Dumo was also silent. After everything was prepared, we both shouldered our packs. Just two steps from the cave entrance, we could continue our journey.

I looked back at the girl; she was still sitting with her knees drawn up, tears streaming down her face.

Dumo glanced at me, and I gently walked to the girl's side and slowly squatted down. "You can go home today. We'll escort you to the foot of the hill." The girl shook her head vigorously. "No need, I often come here to pick wild beans; I can go home by myself." With that, she hugged my neck tightly, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I know you have important things to do. Perhaps we'll never see each other again. I will always remember you and Dumo, forever!" The girl's words made Dumo and me feel a pang of sadness.

I removed the girl's arm, cupped her tear-streaked face, and gently wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes with my rough, dry thumb. “Don’t cry, do you know a little girl who sells ice?” I described the girl’s appearance and her old black bicycle. She quickly nodded, saying that the girl was her neighbor and was often bullied by bad people.

“Here, give her three bills. The ice-selling girl once excitedly wished to me that she could earn a hundred rupees. Here are the other three.” I pulled out a stack of euros from my back pocket, took out six bills, and stuffed them into the girl’s hand.

“If anyone causes you trouble, just say that Big Guy Gale doesn’t want you to get into trouble, understand?” The girl fluttered her damp eyelashes twice and obediently nodded.

Chapter 241: The Indifferent Town Carpenter

Facing the morning sun, on the silent grassland, the air was cool and damp. In two or three hours, the heat wave would rise again, baking all life wrapped in moisture.

Dumo and I, carrying guns, walked forward in silence. Hyenas, in groups of three or five, had gotten up very early, probably wanting to take advantage of the dim light to ambush the lazy herbivores.

To this day, I still don't know what kind of mission Dumo received at the abandoned factory. The M25 sniper rifle, with an effective range of 800 meters, was slung across Dumo's round, thick back.

I also gave him a small green canvas bag, which he slung over one shoulder over his plump upper body. Now, Dumo looked like a cartoon bear carrying a hunting rifle, somewhat comical and endearing.

The Barrett rifle, wrapped in its holster, stood diagonally on my back. Dumo was, after all, my partner; he wouldn't get in my way before we reached Somalia. So, I gave him an extra FN57 pistol for quick, short-range counterattacks.

The wild animals on the grassland, seeing us approaching with unwavering resolve, wisely gave way, keeping a safe distance, as if they could sense the heavy killing intent emanating from the weapons.

Around noon, Dumo and I swam across the Black River. The terrain on the other side was relatively flat, and we began to run. When we got hungry, we opened our canvas bags and ate some roasted antelope meat.

When we left the cave, most of the roasted antelope was still left. I gave the girl a bag so she could take it home to eat.

In the evening, Dumo and I finally arrived at a small town near Bobasun. The town was pitifully small; the coconut trees from the coast grew sparsely here, each tall and straight, their grayish-white bark etched with all sorts of scars.

Under the coconut groves, several rows of small houses sat, mostly built of planks and dried coconut leaves. Dumo said that the town was full of fishermen, but there was an old man who specialized in repairing fishing boats, and he was a friend of Dumo's.

We crouched and hid near the town, waiting until it was darker before Dumo led the way to knock on the dilapidated door of an old black man. The owner was very welcoming to Dumo, but unusually cold to me. He brought an oil lamp and a plate of dried fish slices, placing them on a dirty wooden table as our dinner.

Dumo made a simple plank bed for me in the old carpenter's hut himself, carefully cleaning it so I could rest early. He, however, slept in the old man's bed, which reeked of cigarette smoke. Dumo knew I didn't smoke and hated the smell, even though he didn't smoke himself, he still made the sacrifice.

The old carpenter didn't sleep; he busied himself in his small thatched shed outside his yard. When Dumo woke me late at night, the old man had already forged two long wooden chests for us.

The chests were lined with thick layers of herbs, their bitter aroma particularly strong, and at the bottom were several bottles of strong liquor.

These were all decoys, designed to make it easier for us to carry our weapons onto the ship. The open lid of the box perfectly concealed our sniper rifle and pistol; if we encountered security checks on the ship, the worst that could happen was having a few bottles of slightly prohibited liquor confiscated.

Furthermore, the inside of the box lid was coated with an oil that interfered with high-frequency oscillators—anti-metal detection oil. This way, the shape and metallic properties of the weapons were well concealed.

I suddenly realized that this gaunt old man wasn't just a simple carpenter; his professional methods had served countless smugglers out to sea.

The old carpenter was rigid and inflexible, indifferent to the nature of his business. As long as the employer paid, whether Dumo and I were hiding drugs or assassinating a beloved official, he would still make his money. Whether we died or were framed, it was none of his concern, because the crime would happen abroad.

However, this time, the old man's cold-blooded humanity prematurely pushed him to the end. I knew very well that even an innocent and good woman like Camilla had been murdered; what chance did he have?

It was clear that Jason Jody had great confidence in this operation, which coincided with the Raven's concerns; the Sea Demon had likely hired three renowned assassins.

Dumo asked me for three euros and hired a horse-drawn carriage. We loaded two large wooden crates filled with herbs and headed straight for Port Louis.

Unlike the nameless towns of Cambodia, although the locals also used horse-drawn carriages, it wasn't due to poverty or mud, but rather because of environmental laws.

Port Louis was already packed with people heading to the African continent early in the morning. Various packages and suitcases were piled at their feet, everyone eagerly awaiting the 8:00 AM ferry arrival.

The coachman unloaded the two crates and rushed back to town. Dumo and I dragged our luggage, trying to squeeze into the crowd. The two seemingly large crates, now subtly integrated into the massive queue, immediately lost their size.

The passengers were a mix of Black, White, Asian, and mixed-race people. Elderly people, leading children, stood anxiously in the bustling crowd; young couples embraced, their faces occasionally breaking into relaxed expressions, soothing each other's anxieties.

"Tsk, tsk, look at those affectionate couples. Sigh! These people, when faced with trivial troubles, they'll put on a grand show of love conquering all, but when it comes to real hardship, they're all incredibly cynical."

Dumo's excitement at the surging crowd was far stronger than mine; he must have been holding back for a long time on the mini-submarine.

I withdrew my gaze from the crowd, glanced at Dumo, and reminded him not to pay attention to such trivial matters. He quickly lowered his head and pushed his suitcase forward, closer to the luggage of the spice-trading passenger.

A large white passenger ship approached from the distant sea, its horn like a shot of adrenaline, stirring excitement among the passengers. "Should we push? Just look at their eyes; you can imagine how selfish they are," Dumo whispered to me.

"Don't push the elderly and children, be careful with your pockets, and remember, our figures are already quite conspicuous, so don't do anything unusual." Du Mo said "Oh," and the force he used to drag the wooden crates lessened considerably.

The old carpenter was very professional, and Du Mo and I passed through security smoothly, dragging our luggage down to the lower deck. This passenger ship was less than half the size of the large ship I had stolen on the desert island. Judging from the clothes of the passengers around us, it was clear that this was not a luxury ferry, but only a vessel for ordinary people to cross the sea.

"Hey, hero. You know what? The old carpenter's son is the person in charge when we went through security." After saying that, Du Mo grinned, but the pain didn't flare up.

I squatted in a corner of the cabin. Because of the crowd, the two wooden crates had to be stood upright, and there was no chance to sit down.

Chapter 242: Child Lover Appears in the Cabin

"Beer, drinks, mineral water, ham, instant noodles, peanuts..." A fat woman, wearing a chef's uniform stained with oil, pushed a food cart and squeezed into the crowd, sticking out her large, arrogant buttocks.

"Come on! Get out of the way!" A loud, threatening voice shouted, signaling the crowded passengers ahead to move aside or clear away their heavy luggage. The dining car maintained its optimal sales pace, unchanged.

"Oh my God! It's so crowded, are we supposed to float?" "Yeah, there are elderly people and children in there, it's too much trouble for them to move. This is first class, we poor people travel with plenty of food and water, even if you squeeze to the front, no one will buy anything." Two men complained

angrily from the crowded passengers, their broken English tinged with the intonation of an African dialect. "With so many people, we have to be considerate of each other, my little dining car won't kill anyone! Serving you poor people is such a hassle."

Just as Dumo was about to get up to look at the lively crowd in the middle, I quickly grabbed his arm and stopped him. Because, at this moment, what we feared most was being noticed or getting into trouble.

“We paid a high price for inferior class tickets, but that doesn’t mean we have inferior rights. This food cart you’re pushing is weaving in and out of our rented space. Do you think this is a slave ship?” a Black woman holding a child said, clearly dissatisfied.

“Yes, yes. You’re clearly asking us to make way for you, yet you have the audacity to talk about mutual tolerance. Fine, we’ll make way for you, but you can move the food cart forward another twenty meters and then back. That’s what mutual tolerance is!” the first man who raised the objection retorted, unwilling to be fooled.

The obese white woman squinted, lifting her fat breasts that were pressed against the cart, her protruding buttocks slightly lessening. “What if someone at the end of the cabin needs to buy something? I’m providing service to everyone. Are you going to cause trouble? Are you going to undermine the right of every passenger to enjoy this service?”

“Shit!” the Black woman holding the child, unable to tolerate the obese white woman’s sophistry and incitement, cursed impatiently. “If the food you sell is the same as the primary agricultural products provided by the plantations in my hometown, without exploitation or profiteering, I would be very grateful for your service. Now, put away your exorbitant profits and get to the first class to serve those corrupt officials and businessmen!”

The white, plump woman was speechless after hearing the black woman's scolding. But she was unwilling to be “fooled” by the poor, so instead of pushing her cart back dejectedly, she picked up the walkie-talkie on her shoulder and started speaking in another language.

Few people on the ship could understand her. In less than ten minutes, a flight attendant wearing a police cap askew came down from the third class. Long blond hair peeked out from under the brim. This man was tall and burly, with a solid, plump body and skin as white as the plump woman.

“Take-off! Take-off!” the ship's police officer shouted, shoving passengers who were blocking his way with his hairy arms.

The man had a police baton tucked under his arm and, as if rescuing a damsel in distress, rushed towards the plump woman who couldn't squeeze her food cart into the crowd. The woman who had returned the dining car, seeing her backup arrive, instantly regained her confidence, her ample breasts bulging like bursting balloons.

Another round of chatter ensued. The train police officer, smiling, listened to the plump woman's seemingly coquettish yet impassioned words, nodding frequently. He seemed to need no content, only to perform a process, a prelude to taking the resister away.

"What's in your luggage? Why are you afraid to move it? For everyone's safety, please take your luggage to the reception room." He finished speaking, staring at the two men and one woman with a sly grin.

"This train police officer is a smiling tiger! He'll definitely trick us into going to the reception room and give us a good beating!" Du Mo said, wiping the sweat from his brow. The cabin's capacity was evident; so many people crammed into a small space were like steamed buns in a steamer.

Du Mo was a pirate, spending his days on small submarines, diving and swimming hundreds of meters underwater—a life indeed monotonous and dull. But now the environment had changed; the scenery before him was no longer mountains, but water and trees. We were like fish, scooped from one fish tank into another, sinking in without any cushioning.

We entered a class characterized by empty clamor and self-deceptive resilience. Their language was far more avant-garde than their actions, and their courage far more cowardly than their tone.

Perhaps, even on their deathbed, they would never understand life, which destined them to be irrelevant wherever they went. Anger is born of cowardice and dies of cowardice; this group is the best proof of that.

Unlike Dumo, I was once a killing machine, manipulated at will by those so-called big shots like a toilet button. When I broke free from ignorance, no longer taking the clowns of despicable humanity as my way out, allowing them to override my personality; no longer bowing to the reality that forced me to associate with garbage, I discovered how powerful I truly was.

Now, I am a true killer, a true killer awarded the medal of justice by God, in exchange for God's love and to protect my own freedom.

Dumo was unaware that the excitement of suddenly entering a new social class was like a giant falling into a land of Lilliputians. You could casually demolish their houses, plunder their wealth and women, and their anger and resistance would only elicit laughter.

Fortunately, with my prompting, Dumo gradually adapted to the environment and adjusted his mindset. The suffocating heat and humidity grew increasingly intense; the cries of children sent chills down one's spine, and even the soft, sweet nipples of women couldn't silence their wailing.

Many men, unable to bear the heat, casually removed their shoes and socks, releasing waves of stench. Their eyes darted around, glancing sideways at the exposed breasts of women breastfeeding; the heat and staleness seemed to provide them with ample justification—not only could they remove their shoes, but their lewd gazes also felt perfectly justified.

As I closed my eyes to rest, a small particle was suddenly shoved into my palm. My eyes snapped open, and I saw a seven or eight-year-old boy, his bottom sticking out, trying to squeeze into the crowd, while a group of adult men shouted and cursed at him.

Dumo's dark forehead was covered in sweat. He leaned against the cabin wall, his mouth half-open, snoring as if he were in a dream, seeking vast space and fresh air. The passengers around him, like sick poultry, all slumped over, their eyelids half-closed.

I tucked my thumb into my palm and slowly unfolded the small pellet. Just as I was about to look down for a closer look, I suddenly looked up and scanned my surroundings, trying to catch any eyes peeking at me. But the atmosphere remained oppressive, completely packed.

I then unfolded the pellet again. A toothpick-sized note lay beneath my clenched hand. I stared at the words on it, and my heart skipped a beat.

Without thinking, I crushed the note, rolled it into countless small balls, and, feigning boredom, flicked them in different directions into the dense mass of legs around me.

Xuan Ya was also among the passengers, because the note clearly read: "The Child Lover has arrived, and is on the same boat as you." No one else would say such a thing.

It seems that Jason Jody's first assassin on the Sea Demon was me, and the second assassin was indeed one of the eight great generals. Dumo was still fast asleep, while the sweat on my forehead already surpassed his.

Seeing the words "Prisoner of Children" felt like reading my own name on a death list.

Chapter 243: The Forest of Desire in the Eyes

The large ship floated on the sea, and I could feel the propellers churning the water, carrying us towards Madagascar. The passengers in the cabin gradually adapted to the damp, smelly environment, as their senses began to tire and become numb.

Dumo slept even more soundly, white foam appearing at the edges of his thick, dark lips, and drool mixed with sweat trickling down his neck. I remained crouched in the corner of the cabin, using feigned sleep to carefully observe every passenger within sight.

Among these people of various skin colors, some women wore black veils, and their religious beliefs and regional customs were easily discernible from their clothing. Even many men still wore baggy robes, their bodies wrapped up like mummies, with almost no other parts visible except for their slender eyes and hands.

Mauritius is a place where people of different races and religions mingle, and even if Dumo and I dressed in a similar style, once we entered this environment, we would be like our large wooden crates, blending into the crowd and going unnoticed.

In Asian regions where skin color and religion are relatively homogeneous, we would probably attract a lot of attention, but not here. That's why it's difficult to even see the Crow among the crowded passengers, let alone identify him.

I knew very well that even if the Child Lover was among the crowd, killing him here was practically impossible. The opponent was no ordinary person; I couldn't kill him in one move without causing a disturbance.

Moreover, if we fought him, not only would the train police report to Madagascar customs, but Dumo and the Child Lover's escort would also report to Jason Jodi. My plan to work with the Crow would be exposed, and it would also endanger Luya and the others.

Around 9 PM, the ferry entered Antongir Bay. Half an hour later, the loudspeaker in the cabin blared, reminding all passengers to prepare to disembark, as the ferry would be docking at the Masoura Peninsula. Dumo and I dragged our heavy wooden crates, slowly making our way through the crowded and noisy throng.

Once on deck, the fresh, cool air was invigorating, and countless twinkling stars hung in the tranquil night sky. The crowd began to stir, deep breaths rising and falling everywhere. Laughter and chatter seemed suppressed by weariness; no one could express themselves freely.

“After deducting the cost of hiring a carriage and boat tickets, I still have some money left in my pocket. How about we find a small inn, take a hot bath, and get a good rest for the night? Look! How bustling this place is, how beautiful the night view is! I love city neon lights,”

Dumo said excitedly. I surveyed the tall buildings before me, their colorful lights flashing, displaying brand names and various shop signs. Cars sped along the streets at night.

The scene before me stirred a feeling in my heart. The glitz and glamour of the city had been isolated from me for many years. Now, seeing it again stirred a sense of excitement, but also stirred up some heavy memories.

“Alright, let’s walk along this street and check into a suitable inn.” With that, I pulled my wooden crate and ran forward.

"Welcome to Madagascar! Sir, do you need to stay? Do you need a beautiful girl?" Several middle-aged women of different skin colors stood like roadside signs, spaced twenty or thirty meters apart. Holding up posters, they waved and greeted us before Dumo and I even approached, showing us pictures of the hotel and attractive girls.

Dumo craned his neck, his eyes wide as he scanned the posters. Finally, we chose a hotel and followed a middle-aged woman with yellow skin, dragging our large wooden suitcase. After walking along the brightly lit street for a while, we turned into an alley. The cobblestone path was clean. Following a set of stone steps, we entered the hotel.

A long corridor, filled with an ethereal red glow, held twenty or thirty girls of various skin colors—black, yellow, white—with their bare legs crossed, craning their necks to apply makeup.

Their clothes were revealing and sexy, super-short hot skirts and shorts that looked like mosquito nets, vaguely yet clearly showing the tiny bras and thongs clinging to their bodies.

Dumo looked at these girls with surprise and curiosity. Of course, there were also a few older women mixed in with the group, perhaps catering to certain customers with unusual tastes.

"Hey! Sir, 10,000 Ariya per time, you can choose any of these girls, or double the price for an extra one. I guarantee you'll enjoy a novel kind of pleasure, hehehe..." The woman sitting at the far end of the row of worn-out sofas, perhaps a supervisor, spoke with a flirtatious expression, feigning enthusiasm.

Dumo booked a standard room, and the receptionist, following Dumo's instructions, selected a clean and quiet room for me. Soon, we went up the carpeted, blue-gray staircase to room 302.

I closed the door and immediately slipped to the side of the curtains, gently pulling them open a crack to peek out the window. I considered the time and safety of jumping out, as well as the possibility of someone climbing up from the outside. Outside, the streetlights still cast a hazy glow, and cars of all colors whizzed past.

Dumo took out the remaining money from his pocket, counted it in his palm, and then, with a hint of disappointment, stuffed it back into his pocket.

"Sigh! What a pity, the rent and deposit have left me with no cash flow." Hearing Dumo's self-sigh, I frowned, guessing what he was implying.

"Mr. Zhui Ma, there are two really beautiful girls in those corridors. For just 20,000 Arias, we can get those two beauties to come in and serve us obediently,"

I replied casually, while checking the small room of less than 20 square meters for hidden cameras. “Yes, exploiting a person's dignity with money is far more benevolent than using guns.”

Dumo was five years younger than me, only twenty-three, and his comical and endearing personality sometimes made him seem like a child.

“Mr. Chase, could you lend me another euro?” Dumo asked shamelessly, trying to hide his embarrassment. I let out a soft sigh, as if I had finally waited for Dumo to confess.

He sat on the clean white bed, looking at me expectantly. I walked closer and examined the fine scars on Dumo's face. Perhaps in his value system, life was still a gamble. Pirates, after all, had humanity; they too lived in fear, unable to predict when they would die by gunfire.

“Dumo. Listen to this, those women sitting in the corridors, serving hundreds or thousands of clients a year, they are a high-risk group for HIV and infectious diseases. If I only give you a euro, would you pull the trigger of a revolver loaded with a live bullet to your head?”

After hearing my words, Dumo immediately licked his lips twice, looking at me blankly. Dumo was born in Burundi and grew up in an environment of hunger, poverty, and war. After joining the pirates, his opportunities to set foot on the mainland were even fewer.

Obviously, Dumo was good at naval warfare and mountain warfare, but in the neon-lit, desire-driven concrete jungle, he was completely unable to master the rules of survival.

Chapter 244: Accomplices outside the hotel

“Mr. Chase Horse, don’t you still have a box of condoms?” Dumo’s words did not surprise me. There was indeed a box of brand-name condoms in the package that Hanging Crow threw out of the abandoned factory, and Dumo had also seen it when I was packing my bags in the cave, but he was only asking about it now with veiled implications.

“Condoms are used to protect sniper rifles from water. That masked killer with the ponytail only had two on him before he died. I sneaked into his bedroom at the factory on a rainy night and saw a lot of good stuff, but we're not thieves. We have to take what we need most, what can save our lives.” Dumo smiled slightly after hearing this.

“Mr. Chase, do you know? We've completed the first step of the mission.” Dumo's words immediately made me realize that Jason Jody had asked me and Dumo to go to Mauritius while also eliminating the Raven to cover our tracks.

“Dumo, if you have sex with a woman infected with the virus, even with condoms, the chances of infection will be greatly increased. It's like a fool wearing a bulletproof vest and blindly running into a hail of bullets. You need to know that no one in the world cares about your regret or death except yourself.”

Dumo stopped talking after hearing this. He had gone through all this trouble just to ask about the origin of that box of condoms. I kept emphasizing sex education to him to cover up my own feelings. However, if Dumo could heed my advice tonight, he would benefit from it for the rest of his life.

And I, too, felt that since rescuing Dumo from the mercenaries of the Selmo, he had toned down his previous forced hypocrisy towards me.

"Hide the wooden box under the bed. I'll go to the nearby supermarket to buy some ordinary clothes, otherwise it'll be too conspicuous to walk around in the daytime. Also, don't lie naked on the bed after showering. Heaven knows if these sheets, stained with the secretions of clients and prostitutes, have been disinfected."

Dumo chuckled sheepishly after hearing my words. "If Mr. Chasing Horse weren't a top-notch assassin, ordinary people would definitely assume you have obsessive-compulsive disorder, satisfying their pathetic smugness."

I didn't speak, listened to the noise outside the door, and pulled open the door to walk outside. The girls in the corridor, seeing me brush past them, all sized me up with burning eyes. I knew very well that these were hunters' eyes; they saw me as prey, prey that could bring them pleasure and climax and then pay them.

Of course, in God's laws, women are not allowed to defile their maternal organs, nor are they allowed to defile the souls bestowed by the Virgin Mary. Those who disregard these laws will be met with the devil's virus and the contempt of humanity.

Stepping out of the neon-lit, dimly lit alley, a slight breeze swept by, yet it couldn't dispel the strong scent of perfume emanating from them. Those girls who make a living through prostitution, lost in vulgarity yet yearning for elegance, are like trout in a concrete jungle, swimming against the current of desire.

It's around eleven o'clock at night, and I'm walking along the streets where colors shift and change, looking for a night market near the docks. A guy in a hoodie suddenly walked around to the front of me, his hands in his pockets and his head tucked into his hoodie.

"Hey, big guy, how was your sea voyage? Love Prisoner and his caretaker have checked into the Beirut Hotel. Give this packet to the black caretaker; it'll keep him asleep until tomorrow afternoon."

With that, the hoodie slowed his pace. I knew he was Xuan Ya, so I quickly caught up and passed him. In that instant, like a master thief, he slipped a packet of white powder into my pocket.

I continued walking, leaving him far behind. Ahead, a brightly lit night market appeared. Through the glass window, I could see the outer shelves overflowing with a dazzling array of food.

If Luya and Yiliang could come in here, those two innocent girls pushing shopping carts, freely choosing their favorite items, who knows how happy they would be.

But reality separated us—I was in Madagascar on the east coast of Africa, they were on a pirate ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean. They constantly tugged at my heartstrings. I looked up at the fading stars; at least we were under the same night sky.

The supermarket had smooth white porcelain floors, and the bright, comfortable incandescent ceiling lights filled the air. The aromas of various foods mingled and permeated the space, and many gleaming mirrors shimmered in the breeze. This feeling evoked a faint sense of nostalgia, and the vicissitudes of memory began to settle.

I chose a large-sized bra for Dumo and bought two sets of sportswear (brand unknown), one of which had to be oversized to fit Dumo perfectly. The sportswear I chose all had hoods, to cover my face if necessary.

I also bought some bread, cured meat, juice… and paid 20,000 Ariya at checkout. On the way back to the hotel, seeing that there were no pedestrians around, I took out the medicine kit given to me by Xuan Ya, which contained a disposable syringe.

I poured out a bottle of mineral water, leaving only a little water, and shook it with the powder. Using the syringe, I injected the medicine from behind the beverage label. I broke the used tools into pieces and threw them into different trash cans.

When I returned to the corridor, only four or five girls were sitting on the sofa; the rest were probably upstairs, having passionate sex with their clients.

Carrying my purchases, I walked towards the stairwell with my head down. As I passed the girls, they gave me a shout, then lifted their legs, revealing their sapphire-colored private parts, and giggled happily.

They were seducing me while simultaneously humiliating me, mocking me for having money for food but not for women's bodies, ridiculing me as a coward or impotent.

Their bodies possessed the organs to bring men pleasure and nurture life, but those organs were ultimately hijacked by their owners to stimulate God.

I pretended not to see them, continuing to walk with my head down. Let them think I'm impotent, as long as they don't cause me trouble or force me to act, as long as they don't interfere with my plan to save women. Let them laugh.

When Dumo saw me return, he quickly took the shopping bag. He first pulled out a sausage and bit into it in a few bites, as if trying to use his current appetite to counteract the surging lust within him.

"Wow, wow! Unbelievable! They actually bought me a sweatshirt, you know? I love wearing these things, but that bastard Jason Jody insists we wear his military uniforms all year round. Now, he can't control me, hehehe, hehehe!"

After exclaiming in surprise, Dumo hurriedly put his greasy fingers in his mouth to clean them before trying on the new light blue sweatshirt.

Dinner was enjoyable. Dumo swelled his cheeks, stuffed with food, while tilting his head back and gulping down juice. When I came out after showering, he was already wearing those oversized shorts and sprawled on the small bed, fast asleep. I replaced the beverage bottle with the one with the pinhole on the back of the label with a perfectly good one.

I walked to the curtains and peeked out again. Looking at the clock, it was almost dawn. The Crow should be at the designated location, waiting for me to arrive so we could take down the Child Lover together.

Chapter 245: Meat from the Beirut Hotel

. I dragged the wooden crate from under my bed, opened the lid, and quickly assembled my sniper rifle. I changed into my new sweatshirt, slung the long gun sling over my shoulder, and carefully climbed down from the third-floor window of the hotel.

As my feet touched the ground, all the windows facing the street were drawn with heavy curtains. The shadows cast on them swayed back and forth; patrons and prostitutes were hiding in the prison of night, exploiting each other's desires.

The streetlights on both sides of the road dimmed considerably, as if they too had begun to drift into slumber. Occasionally, cars sped past, fleeing for their lives, their destination unknown.

I pulled the sweatshirt hood over my head, shrugged, and adjusted my back to make the rifle sling and canvas bag more comfortable. Looking around and seeing no one, I lowered my head and crouched into the darkness, running faster and faster along the walls of the closed shops.

A salty, damp wind blew in from the sea, swirling and scattering scraps of paper and plastic bags along the roadside. Some bumped against trash cans or lampposts, lingering for only a few seconds before drifting aimlessly elsewhere.

It was about to rain. I pulled my jacket zipper up and continued running towards the location of the crow. The Beirut Hotel was one of the tallest buildings in this seaside city. Opposite it was a seaside hill, and the crow was waiting for me at its highest point.

I tried to run along the darkest routes, avoiding every intersection with traffic lights, lest those rigid electronic cameras capture a suspect running around with a gun in the dead of night.

Fine rain began to fall. The dust stirred up by the sea breeze, shimmering in the lamplight, was invisible to the naked eye, but my nostrils gradually filled with the mingled scent of water and soil.

Crossing a mountain road and running up the hillside, by the time I reached the highest point, a gentle, fine rain had already moistened the city.

"Look! How beautiful the city is now, no noise, only time and desire remain." Raven emerged from behind a nearby rock, still veiled, his head tucked into his hood.

"Whoosh, whoosh..." At the foot of the mountain behind us, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks echoed, and the wind blowing up the mountain carried a touch of coolness. The Beirut Hotel, standing amidst the city's buildings, was now at the same height as the hill I was standing on.

The difference was that its rooftop had a huge illuminated billboard, while on the dark hilltop stood two snipers. Now, we were to fire at it.

"45 degrees down, eleventh window from the left, wind direction 15, humidity 20%, distance to target 815 meters..."

Raven lay beside me, holding binoculars in his hands, an identical Barrett sniper rifle held upright between his arms.

We were originally going to fire simultaneously, taking out the child lover and the pirate together to prevent one from scare the other away. But visibility wasn't great in the rainy night, so he had to temporarily act as my sniper assistant.

"See that window?" Raven asked, lowering his binoculars.

"Yes." I answered, my eyes pressed tightly against the scope, adjusting to the brightness and distance.

"The child lover is staying inside with a red-skinned Mexican." Raven continued, slipping his right hand into his inner breast pocket.

"A blue floor-length curtain, completely blocking the windowpane. Luck hasn't told me how many shots I'll need to hit the target's head." I described everything I saw through the scope, waiting for Raven to confirm with silence that he was targeting the same person.

"One shot will do." He then pulled out a black (brand unknown) phone and redialed. Thirty seconds later, a voice came from the other end of the phone: "Mr. Hippo, ready."

"This is Green Bamboo, action!" Raven and the person on the phone exchanged a brief code, and with his final command, the long curtains of the window targeted by the sniper rifle suddenly plummeted.

Simultaneously, a spark flew from the sniper rifle's muzzle, protruding into the darkness. "Whoosh!" A crimson bullet, like a shooting star, pierced through the fine rain. The sharp whistling sound and the bullet's speed intertwined to create a dazzling trajectory, heading straight for the window from which the curtains had suddenly fallen.

Love Prisoner was a top-tier expert. His room, located on the seventeenth floor, had the curtains drawn so tightly—not out of shyness about being seen, but out of the assassin's instinctive vigilance, wary of a sniper shot from outside.

Although he knew he was still separated from the battlefield by a vast ocean, and his enemy was thousands of miles away, he still, in the instant the curtains fell, with lightning speed, grabbed the woman's hair beneath him, used his naked body to cover himself, rolled off the bed, and lay flat on the floor.

But the pirate traveling with him, with disheveled hair, was kneeling on the bed, his hands gripping the plump buttocks of a hotel prostitute, thrusting into her relentlessly.

The rapidly flying bullet, before leaving the barrel, intended to hit the tattooed, white-skinned, bald man, but his awareness and reaction speed were extraordinary; I couldn't catch him in time, so I slightly shifted my T-shaped aim to the left.

The relatively unvigilant pirate, focused only on brute force, instantly made his temple, facing the glass window, a target for the bullet.

In the instant the massive glass window shattered, the pirate on his escort duty, as if casually flicking a strand of hair over his eye, tossed his head to the right, his entire skull, like a coin flicked by a thumb, scattering amidst the splattering blood towards the room door.

The hotel's pristine white sheets, and the prostitute's plump, inviting buttocks, were instantly covered in crimson bloodstains, creamy white brain matter, and a dense mass of scalp and bone fragments clung to her hair.

The excited hotel prostitute, turning her head to see the scene behind her, instantly widened her eyes in terror and let out a piercing scream. She violently shook her buttocks, breaking free from the pirate's deadly grip on her round buttocks, and leaped off the bed like a madwoman, running towards the room door. The sticky filth splattered on her buttocks slid down her thighs, and a limp condom still clung to her thick gluteal cleft, swaying like a small tail.

But as her naked, rushing body brushed past the second bed, a bloody hole appeared on her beautifully curved, white back. The child lover, lying on the floor, silenced her commotion with a silenced pistol.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh." I fired three bullets in quick succession, hoping to kill the hiding child lover through the wooden bed frame. "

We've alerted him; the child lover seems to have crawled into the bathroom along the floor." As soon as Xuan Ya finished speaking, the sniper rifle he held upright under his chest rang out with a bang, firing a bullet.

Inside the guest room, the hotel prostitute, dragged off the bed by the child lover's hair, was in tears. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to suppress a scream, while being forced, trembling, to hang the curtains.

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