Humanity Forbidden Island [Full Text] - 16

Chapter 220: Bloodstained Wrist on the Barbed

"Clatter, clatter..." The vibrations of the barbed wire grew increasingly violent. The ferocious mercenary, seeing Dumo and the girl leap over the barbed wire fence, was enraged. He fixed his hateful gaze on me and charged forward with earth-shaking force.

"Clang, clang, clang." Rapid close-quarters combat sparked, and the hand gripping the dagger felt intensely numb. His thick, powerful arm, aided by the crescent-shaped blade of his broadsword, could unleash astonishing explosive power. My dagger could only parry, buying time for my body to dodge.

"Swish, swish, swish." This guy, like a hairy-faced monkey clinging to the fence, his scarred face hidden behind an iron mask, gnashed his teeth at me with hatred, as if I were the enemy who had burned his face.

This man's attacks were ruthless and cruel. His sharp broadsword, deflected by the dagger, was used to sweep across my fingers, which were caught in the mesh of the wire mesh. Luckily, my right leg was hanging high on the top of the wall, like a pendulum, controlling my center of gravity, allowing me to quickly release my grip and dodge. Otherwise, my left hand's five fingers would have been instantly severed, scattering from the high iron mesh wall into the withered yellow grass on the ground, impossible to retrieve, let alone piece back together.

The mercenary, a Sael, clung to the wire mesh below me, swaying from side to side, searching for an opening to attack. The sun was scorching, and the long, colorful mane on his bumpy iron mask shimmered, like a demon's whiskers. This attire would increase an opponent's fear, making them feel as if they were fighting a monster.

His constantly swaying upper body, like a rooster pecking at a centipede, was actively seeking an opportunity to strike, trying to slice off several kilograms of my flesh and bones in one blow. I knew very well that this guy was a formidable opponent; his agility was evident in his movements and techniques.

"Hey! I found a pistol under the tree, and it's still loaded. Let me shoot this old bastard!" Du Mo shouted, trying to sound cheerful, through the wire mesh at the base of the outer wall.

"Bang, bang." Du Mo's mouth was cracked from the thugs' shoes, so his imitation of shooting a pistol was terrible, but the stones he threw did have a slight effect on the wire mesh.

The Selmo mercenary was shrewd; he knew the black man was acting, trying to help him fight the enemy. If Du Mo really found a live pistol, he would have shot him silently and stealthily. Only a fool would shout in front of a target, unless it was just to scare him. But Du Mo, beaten half to death, wouldn't be so merciful as to scare a cold-blooded Selmo mercenary.

"Hey, hey, hey..." The girl in distress also climbed down the locust tree, picked up some stones, and joined Du Mo in throwing them at the Selmo mercenary inside the wire mesh.

I wasn't sure how this guy had discovered we were trying to escape the factory. The fact that we hadn't seen any other factory workers meant he wanted to take all three of us down by himself. If he had summoned a horde of henchmen to surround us, this Selmo mercenary would have been nothing more than one of the rabble.

The stones thrown at us were like a woman's playful punches landing on a man's solid chest—a dizzying spectacle, but utterly painless. The Selmo mercenary beneath me remained focused on our fight, ignoring the pointless attacks.

I hooked my right leg firmly onto the top of the wall, pinning him down and preventing him from engaging me at the same height, otherwise my dagger would be at a disadvantage.

"Clang, clang, clang." A shower of sparks fell from the iron netting. Dumo and the girl's stones seemed to have angered him; his sharp broadsword was now swung even more violently.

The enemy's offensive was fierce, so I cautiously defended and dodged. As long as this guy remained enraged, he would eventually expose an opening. The breathing behind the iron mask changed from rough to roaring.

Gradually, I saw the Sael mercenary's fingers, which were digging into the barbed wire mesh, being constantly struck by sharp stones. The stones thrown by Dumo and the girl were hitting their targets more and more accurately.

The sharp broadsword he swung at me became more and more powerful with each swing. His vicious red eyes glared at me like he wanted to devour me, but I only focused on his shoulder, anticipating the direction of his attacks.

Just as this guy swung his broadsword with even greater force, the dagger I gripped in my hand suddenly flicked out, chasing after his wrist as he pulled back to grip the blade. "Whoosh!" The sharp tip of the blade, like a bolt of lightning, slashed towards the outside of his right wrist. The ligaments at the ulna where the veins on the back of his hand and forearm connected made a dull thud.

The mercenary's crimson eyes widened instantly, as if the pain of the cut hadn't even manifested before his brain registered it. I quickly ducked back, waiting for his enraged second attack. "Clang, clang, clang." The guy swiftly swung his broadsword again; in the brief exchange, I could clearly feel his strength had diminished.

My attack had been powerful, and I knew the destructive force of my blows; that cut was truly deep. No matter how strong the mercenary was, flesh and blood couldn't withstand the injury of a wrist severed in half. The opportunity slowly ripened, and I gradually launched an offensive, shifting from a passive defense.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh whoosh." I swung my sharp dagger, letting my body slowly unfold like a soaked cloth, bringing my forelimbs as close to the enemy as possible. At the same time, the sharp dagger relentlessly feinted an attack on the enemy's severely injured wrist.

In reality, I was looking for an opportunity to blind him in one eye. Because his speed was decreasing, he was clearly lagging behind me, and at this moment, as long as I attacked cautiously, my advantage would grow.

Dumo and the girl were already panting heavily, especially Dumo, who was sitting under the iron fence, somewhat unconscious. The girl rushed over to take care of him. I had to buy time and kill this mercenary as quickly as possible.

The masked man, seeing my composure in the face of danger, my deep understanding of combat tactics, and the astonishing speed with which I had slashed him, realized that he had also encountered a formidable opponent and had been too careless with me earlier.

"Clang, clang." Two more clashes of short weapons. Before finding an opportunity to blind him, I deliberately forced him to raise his knife to meet the attack. This way, his bloodied wrist, exposing white bone, would deteriorate more rapidly due to the violent vibrations.

Now, it would be difficult for him to escape. I remained on high ground, pressing him closely. If he dared to turn and jump off the iron fence, or leap back, my dagger would instantly transform into a throwing knife, piercing the Iron-Faced Man's back or chest.

The scorching sun baked the grass and trees inside and outside the factory. We remained locked in a standoff against the barbed wire wall, like two bats locked in a struggle, neither willing to yield an inch.

Chapter 221: The Red-Haired

Selmer Mercenary Beneath the Iron Mask. He feared the passage of time more than I did, for his time was stained with blood. This guy was already below, his fingers hooked onto the barbed wire mesh, requiring extra force to maintain his balance, so blood gushed from his right wrist.

"Clang, clang, clang..." I seized the enemy's weakness and launched a series of attacks. Amidst the feints and real strikes, I suddenly accelerated and changed direction with a straight thrust, my arm springing out without warning, the tip of the dagger aimed straight for his right eye.

With a clang, the sharp dagger tip sliced down from above his brow, sparks flying from the cut iron mask. This guy reacted extremely quickly, also looking for an opportunity, preparing to jump down from the passive barbed wire wall.

As I withdrew my thrusting dagger, the enemy had already taken the opportunity to land, crouching in the withered grass. I wasn't sure if I had cut his eye, but I feared he would escape and attract a large group of factory guards, especially those with guns.

"Clatter." Before the trembling iron net could settle, I immediately released my hooked toes, pushed off with my left leg, and descended from the four-meter-high iron net, my sharp dagger slashing down with the momentum. In fact, this move was a feint, intended to protect myself from attack.

However, the mercenary was cunning; he had reached the ground beforehand, his passive state alleviated, and he wouldn't let go of any opportunity to attack. He came at me head-on, his broadsword intended to slash at my throat. In mid-air, I hurriedly swung my dagger to block, but unexpectedly, the enemy's move was also a feint; he delivered a swift and fierce side kick, heavily striking my chest.

I felt my body suddenly take off, like a magnet suddenly attracted to a wire mesh wall. With a loud bang, my back slammed solidly into the swaying mesh. My vision went black instantly, and my chest tightened.

This guy's kicking power was astonishing. If I had been kicked by his toe, it wouldn't be surprising if I had broken several ribs. No wonder the locals demonized him as a terrifying thug who could kick a water buffalo's belly open.

His legwork was truly formidable. Before I could even catch my breath, he attacked without giving me a chance to breathe. He leaped into the air, switching to his left hand to wield the knife, and slashed at my chest.

The heavy kick made it hard for me to catch my breath. If I were to suffer another leg attack, I would probably lose my fighting ability and be at his mercy.

"Clang, whoosh, whoosh." Another feint. He swung his broadsword, intending to restrain the dagger, but the fierce knee strike was the real attack. The hundreds-of-meters-long iron fence swayed precariously under his knee, seemingly about to collapse.

Because I was extra wary of his legs, I pressed my body against the fence and quickly rolled away, dodging the deadly blow. Although his right wrist was half-crippled, once back on the ground, his leg attacks flowed with incredible power.

"Thwack! Thwack!" Before I could even catch my breath, the mercenary launched two more high-flying kicks, relentless and vicious. I was powerless to retaliate, but I had to fight back with all my might, endure the darkness, and dodge every swift attack. However, this guy also recognized his advantage, unleashing a barrage of kicks, high and low, unpredictable, like a surging tide crashing down on me.

"Mr. Chase Horse, watch out for his boots, they conceal sharp blades!" Du Mo shouted urgently and weakly from under a tree outside. The warning was crucial and timely; the mercenary's kicks were like a flurry of blows, leaving me no time to defend. I gritted my teeth, gripping my dagger tightly, determined not to drop my only weapon.

To avoid attracting attention, I swiftly slipped behind a chemical tank, circling him in a stalemate. I deliberately feigned severe injuries, luring him into relentless pursuit, hoping he would abandon his escape or call for accomplices. The pent-up anger in my chest dissipated with each rapid run, and my inner energy began to surge back into attack mode.

The guy's leg struck the metal tank, sending rust flying. After circling the chemical tank a few times, I spotted a tangled clump of scrap wire in a pile of grass. Just as he raised his leg for another side kick, I caught the wire with my toe and launched a sudden kick towards his face.

The mercenary, seeing the object fly up from the grass, aimed directly at his face, quickly retracted his raised side kick, bending his forearm to protect his cheek. I seized the opportunity, leaping forward as if in a fencing attack, and delivered a side kick to his abdomen, my military boot moving faster than the tangled wire.

With a muffled thud, the mercenary fell to the ground, sliding four meters along the withered grass. I took another large step, leaping into the air and raising my leg to strike, intending to smash the back of his head with my heel.

This man, with his keen hearing, heard my high-flying kick and quickly rolled to the side, dodging the attack while simultaneously sweeping my lower body with his leg. I leaped away swiftly, and several blades of grass fell like scythes. A

three-centimeter-long, incredibly sharp blade protruded from the top of this guy's boot. His heels, with a simple twist on the ground, would unleash a sharp blade—a technique he could control with ease, killing silently.

In death combat, there are no dirty tricks or obvious moves; as long as it's effective and kills the enemy, anyone who doesn't want to commit suicide or be killed will use it without hesitation, regardless of worldly hypocrisy.

As the mercenary, Selmo, rolled to his feet, I finally had a chance to see his face clearly: a rough, uneven iron mask, with a slanted groove cut into the metal above his right eye. No wonder he attacked me so fiercely after landing, his moves becoming increasingly aggressive, almost to the point of mutual destruction.

His cornea had been lightly grazed by the tip of a dagger; now, his entire eye was bloodshot and blurry, meaning his field of vision was gradually shrinking. At this point, he probably only had one eye left to fight me.

Now, with his right hand and right eye nearly crippled, I met his gaze with a half-smile. His barely perceptible glances around subsided slightly. I knew he was trying to escape; he had heard Dumo's shouts and realized I was the only wanted fugitive mercenary in Southeast Asia, which made him uneasy.

This guy was indeed fierce, but he also felt fear. I remained expressionless, neither growling nor angry; behind my peaceful gaze, seemingly gentle as water, I had left him with both hands and eyes crippled.

He finally understood that the enemies who had stormed the factory were no longer the pirates and low-ranking mercenaries of the past; he had encountered a Rohan. "You, you're Chase Horse? I should have shot you dead." The mercenary's voice was hoarse, as if he were being choked. It seemed the incendiary bombs in the air raid had not only burned his face but also severely damaged his vocal cords.

"Too late." My chapped lips parted slightly, my tone as indifferent as a spider's thread. I had no choice but to kill him, but this helplessness was inexplicable. If I told him I was waiting to rescue someone and demanded his two sniper rifles, he wouldn't believe me; instead, he would seize the opportunity to attack me.

Chapter 222: The Blade in Language
"I was hired by pirates, passing through this area. I'm not targeting your factory. Let me take my black friend away, and the fighting will stop," I said in a low voice.

"Hmph, nonsense. You might believe anyone else, but you, Chasing Horse, are skilled in psychological warfare. Not only are your methods ruthless, but you never leave anyone alive. No enemy you've dealt with has ever left alive, just like this factory treats strangers who intrude."

The mercenary, Selmo, said coldly. He saw through my intentions; I did indeed want to take advantage of the lull in our compromise and conversation to kill him unexpectedly. But his words also made me realize the power of public opinion.

"I just want to live, to be governed by my own will. You and I are different. You kill indiscriminately out of hatred; in the end, you're nothing more than a cheap tool."

"Hahaha, laughable, laughable." The mercenary's laughter was more like a venting of grief before a breakdown. He was in great pain; I had touched a raw nerve. “Everyone is guilty. Kill them all, and there will be no hatred in the world.”

“You can’t even withstand a single bullet, so why deceive yourself and act so arrogantly? You want others to share your pain, to make innocent people suffer, to avenge God’s injustice against you. But you’ve forgotten one thing: the Creator gave you hands not to be shackled. Though your shoulders are strong, they cannot bear the slightest weight of justice. If justice were a goddess, a single hair of hers would be enough to enslave you.”

Before I finished speaking, the mercenary, Sael, was startled. His tremor came from his very soul, imperceptible to anyone but the two of us speaking.

My toe once again jabbed at something in the grass. I saw him lost in thought, his expression slightly dazed. Suddenly, I kicked up a greasy burlap sack. He jumped back quickly to avoid it, but because he had lost sight in his right eye, his movements were much slower.

“With your reaction speed, you can’t continue fighting. I’ve already said, let me take the black man away, and you give up the fight.” He was quite frightened, and I deliberately provoked him to become tense, weakening his will to resist.

“Give up the fight? Do you think this factory is a welfare center? You’ve ruined my right hand, and you’ve blinded my right eye. You might as well kill me and leave me with some dignity!”

His words were full of tragic grandeur, but I had to be wary. The enemy might be putting on an act, deliberately stalling for time, causing other factory workers to swarm in, or more simply, a sniper bullet might suddenly fire from somewhere and kill me.

“Get out of my way, I’m going to climb over the wall and leave with the black man.” After saying that, I resolutely walked past him. My peripheral vision didn’t leave the mercenary, and when I reached his right side, which was exactly where his right eye was blind, the dagger in my hand lashed out like a scorpion’s tail, stabbing fiercely at the right side of his neck. Before he could even fully straighten his body as he tried to twist, the blade was already embedded in his flesh. I twisted my wrist, instantly severing the thickest muscle beneath his neck.

"Ah! Ahhh..." With a hoarse scream, I leaped back, and at the same time, the gleaming broadsword grazed the edge of my right cheek. Luckily, he was swinging the blade with his left hand, which slowed him down considerably; otherwise, that blow would have severed my head. It turned out this guy was also planning to ambush me.

I gently touched my cheek; a faint pool of blood stained my fingers, but compared to the other person, it was merely a superficial wound. The factory air was highly corrosive, and the burning pain returned, truly unbearable.

"Something's wrong! Someone's broken into the factory..." A sleazy man, bare-chested and leading two hyenas, emerged from the underground passage. He shouted, releasing the leashes from his grip.

"Woo-woo, woo-woo, woo-woo..." He laboriously cranked a low, hand-cranked alarm. The two fat, fierce spotted hyenas, the brown hyenas Dumo had described before, leaped and bounded through the undergrowth, charging towards me.

With the sniper rifle gone, my only option was to escape. I bit my bloodied dagger and scrambled up the wire mesh fence, yelling, "Run! Help Dumo up and run!"

The girl's eyes widened in terror. She quickly mustered all her strength to lift the burly Dumo and help him to his feet to escape. Just as I lifted one leg to climb over the top of the fence, two ferocious hyenas pounced on the wire mesh, nearly biting my Achilles tendon.

Ignoring the pain, I leaped into the canopy of a locust tree, landing on the branch. I didn't even notice how many splinters were stuck in my hands. I grabbed Dumo's arm and helped him run towards the deep, verdant bamboo forest. Because the enemy had guns, we had to use the green cover to maneuver into the hilly area.

"Hold on tight to my belt. No matter how fast I run, you have to keep up. They have hyenas; those things catch us much faster than bullets," I solemnly warned the girl. We couldn't get lost, or we'd be torn to pieces by the hyenas.

The girl's fear intensified, and she tightened her grip on my lower back. "Blow up the barbed wire! Release the hyenas to chase and bite them!" Not far behind, countless factory workers roared in exasperation, the clamor sounding as if the factory was on fire, their cries of agony echoing through the air.

Chapter 223: The Deadly Sniff Beneath the Hill Passing

through the lush bamboo forest, the three of us reached the foot of the hill. The girl's neck and fair forehead were marked with red welts from the bamboo leaves. She gasped for breath, releasing her exhaustion and fear.

"Boom, boom boom." From the other end of the bamboo forest came the sound of explosions as the factory's barbed wire fence crumbled. If the enemy kept many brown hyenas, we wouldn't even need the armed factory workers to arrive before being torn to pieces by the beasts.

"I... I can't run! There's a pit filled with fallen leaves; we can bury ourselves in it!" The girl clutched her stomach, her face contorted and pale. Her heart rate was indeed near its limit, and her nausea suggested she was pregnant.

“No, the hyenas will grab you by the neck and drag you out to gnaw your bones. Besides, we're already covered in blood.” I looked around, racking my brains. In this life-or-death situation, I had to devise the most advantageous escape plan in the shortest amount of time.

“Don’t go any higher. There might be snipers among those factory workers. We’ll skim through the cracks in the mountainside on the left flank. When the hyenas reach our feet, we’ll climb up. There are many large boulders stuck in the crevices that can also stop bullets.”

After explaining the plan, I grabbed the girl who was almost exhausted and said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “You’re small, so lead the way. Charge forward quickly and boldly, don’t look back, and show us the escape route. If you’re still so weak, I’ll kill you with one blow and leave a corpse to hold off the hyenas.”

I said fiercely. The girl turned pale with fright. She didn’t know that the enemy had already released hyenas and were chasing after us with guns. If she still clung to my waist and followed my tail, she would be like a gecko’s tail, easily becoming a victim.

"Run! Otherwise, the hyena will bite your butt off. He's protecting you, taking bullets for you." Dumo, weak and feeble, managed to squeeze out words to comfort the terrified girl.

"Okay, I'll run, you guys keep up." The girl seemed to have been given a mission; her willpower instantly channeled her energy. Because of her kindness, she was wise, understanding that her speed and the correctness of her route were crucial to our lives. The girl was grateful to me, so she would unleash her potential again to cross this perilous path.

Before us stretched rolling hills, resembling several potatoes sprouting green shoots, huddled together. I carried Dumo on one arm, keeping pace with the frantically running girl.

The mountain crevice narrowed as we went deeper. The girl's disheveled hair was frequently caught on sprawling saplings, but she dared not delay, grabbing her hair and ripping it out, continuing to run forward.

"It's too narrow ahead, blocking our way," the girl said anxiously, turning back. I looked up and saw that even climbing a little higher, my chest couldn't squeeze through the crevice. At the narrowest point, like veins bulging in a cracked rock wall, the narrow passage, barely wider than a shoulder's width, shortened by more than half.

There was no way back. The brown hyenas must have chased us out of the bamboo forest, each one with its ugly nose twitching, sniffing out the direction we were fleeing. Once the hyenas caught up with us, the armed guards behind us would quickly catch up as well. Dumo, whom I was supporting, grew heavier and heavier, his consciousness waning. I quickly moved closer to the girl.

"Hold Dumo steady, let me handle this." With that, I quickly squatted down, digging at the bottom of the narrow passage with both hands. Before we entered, I had observed the shape of this mountain crevice; it was shaped like an "8," widening towards the bottom, and the weathered pebbles from the hilltop had already filled more than half of the passage.

"Clatter, clatter, clatter..." The splinters in my palms were still stuck; I had to buy time. A little pain was unbearable, but death would catch up. I arched my back and lifted my hips, digging like a starving dog tearing at a bone, pebbles flying everywhere, like wheat chaff being sprayed from a combine harvester.

Sure enough, the deeper I dug, the wider the pit became, until it grazed my shoulders. "Drill! Don't worry about scraping your skin!" a sharp shout rang out. The girl quickly released Dumo and, like a worm, swayed from side to side as she squeezed her way in, her head and shoulders emerging quickly from the other end.

"Grab Dumo's shoulders and pull him over!" I quickly shoved the exhausted Dumo through, trying to get this fat kodo beast through quickly; if he got stuck, there wouldn't even be time for him to cut him into pieces and clear the way.

The girl lay on her back, pulling Dumo with all her might, and Dumo cooperated, trying to reduce his unnecessary burden. The pebbles could only be thrown backwards, so by the time I was the last one to crawl through, I couldn't clear the pit and stop the pursuing enemies.

The remaining narrow passage wasn't easy, but we no longer cared about scrapes and cuts, charging forward with all our might. "Waaaaah, waaaaah..." More than twenty brown hyenas surged and shoved their way to the entrance of the alley. I quickly turned around to estimate the distance and how long it would take for them to catch up and attack.

"There's a river ahead, and I can't swim." The girl's surprised cry was like a pebble, ripples spreading across her face, the fear slowly expanding. The river was twenty-five meters wide, its source formed by rainwater collected from a basin-shaped hilly area, flowing down its low-lying course.

The rushing water constantly crashed against the pillow-sized pebbles on the bank, creating a chaotic and dazzling white spray. Water irises grew on both sides of the river, tall and dense, threatening to encroach on the river's center.

"Come with me into the river and hide under the water plants on the bank." After saying that, I helped Dumo wade into the water first. The girl hesitated for a moment, but quickly followed. Long water plants, their tips adorned with yellow or white flowers, stretched out. We sank into the cool river water, our sweaty bodies causing our pores to immediately close, a sensation both pleasurable and unsettling.

"Keep your backs close to the riverbank. The water calamus above your heads will act like a thatched roof, sheltering you both. Don't make a sound, and don't try to go ashore. I'll distract the enemy. I'll come back before dark to let you know to come ashore. You must take good care of Dumo, and don't wander off."

Before I could even finish speaking, and before the girl could anxiously nod, my rough hands shoved into her submerged breasts. Two soft, full breasts pressed against my scarred palms. With a slight push, I ripped open her blouse, the buttons falling to the bottom of the river like popping beans.

"Ah! You..." The girl was at a loss, her eyes widening instantly as she stared at me blankly. "Turn around," I commanded, instructing her to obey, but my strong hands had already pressed down on her soft shoulders, forcefully twisting her face away.

The factory worker's uniform she wore was forcibly ripped off, her slender, white arms, like bird wings, rising up to pull out the sleeves. The girl struggled to turn around, her angry glare barely finished before her cleavage, swaying in the water, was pushed back by the clothes I had pulled off, forcing her to press herself against the rock wall below the riverbank.

Chapter 224: The Terrifying Nerves of the Flesh

"Hold on!" The words had barely left my lips when the river submerged my entire face. I leaned forward, inverting myself in the water. The girl's slender legs, lifting her heavy leather boots, kicked wildly at my head and right arm. I impatiently pushed away her kicks, my hands frantically groping underwater like octopus tentacles.

She thought I was going to pull down her pants and rape her standing in the water. When I finally found a small, pillow-sized pebble, I jerked my neck back and quickly and quietly straightened up. A soft splash, and her face, still wet with long hair, resurfaced.

"Here, if you don't want a bullet to shatter your skull, put this on your head." The girl's eyes were panicked, then suddenly stopped moving, as if frozen. She stood there dumbfounded, hesitantly loosening her grip on her breasts, freeing her hands to receive the pebble, which was then placed on the head of her glossy black hair. She let out a soft cry, stretching out half of her two delicate arms to cover her head, clutching the rock as if afraid I would smash it open.

I took a deep breath, then plunged back into the water, finding a large rock to protect Dumo's head as well. Only then did I grab the girl's clothes and rush back to shore, running a hundred meters downstream and throwing the clothes onto the tall water hyacinths to mislead the enemy.

Downstream, in a dense palm grove, those brown hyenas would surely follow the scent of the clothes, leading the enemy downstream. Having alarmed the enemy to this extent, going back to the abandoned factory to retrieve my sniper rifle would likely be my death knell.

But I had to overcome everything, complete the mission Jason Jody had given me, and rescue the woman I loved and the woman who loved me. But judging from the commotion just now, the large number of thugs emerging from the factory's underground workshop must be guilty of their shady dealings being exposed, hence their relentless pursuit, determined to kill and silence me.

The saying "Heaven never seals off all paths" is true. Among the factory guards chasing me, there might very well be a sniper, wielding the very weapon I desperately need. Having crawled out of years of brutal, bloody battlefields, I've faced countless similar helpless situations. I must act; not daring to choose is a dead end.

When a choice is presented, becoming an unavoidable one, a choice with the highest cost and risk, human nature unconsciously exaggerates or amplifies this misfortune. If one doesn't notice this, one's fate is not in control.

On the battlefield after the fighting, I heard many sounds and saw many phenomena that science cannot explain. Perhaps they exist in another dimension.

Another explanation arises from extreme psychological suggestion, like a mirage in the desert. The human body is similar; if we cannot understand the phenomenon of dreams, we might scare ourselves to death.

But then, I saw the mercenary I had just killed, clutching his sharp broadsword, his neck severed, blood streaming from his right eye, sitting by the river waiting for me.

I quickly warned myself that my nervous system was malfunctioning and I needed to adjust immediately. If I went back to stab him, I would only be stabbing the air, wasting time and letting the hyenas and armed factory guards catch up and kill me.

"God, I am the Chaser, Your mercy covers the universe, I need a sniper rifle, I need Your forgiveness, let me grow white feathers, to retrieve your treacherous servant." I prayed silently, but my feet kept running. I couldn't stop, imagining myself running towards a merciful God, to plunge headlong into His protection.

The factory fight, the corrosive toxic fumes, the scorching heat, and the sudden plunge into the water had all irritated my body, causing my brain signals to become disordered again. The soul needs peace; it must have devout faith. God only opens one door to humanity, and that is justice. The mercenary Sael deserved to die; I killed him without guilt. As long as God wasn't angry, I had no fear of evil or wickedness.

I prayed, comforting myself, and my heartbeat slowly calmed down. I've killed countless people; this wasn't the first time I'd experienced this illusion. This torment was cruel, no less than torture.

However, this is only a small part of my suffering, which is why I have become who I am today, the most wanted fugitive mercenary in Southeast Asia.

The difference between people lies in their nature. Some are hypocritical, cowardly, deceitful, and cruel; others are kind, resilient, wise, and compassionate.

Having lived to this day, I can not only remove the splinter from my palm, but also cleanse the dregs of my own humanity. Rather than relying on others, everyone should "cleanse themselves." If those who are relied upon cannot even "cleanse themselves," hypocrisy and corruption will naturally breed and grow.

Contradictions don't need to exist eternally; needs are eternal. Just like a sniper, you won't hold a shield to shoot a spear-wielding enemy a kilometer away. In my muddled mind, I recall the words of the mercenary, Selma, before he died: "You might as well kill me and let me retain some dignity!"

This guy had great skills, but his soul was soaked in a pool of misfortune and sorrow. He was obsessed with his employer's praise and regarded being a tool for evil as dignity, which is no different from a hyena. Why would a hyena eat a carrion's rotting bones? That guy is long dead; he no longer cares about money. I understand mercenaries like that.

He survives on the last bit of filth he has left. If such a killer can be so despicable, how would an ordinary person feel? The answer is simple: they would find psychological balance. The filth of humanity lies in the lack of humility, until people learn false humility. Humility is compassion, non-greed, and upholding justice. Ugly!

I wiped away the tears from the corners of my eyes and sprinted towards the sniper position I had chosen. I had to kill the mercenary, otherwise the entire factory would know of my presence, and assassins from all walks of life would follow me like those hyenas.

Sometimes, they kill me not because they are ordered to, but because of some unfounded subconscious belief that killing the legendary Southeast Asian mercenary, Chasing Horse, will prove their worth. People live not to prove themselves, but to understand self-confidence.

Southeast Asian rulers manipulate their people like matchsticks because of these stains on their humanity, like holes in a bowling ball, easily seized.

The enemy had over twenty hyenas. I couldn't use camouflage to slip behind them; I had to find a way to remove my distinctive scent. Seeing lone snipers, if I couldn't seize the official weapons from the guards, only a few homemade hunting rifles—lacking any accuracy—I had no choice but to bite the bullet and kill the sniper with the dagger on my shoulder. I had no other option.

Chapter 225:
The Raven Emerging from the Water. The enemy hyenas, unlike the leopard adept at climbing, were different. I quickly swam across the stream and circled around to the back of the hills. The higher I climbed, the more wary I had to be of snipers. Ahead, a low palm grove covered the clearing between two hills. I crawled in, concealing myself, before glancing back at the situation.

More than twenty drooling brown hyenas had already chased me to the riverbank. Unable to swim, they howled in desperation, tearing my wet clothes, which I'd left on the cattails, to shreds, which lay scattered under their tangled legs.

"That guy must have escaped to the other side," a lean man carrying a hunting rifle rushed out from a narrow crevice in the hilly terrain. Seeing all the hyenas huddled on the riverbank, craning their necks and howling at me from the palm grove, he quickly and obsequiously shouted to the other guards.

"Bullshit! He's dragging a badly wounded black man along with a little slut; he can't possibly move that fast. You all search along the riverbank; they might be hiding under the thick reeds."

A bald, shirtless man, wielding a broad axe, viciously ordered his men. "Look, there's a piece of clothing here; they dropped it when they escaped," the lean man shouted loudly, hoping the bald man would believe the enemy had indeed crossed the river.

"Damn it, trying to play tricks on me! Brothers, search the riverbank thoroughly. Those three don't have guns, so use your hunting rifles, knives, and axes to strike anything suspicious under the reeds. I don't believe I'll let those three clueless bastards see the sun tomorrow!"

He cursed viciously, then grabbed a nearby factory worker, snatched his hunting rifle, aimed at a dense clump of cattails, and fired. The stray pellets sent the reeds trembling, and several water birds hiding nearby were startled and flew away, disoriented, into the verdant hillside. Their wings flapped loudly, clearly they hadn't had time to adjust their flight before hastily taking off.

"Bang, bang, bang..." In an instant, more than thirty factory guards followed the example of the shirtless bald man, firing wildly at the seemingly suspicious iris bushes. One guy swung his arm, plunging his long machete into the thick water plants; if there were a living person's head hiding underneath, it would instantly split open and kill them.

I raised my right hand, slowly pulling over a palm branch to shield my face, while still clearly seeing the snipers behind the group of factory guards. Those guys, each leading their hyenas, began a thorough search of both sides of the riverbank, starting from the tattered clothes.

The enemy wouldn't find Dumo and the girl's hiding place anytime soon; the river current was fast, and their entire bodies were submerged, barely emitting any scent to attract the hyenas' noses. Even if the enemy fired a shot at the bushes above Dumo and the girl's heads, the hard pebbles would effectively prevent damage from sand and iron pellets.

Using the narrow stretch of palm trees as cover, I quickly climbed the north face of the hill, a process that took five minutes. I wasn't sure if the sniper from the abandoned factory had arrived, so I couldn't peek out rashly. I first lay flat on the slope, pried off three loose pebbles, and piled them around my left foot. If their sniper appeared, I would throw them out to make some noise, both to lure the enemy away from searching the riverbank bushes and to provoke the sniper, encouraging him to swim across the river to chase me.

I then carefully climbed a little higher, observing the opposite bank from behind a crookedly growing ailanthus tree on the hilltop. Those guys were still leading hyenas, slowly spreading out to search left and right, and one group was about to reach Dumo and the girl.

I had to minimize the risk to him and the girl; otherwise, everything I had done so far would have been for nothing. I quickly pulled back, grabbed a pebble, and was about to throw it at the factory workers who were blindly venting their anger on the weeds when a short, thin man with a head full of braids rushed out from the narrow crevice in the mountainside, catching my eye.

He carried a dark red sniper rifle, had a small green canvas bag slung across his shoulder, and was dressed in a camouflage pattern of withered leaves. Despite the sweltering heat, half his face was covered, making him look like a ninja. Clearly, he was also a sniper assassin; perhaps he didn't like camouflage paint, so he used a homemade mask to cover his face below the eyes.

This guy must have replenished his equipment at the abandoned factory, which is why he had only caught up now. He was the final, trump card that "Yama's Factory" had deployed for its ultimate pursuit.

The factory workers with their hyenas became excited upon seeing him and spontaneously surrounded him, like people on the verge of death suddenly seeing a savior.

“Brother Hanging Crow, we’ve searched the riverbank. Judging from the hyenas’ reaction, those three guys should have crossed the river and are hiding behind the hills on the other side.” The bald, shirtless man, head bowed and back hunched, struck a pose like a hyena stealing meat from a lion. These guards were terrified of Hanging Crow, each one meek and submissive, as if awaiting divine judgment.

“How long have you been here? Have you found anything suspicious?” Hanging Crow took two steps forward, shaking off the people blocking his view, and looked back and forth across the hill where I was lying.

“About ten minutes. I was the first to rush out from the alley and saw the hyenas gathered on the riverbank, tearing off a piece of their clothing. The backs of those three guys disappeared into the palm grove on the opposite bank.” The lean man answered enthusiastically, raising his arm and pointing devoutly to the palm grove I had just emerged from.

They spoke loudly, as if deliberately trying to be overheard. “Then why didn’t you rush across the riverbank and continue the chase? Were you searching the grassy bank to catch birds?” Hanging Crow asked jokingly. The lean man quickly interjected, "I wanted to chase after him, but..." He hesitated, glancing at the shirtless bald man.

Xuan Ya remained silent, pondering briefly before snapping his fingers at the bald man, signaling him to approach. The man, like a dog recently whipped and summoned, bowed and scraped forward with a forced smile, his heart filled with dread.

"Iron-Faced Demon is dead. I saw him lying on the grass, clutching his throat in pain, so I used my gun to send him on his way. He was a good friend of mine in life, and now he's in the underworld, he must be lonely on his journey, so..."

Xuan Ya's words trailed off as he grabbed the bald man by the throat. His right hand, flashing from behind, gripped a gleaming razor-sharp knife. Before anyone could react, the bald man's eyes widened, the pain of his disemboweling causing him to shrink and hunch over.

This short man, less than 170 centimeters tall, appeared thin, but his killing speed and strength were beyond expectation. The other factory workers, terrified, hastily stepped back. Their close, huddled together was like a weight thrown into a bowl of dry flour—it bounced up with a thud, then fell helplessly to the ground.

"He killed the Iron-Faced Demon. You know that guy is extremely dangerous, so you didn't dare chase him closely. You pretended to search the weeds. I was tired of your slippery face when I trained you." As he spoke, he plunged the dagger into the bald man's hand, then suddenly twisted it. Blood spurted from the widening wound and dripped into the fist gripping the hilt.

I lay prone on the hilltop, watching with trepidation. That short man was none other than one of the legendary eight assassins: "Nine-Lives Raven." Just from the name, you could imagine how difficult and dangerous it was to kill an opponent with nine lives with only one.

Chapter 226: A Fate Buried Under the Green Leaves

"Alright, everyone go back. Don't tell anyone about this. Just say we've caught the three of them, killed them, and thrown them into the river." Xuan Ya shouted, pulling out a scarlet dagger. He lifted the bald man's throat with his left hand and kicked the corpse away with his right leg.

With a loud "splash," the heavy bald head crashed into the rushing river. Xuan Ya turned his face, gesturing for the lean man to come over. The other factory workers, though trembling with fear, slowly gathered around Xuan Ya. The lean man quickly and reverently stepped forward, knowing he wouldn't suffer the same fate as the bald man.

After a few hushed whispers, Xuan Ya, with his sniper rifle and canvas bag on his head, waded slowly into the river.

The remaining factory workers immediately dispersed, ten of them each leading a hyena, shouting to each other, "Let's go, let's go back! Just say we killed three guys and threw them in the river. If anyone lets it slip, cut out their tongue and feed it to the dogs!" The ten factory workers, dragged by the hyenas, gurgled and ran towards the narrow alleyway, the commotion quickly subsiding.

However, the twenty-odd factory workers carrying hunting rifles remained silently, exchanging sign language and dispersing to lie in ambush near the riverbank.

This was a dirty trick by Xuan Ya; he also suspected someone was under the reeds, and to be on the safe side, he created a false impression. Rather than aimlessly searching the long, lush reed thickets, it was better to lure the enemy out.

Xuan Ya himself, however, brazenly swam across the river and continued the pursuit. The shirtless bald man spoke with a thuggish air; he was the kind of person who used a fierce and ruthless demeanor to demonstrate his worth, but in reality, he was hated by the lean man.

As I disappeared into the palm grove, the lean man didn't see my back. He deliberately exaggerated the facts, intentionally or unintentionally fabricating and embellishing what he saw. It's clear he's adept at seizing opportunities, using today's chance to have the shirtless bald man die at the hands of the Raven. Firstly, to eliminate dissidents; secondly, to ensure no one raises objections.

If some fool were to insist on holding the lean man accountable for his biased statements, it would be tantamount to making trouble for the Raven.

Xuan Ya was well aware of these simple tricks. As one of the legendary eight assassins, he had experienced all sorts of people and events to survive this long. Now, this guy's intelligence far surpassed his killing methods, which was a crucial factor in his survival.

Xuan Ya and I were both assassins. An assassin doesn't necessarily need to be alone to be safe or live a long life; the key is the kind of people who surround them. Those who disregard right and wrong and are adept at flattery are often one's true enemies. The filth in their humanity can spread like a virus. They pave their way with these things, so the fate of those ahead of them is self-evident.

People, especially assassins, most abhor betraying themselves and despise things that gradually put them in a passive position. Every high-level assassin knows that if disaster strikes one day, the root of the problem lies in these very things.

Ordinary people often use ancient rulers as examples, but compared to high-level assassins, their understanding of things is still very superficial. Some assassins commit regicide, and the truth circulating among the people is merely a smokescreen. In later generations, many have embellished this unreliable narrative, focusing only on profit and failing to explain the sacrifices made for faith. Human strength lies in our belief in justice. A person's strength is measured by the degree of their faith in justice.

Like the Iron-Faced Demon, whose employers would flatter him, making him feel immensely indebted, ultimately leading to a vow of undying loyalty. Therefore, when an assassin is swayed by such things, he must realize his weakening, his limited lifespan.

This is why I became the defector mercenary I am today. If I hadn't awakened, reclaimed my free will, and continued to betray my faith in justice, I fear I would have already succumbed to weakness and died years ago.

I remain deeply worried, fearing the girl hidden under the reeds will fall into the trap and escape, even though I sternly warned her before I left. If Du Mo were conscious, he would naturally suspect the enemy was using a trick, but if Du Mo were unconscious or disoriented, the girl could easily fall into Xuan Ya's trap.

Xuan Ya, carrying a small green canvas bag and a sniper rifle, quickly swam to the other side. Like a hunter tracking prey, he crouched down to examine the footprints on the riverbank and the trampled vegetation.

My escape method is very strict, especially when facing this kind of tracking. I must run with my toes barely touching the ground, trying not to kick the grass or break any weak saplings. Any extra clue could lead to death. Xuan Ya currently doesn't know my identity; the Iron-Faced Demon's throat was slit, and he couldn't tell him the truth in his dying state.

However, Xuan Ya sensed that the opponent who broke into the factory this time was very strong; the Iron-Faced Demon had already met a tragic end, dying in hand-to-hand combat.

The mercenaries of the Sael Demons are masters of bloody hand-to-hand combat, capable of slaughtering even the most ruthless and deadly thugs wielding broadswords with a dagger. Their attacks are particularly ruthless, targeting specific areas; what appears to be a small cut is actually incredibly cruel and lethal. The Raven, aware of this, is unusually cautious. His delayed appearance suggests he's making thorough preparations, determined to snipe us

. This situation is different from being on the deserted island. I don't have grenades or fishing line to remotely kill the Raven, and I couldn't easily pick up a sniper rifle. If I had a sniper rifle, this guy certainly wouldn't be so brazenly exposed on the riverbank.

But now, facing the Raven, one of the eight legendary assassins, is already extremely difficult, but without a weapon to fairly counter him, our disadvantage has only deepened. The difficulty and danger are at their peak.

That guy not only carried a sniper rifle, but also two FN57 pistols on his waist, exactly the same weapons used by the pirate leader Jason Jody. Such good equipment, in the hands of a few criminal thugs, would at most be just a pistol, but on his waist, its power was like adding wings to a tiger.

Originally, I thought the abandoned factory would send an ordinary thug with a sniper rifle to hunt me down, so I could lure him into the dense forest, jump down from the treetops, and kill him. Once I got my hands on that thing, let alone one Iron Mask, even ten or eight, if they dared to peek out from behind the factory's iron fence, I'd blow their skulls to bits.

But now, the surrounding environment had completely changed. With only a dagger, solving the immediate problem was like trying to convert a group of wanton villains with a Bible—naturally, the odds were against me. If we were truly in a deserted island's mountain streams and gorges, I could infiltrate the area where weapons were buried, casually pull out a Barrett sniper rifle with a range of over two thousand meters, carry two hundred bullets, a canteen of fresh water, and a few packets of catfish meat, and turn the abandoned factory into a graveyard. In less than three days, they would all be reduced to bones.

The small green canvas bag that Hanging Crow carries is bulging, containing not only ample ammunition but also plenty of food and fresh water. If he climbs the hilltop, occupies a high position, and finds a place to ambush, I would be forced to stay under the green leaves of the trees, starving or dying of thirst. Of course, if I couldn't endure it and quietly approached the river to steal a few sips of water, my head would immediately explode, my skull flying off first.

Chapter 227: The Provocation Under the Shadowy Moon
Facing Hanging Crow, I absolutely cannot disguise myself in the grass or tree canopy and wait for him to approach. If I were to suddenly attack him in that way or seize his weapon, given his reaction speed and attack methods, he would inflict serious injury or death on me instantly.

The scorching sun baked the hills and the palm grove below. I plucked a few newly sprouted leaves from a dark green twig and chewed them. Without camouflage, craning my neck to peer over the hilltops would be dangerous; the Raven's ability to observe anomalies was far superior to that of the ten snipers deployed from the Sea Demon.

I myself am a high-level battlefield ghost. Facing the sniper Raven, my only advantage lies in knowing his situation, while he only knows his opponent's superior melee combat skills, unaware of the even greater danger of my sniping abilities.

Therefore, I can deduce how the Raven will use the terrain and vegetation in this environment, and what hunting tactics he will employ. Of course, I also know what he might overlook or neglect. This is my only possible chance of victory.

I won't take any action before nightfall. The Raven has already swum across the riverbank; his cunning is unmatched by any ordinary sniper. As soon as he crossed the river, he immediately nestled at the foot of the hill, crouching low and creeping through the grass to reach a high vantage point with good visibility.

The crow raced along the clearing between the river and the hill, and just as he was about to disappear from my line of sight, he suddenly veered eastward. But I knew it might be a feint; once he reached the foot of the hill, who knew if he would turn back and dart westward.

Hopefully, there were no crocodiles or leeches in the stream below the hill. Otherwise, with Dumo covered in wounds and the girl, naked from the waist up, possibly also suffering injuries in her genitals, the smell of blood would put them in double danger.

Thankfully, my shirt was camouflage green, a gift from the blue-eyed first mate to Dumo and me when we disembarked from the pirate submarine. So, I didn't have to chew on bitter grass to stain my clothes anymore. I could just lie under a large palm tree, curl up in a ball in the tangled weeds, and hold out until dark so I could sneak up to the hilltop and steal the gun from the crow.

The beef filling my stomach was turning into energy, and the tea I'd drunk had been completely wasted during the run. If I hadn't had a hearty meal in the factory shed, I probably wouldn't have had the strength to fight the Raven by nightfall.

The sun, like a fireball, burned all day, only slowly sinking its red-hot body behind the hills at dusk. The dim light, like a curtain, fell, obscuring the impending killing intent.

As the insects began to chirp, I slowly stretched out my body and crawled towards the best sniping position. Behind these hills was a wide, flat meadow. If I were dragging Dumo and the girl along, even if we ran fast, we wouldn't be out of range by the time the Raven reached the top and aimed.

The Raven understood this; he knew our most likely hiding place was in the dense forest at the foot of the mountain. And since we had no fresh water or food, he wouldn't risk chasing us into the forest—that would be playing to our weaknesses and losing our advantage.

So he would leisurely lie on the high hilltop, waiting for us to succumb to our torment and expose our hidden bodies. For Hanging Raven, this was a low-risk hunting game.

I had already cleaned my hands, which were covered in locust thorns, before nightfall. Now, I cut strips of cloth from my shirt with my dagger, wrapped them around my palms, and crawled step by step toward the sniper position most likely to be held by the enemy. This process had to be extremely careful. If I crouched and jogged or stood up to approach, the danger against an assassin like Hanging Raven would be immense.

The hills were connected, with only the section with the palm grove showing a clear break. The rest were mostly gaps about the width of a fist. The highest hill was a lumpy mountain, shaped like a gorilla looking down at its belly.

That was the best sniping position in the area. As long as Hanging Raven didn't know that the enemy he was facing was also a ghost sniper, he wouldn't think too much and would confidently lie there, monitoring the large grassland behind the hill, waiting for the three of us to timidly appear on the horizon.

All because my weapons are outdated. If I could just get my hands on a sniper rifle, none of those factory guards lurking on the riverbank would make it back alive. Xuan Ya is now my enemy. Facing an enemy, I must kill him ruthlessly, otherwise Yi Liang and I will all perish.

In this world, no one cares about our lives, so I must cherish the women who care about me, cherish the justice and conscience of the living, and rescue them all from the pirate ship.

The hillsides are not as rough as the mountain cliffs. The short, moss-like grass on the stone surface is very smooth and slippery, allowing me to crawl quickly like a snake, and soon I reached the halfway point.

The scorching sun of the day made me feel like I was lying on a heated kang bed; my chest was dry and heavy, and my throat was terribly thirsty.

The moon didn't arrive as expected. Perhaps it had already risen into the sky, but the pollution from the abandoned factory severed the connection between the universe and humanity. Back on the deserted island, after moving the seven treasure chests of the dwarf savage, I returned, running atop the mountain. The countless stars in the night sky were dazzling, as if I could reach out and pluck them.

Chapter 228: The Horror Under the Palm Tree.

Memories of the past flooded my mind. Even though those days were fraught with danger, Lu Ya, Yi Liang, and Chi Chun were always by my side, and my soul found joy. This longing was filled with boundless concern; I knew it was love. Deep within my heart, those scarred hands persevered, continuing to climb out of the abyss of pain.

The moon had indeed climbed into the night sky, hiding behind the dark clouds. I had crawled to the top of the hill. Next, I would slowly approach the sniper position that the hanging crows might be lying in wait, traversing the undulating mountain peaks.

The palm trees atop the hill were sparse and not dense, but fortunately, some waist-high wormwood allowed me to lie in wait, like a cheetah hiding behind withered grass, ready to pounce on an antelope.

The highest point of the hill resembled a gold ingot, surrounded by lush green grass, which perfectly concealed the barrel of my sniper rifle. There was no moonlight tonight, and the crow guessed we might escape in the dark. His nonchalance, however, allowed another kind of murder to occur.

Because, after I had concealed Dumo and the girl and swam ashore from under the river grass, the girl suddenly looked startled and hurriedly reminded me.

This open grassland behind the hill was a former minefield. During the day, you could see the wooden sticks stuck next to the detonators and walk around it.

But at night, you absolutely could not cross it recklessly, or your whole body would be blown up into the air, and what would fall back down were pieces of your corpse.

The Raven understood this situation well, so it would rather hear the sound of us being blown into the air than close the distance and provoke a brutal hand-to-hand combat.

My calculations were correct. I crawled slowly, and when I was about thirty meters from the best sniping position on the hilltop, I dared not move.

Ahead was darkness, with only the vague outline of a large palm tree surrounded by lush, verdant grass. I stared intently at this blurry, dissipating scene, my pupils slowly dilating, then I fixed my gaze.

A moment later, my retina detected a subtle movement. From time to time, a few blades of grass in the long clump twitched slightly, like a newly awakened wild rabbit lost and unable to escape. I knew very well that it was most likely the Raven, eating or drinking, or perhaps scratching itself.

The crow was much more heavily clothed than I was, and it had the advantage of the terrain. In the grass on the hilltop, many dark brown mosquitoes buzzed. They seemed to sense I couldn't move, and dared not swat them into bloody pulp as usual, so they seized the opportunity to frantically bite me. As

soon as I slowed my crawling, several welts appeared on my neck and ankles. Even though they itched unbearably, I had to resist scratching them, or I would attract the crow's bullets.

There were still more than ten hours until dawn, and I had to crawl thirty meters in those ten hours. That meant I had to approach the crow silently, like air, and slit its throat with a single stroke.

(Full text novel reading, updates, faster, all at 16k Literature Network, PC site: www.16k.cn, mobile site: wap.16k.cn) cn supports literature, supports ①6k! Only by maintaining a speed three beats slower than a snail can I safely approach the enemy step by step. I almost used the index fingers and thumbs of both hands to pinch the roots of the wormwood and exert force, pushing my body forward under the influence of my will. Only in this way could I make the still wormwood sway abnormally, because there was not a breath of wind tonight.

Fortunately, there were no chirping insects like grasshoppers or crickets in the nearby grass, otherwise, my approach would have been detected by the hearing of the hanging crow. Dumo had been soaking in the river all afternoon, and I wondered if he had made it through.

Dumo and the girl must have heard that the hanging crow had already crossed the river with a sniper rifle. They had to swim across the riverbank under the cover of darkness and shake off the guards with hunting rifles. Being sandwiched between the hanging crow and the guards was too dangerous. Once it got light, moving even half a step would be fatal.

I don't know how much time had passed, about three hours, and I had only moved ten meters, less than twenty meters away from the hanging crow. Beneath my chest, sharp pebbles constantly prickled my skin, causing a stinging pain. The mosquitoes were biting fiercely, like a swarm of thugs chasing and kicking a crawling weakling.

Two more hours passed, the night grew darker, and the thin moonlight filtered through the clouds only provided a faint glimmer of light. At this moment, if a bolt of lightning were to suddenly strike the distant sky, it would be a cruel and bloody scene for me and Xuan Ya.

He wasn't asleep; a few blades of grass still swayed occasionally in the dense undergrowth beneath the palm trees. I knew the enemy was close at hand, and a fierce battle was imminent.

A crouching figure gradually emerged from the tall grass. Now, I was absolutely certain that this was Xuan Ya, the sniper from the daytime.

We were less than three meters apart. With a swift movement, I pulled the dagger from my left shoulder with my right hand. My feet, already embedded in the grooves of the stone, pushed off forcefully, propelling me like an arrow through the dense undergrowth. I lunged at the crow's nape, knife in hand. A single strike would sever his spine between his shoulders, instantly incapacitating him.

But just as I arched my back, a thin, soft thread twitched against my chest. "Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling..." The thread stretched rapidly, almost taut, and just before snapping, a string of melodious copper bells jingled at the crow's prone position.

This creature was exceptionally cunning, not blindly cautious. He sensed the dense undergrowth, an easy target for opponents or wild animals. He habitually used his fishing line, drawing a three-meter radius circle around his sniper position, protecting himself at the center.

No matter which direction danger approached, in the poor visibility, this alarm line would be triggered. On the left side of his head, a small palm branch was inserted, with three bells the size of eyeballs hanging from it. The sudden sound was completely unexpected by me and Xuan Ya, like a wind chime summoning a ghost in the middle of the night, sending chills down our spines and filling us with extreme horror.

"Clang, clang." Having startled the Crow, I couldn't pull back my body, which was already in mid-air. His reaction speed was far beyond that of an ordinary assassin. The dagger in my hand, blade pointing downwards, was about to pierce the back of his neck. But he suddenly flipped over, his sniper rifle held horizontally in both hands, instantly blocking my right hand holding the knife. I tried to slash diagonally along the barrel of the rifle to sever the four fingers of his left hand, but he used a rabbit kicking an eagle, his heel striking my lower abdomen. In the instant

my body was kicked away, I grabbed the barrel of the sniper rifle with my left hand and pulled it sharply to my left side. One reason was to prevent myself from rolling back into the grass; the other was to prevent him from adjusting the barrel and avoiding my torso facing the muzzle.

The Crow had two FN57 pistols and a sharp dagger mounted on his back. But at this moment, the force of our struggle was immense, and the intense physical confrontation left him no chance to free a hand.

The pain in my lower abdomen was like a candle flame burning inside. I gripped the gun barrel tightly, raising the dagger to stab his chest while simultaneously slamming my knee into the ground, trying to regain my balance.

Xuan Ya's face remained heavily masked, like a ninja on a nighttime assassination mission.

Before he could stand, he assumed a flipped-over turtle posture, attempting another kick. I immediately curled my right arm inward to protect my groin, thus deflecting the dagger's fierce thrust.

Chapter 229: The Sharp Knife Connecting the Heart

. "Crack! Crack! Crack!" Xuan Ya wasn't tall; although he was 170 centimeters and appeared thin, his limbs were as hard as steel, his muscles possessing incredible explosive power. His blows felt like a hammer blow.

My elbow, protecting my groin, was numb from Xuan Ya's continuous low kicks. For a moment, I couldn't stand upright, but I had to hold onto the gun barrel tightly; if I let go, Xuan Ya would shoot me dead. The unsheathed dagger, though sharp and menacing, was unwieldy and forced to be clutched in my clenched arm.

If this stalemate continued, the bones in my arm would surely be shattered by his kick. This guy truly lived up to his name, "Nine-Lives Raven"—killing him was no easy feat. My initial advantage in the dagger-wielding attack was instantly neutralized, putting me on the defensive.

I knew he wouldn't dare kick my forehead; otherwise, the dagger would pierce his foot. But I remained restrained, unable to stand up. He knew I wouldn't dare loosen my grip on the gun barrel, hence this restraint.

Raven used the speed of his leg attacks to relentlessly suppress me, attempting to free his left hand to reach for a dagger or pistol behind him. I yanked my right hand sharply, pulling my enemy's body to the side, finally halting the relentless attacks on my groin. At that moment, I swung my dagger high, stabbing fiercely into Raven's abdomen.

Caught off guard, he released his right hand, which had been struggling with me for the sniper rifle. This sudden, unexpected release of force, like the malicious side in a tug-of-war, caused me to lose my balance. The rifle butt, like a lever stretched taut on a millstone, swung towards my rear.

I quickly released the barrel, letting this crucial weapon fall into the nearby bushes. Taking advantage of the moment, Xuan Ya rolled backward, dodging the sharp blade I was about to strike. This intense close-quarters combat was like water in a bowl; a single leak could decide the outcome. Such is the nature of duels between masters; luck often plays the biggest decisive role.

Xuan Ya's dropping of the sniper rifle was, in fact, a tactical maneuver. His release concealed a trap, because a sniper rifle has a limited range; it requires turning the barrel, pointing it at the opponent, and firing the bullet. No matter how quickly this process was completed, it couldn't compare to the time it took him to draw his pistol and blow my head off. Our fight, seemingly a shoving and pushing, was actually a deadly undercurrent.

The enemy's backward roll gave me a chance to stand up. I lunged at him again, without giving him a moment's respite. Seeing that I hadn't fallen for his trap and had decisively closed the distance, giving him no opening,

I interrupted his attempt to draw his pistol. His right hand, which had been positioned to draw his pistol, was interrupted by my lunge. He hesitated to reach his right hand behind his hip, instead drawing his dagger to defend against the deadly attack.

His speed in drawing the dagger was incredible; the movement was concealed within his backward roll. By the time he crouched, a sharp dagger was already in his hand, blade pointing downwards.

In a few seconds, the ambush and counter-ambush were over, and the ongoing battle resumed, with both of us using the same weapon. My eyes were immersed in the darkness; the earlier scare hadn't made him tense at all. Neither of us could see the other clearly, yet we both knew each other intimately. I could pinpoint his ambush location, and he, of course, knew my sniping skills.

Like two crickets, Xuan Ya and I crouched in the tangled grass, each wielding a sharp blade, circling each other. Suddenly, the opportunity to attack seemed to appear simultaneously. We leaped up, sideways, lunging at each other with a suicidal ferocity.

However, Xuan Ya and I both knew that killing each other by suicide at this moment was meaningless. For Xuan Ya, perhaps it was only for a commission from his employer, and sacrificing his life was not worth it; for me, life was not meant to end at the right time, and there were still many things I cared about to accomplish.

So, our left hands gripped each other's right hands, and we rolled in the grass under the palm trees, each with a sharp blade thrusting down in front of our hearts.

Xuan Ya was very strong, with excellent endurance and resilience. Under the cover of night, the rustling of insects and the humming of animals in the hills sounded like the cheers of nobles in an ancient Roman gladiatorial arena. That enormous vortex of desire swirled us both inside; no matter who killed whom, death would inevitably take its place.

My entangled bodies with Hanging Crow, ravaged by our fight, flattened the tall grass surrounding the palm tree. Our faces, like two plates, flipped and dripped sweat. My opponent's clothes were very tight; I could vaguely make out his piercing eyes. The veil covering his face stretched all the way to the junction of his nose and brows. The

pre-dawn mist quietly descended the mountain. That night, I had no chance to kill Hanging Crow, and he, in turn, was equally adept at both offense and defense. Neither of us could find a fatal weakness, and neither dared to try any bizarre moves. As the long night dragged on, the close combat quickly allowed us to understand each other.

"You're strong, but you can't kill me!" Hanging Crow, pinned beneath me, flashed a cold glint in his eyes. His words, spoken through the camouflage veil, were as icy as his gaze.

He finally spoke first, but I didn't intend to use psychological tactics against him; that would easily lead him to fall into my trap. The bloody battle, like a stage performance, requires top-notch acting skills to lull the enemy into a false sense of security in order to survive. The methods themselves aren't despicable, because they can't change or determine the nature of things.

This kind of killing method is only effective against ordinary enemies. Since Xuan Ya is listed as one of the eight legendary assassins, using verbal tactics against him would be far too naive. "You can't kill me either," I replied in a low voice. However, this brief exchange, like a gentle spring breeze, slightly eased the tension in our hands.

Xuan Ya and I were both exhausted. This compromise, like a covert battle, seemed like a secret respite, but in reality, it was a way to conserve our absolute strength for survival. Like boxers, when the bell rings, they each sit back in their corners. This feigned rest is intended to allow our fists to return to their peak destructive power, the ultimate goal being a bloody and brutal fight.

Xuan Ya's conversation also served this purpose. “There aren’t many who can fight me to this extent. You must have crawled out of the Abyss of Purgatory. Who are you fighting for? Money? Vanity? Favor?”

“For myself.” My answer to Xuan Ya wasn’t just for show. As one of the Eight Legends, he must know many things unknown to others. I could kill him, I could ambush him, but my conversation with him gave me an indescribable feeling, especially that sentence: “You must have crawled out of the Abyss of Purgatory.” It made my lonely and sorrowful inner world tremble, as if a soul that had been drifting in the dark space for many years suddenly heard another soul entering this space.

“Yes, I also fight for myself. It seems that today’s battle, regardless of victory or defeat, is still meaningless.” Xuan Ya’s words were rambling, but I understood his meaning. Like those who share similar experiences, we can communicate and resonate more quickly.

"Iron-Faced Demon is your friend. Killing me for him might have some meaning. Before you kill my friend, I must kill you, I must escape danger. You are not my target, an unexpected person. You shouldn't have gotten involved." Raven chuckled sinisterly after hearing my words.

"From the very first round you fought the Sael Demon mercenary after climbing the iron fence, I've been watching with my sniper rifle." Raven narrowed his eyes again, a sinister smile spreading across his face behind his veil.

His words were quite seductive, immediately drawing my attention and triggering unconscious thoughts. Did this man have any grudge against Iron-Faced Demon? He killed the bald, shirtless man perhaps because that guy was close to Ironface.

I knew Raven wouldn't dare use psychological tactics on me. If he was hiding far away and saw my conversation with the Sael Demon mercenary, he would naturally understand that the guy had fallen into my verbal trap, which was why he was fatally crippled by Little Cun's knife.

If my conversation with Raven was merely a distraction, it would be far too dangerous for him. I know how to counter psychological warfare, and if he were truly willing to take the risk, his heart would be easily pierced by a knife.

But one thing puzzled me: why didn't he snipe and kill him, even after I had already killed the mercenary, Selma? "I think I know who you are?" Raven added, seeing my silence.

"Am I the first step in your plan? You drifted here from the vast ocean." Raven's words grew increasingly alarming; he seemed to know about the Sea Demon and the mysterious, high-risk mission Jason Jodi had given me.

Chapter 230: The Living Ghost Stepping into the Dawn
"I don't understand your words." The strength in my arm gradually returned, providing support for this conversation. Raven snorted coldly, displaying extreme disdain.

"From your fight with the Iron-Faced Demon, I guessed you were the third assassin to arrive in Africa. Don't play dumb with me; it will only make me look down on you." This guy was getting impatient.

“Mauritius is just a stepping stone. You took two of my sniper rifles, hindering my mission.” With that, I slightly increased the pressure, pointing the blade downwards.

“You still want to fight? How about I give you the sniper rifles?” Sensing my renewed killing intent, Raven quickly threatened. “Then I’ll leave immediately and head to Madagascar.” The words had barely left his lips when the sharp blade in my hand suddenly thrust downwards with tremendous force.

The other seemed well-prepared, not allowing me any advantage in striking first. We were once again like bulls locked in a death struggle, locked in a frenzied battle, each wanting to pierce the other’s heart immediately. A

slow, stinging pain began to pierce my chest; Raven’s dagger began to bite like ants, cutting deeper and deeper into my pectoral muscles. This kind of fight was helpless. If he stabbed me, the distance between our chests would shorten, and his chest would be pierced by the same amount.

Raven was right; in this kind of fight, neither side could kill the other. It was either a matter of letting go or mutual destruction. "When I felt the pain of the dagger piercing my chest, my opponent also stopped struggling in pain. The darkness before dawn meant that we could only smell the blood; we couldn't see the red liquid seeping from the blade.

'Let's do it again, slowly loosening our grip. Otherwise, this is a waste of time and won't lead to a victory.' I agreed with him because dawn was approaching, and if something happened to Du Mo, this night's fierce fight would be meaningless.

The two of us firmly controlled each other's arms, compromisingly and slowly getting up. As soon as our center of gravity left the ground, almost simultaneously, we both tried to kick each other away, but each other's arms held us down in time, and the fight entered an awkward phase.

'I'm not afraid of getting injured; I can go back to the factory to recuperate. But you're different; it will seriously affect the mission the Pirate King gave you. Hmph…' Raven spoke again. He was putting psychological pressure on me, but what he said wasn't without reason.

'When you accepted the mission from the Sea Demon, you were already dead.'" "Since Xuan Ya has said this much, it means he wasn't just bluffing me based on guesswork. Now, I need to sort out my thoughts, understand what I really want, and how to achieve my goal of saving people.

'Do you have a mole on the Sea Demon?' I asked urgently, hoping to find out about Yi Liang and the others' safety through him. 'What? Are you sober now?' Xuan Ya clicked his tongue in disdain.

'Although I don't know your identity, just the fact that you managed to sneak up on me and almost take my life made me decide not to kill you. So, the stalemate has lasted until now, and you still have a chance to see the sunrise at the end of the hills. You have too many attachments, which led to an excessive killing intent. This is the first time I, Xuan Ya, have been so merciful to a target, so I spent the whole night trying to make you understand.'

After saying that, he loosened his grip on his right hand, and the dagger he was holding fell into the grass. 'If you kill me, it's the same as killing yourself, the same as replacing me, and you'll also hide in that abandoned factory. Your remaining life will be filled with unbearable pain!'" "The words of the raven immediately alerted me, my thoughts churning like turbulent waves. I ripped off the veil covering his face, and the sight that greeted me sent a shiver down my spine, my pores widening.

The raven seemed to have deliberately shown me his face, and in that instant, I witnessed the ghost stepping into the dawn. His face was gaunt, his mouth below the nose had been cut off, leaving only two rows of skull-like teeth standing upright on his bloodshot gums. That terrifying face resembled a vicious ghost.

'You, you, you are…' I couldn't calm myself, finally understanding the meaning of his earlier words. 'Yes, I am the second assassin before you,' the raven said coldly, pulling the veil back over his head. '

I am also an assassin, burdened by those empty titles. They call me 'Nine-Lives Raven,' implying that those who want to kill me should not act rashly. However, I have already paid a heavy price for this. To be alive now means I have died eight times before; if you call me 'One-Lives Raven,' it is indeed fitting.'" "

Hanging Crow doesn't need to spell it out. I already understand. He ended up in this miserable state because he accepted the same mission as me. Du Mo said when we were smuggling across the sea that the first two assassins we sent had died on the grounded mission. Now it seems there were too many lies. I have to be more vigilant and careful in my judgments.

"Since you're the third assassin sent from the Sea Demon, I'll tell you the truth. Otherwise, you'll only follow in my footsteps and die with resentment." As he spoke, Hanging Crow glared at me coldly, signaling me to release my grip on his arm.

I quickly pressed the blade against his throat, but his deep, cold eyes showed no fear. "Throwing the two pistols from your waistband into the bushes behind the tree isn't because I don't trust you. I'm already numb to life and death, but I can't die now." "

Xuan Ya was decisive, immediately pulling out two FN57 pistols from his backside and tossing them aside nonchalantly. 'Turn around.' I didn't twist his shoulder proactively, but waited for him to turn around automatically so I could search him.

Respect for Xuan Ya was essential; he had said he would go easy on me during the night fight. I knew this kind of man; he had survived countless bloody battles to this day, and the boasting and arrogance of humanity were long gone. Therefore, I had to search him to see what could be fatal to me.

'No need to be so careful. There are no other hidden weapons. I've said it before, if I really wanted to kill you, you would be dead long ago in a one-on-one dagger fight.'" Listening to his words, I still felt his body from shoulder to toe, but found nothing.

The disdain in Xuan Ya's expression wasn't contempt for me; he had simply experienced the wickedness and deceit of human nature, which was why he viewed the world with such cold indifference.

He understood my caution, but it wasn't mere timidity; otherwise, assassins like us wouldn't have survived this long, much less persevered in our pursuit of success. His

intuition was exceptionally sharp; he anticipated that a mercenary like me, who killed without hesitation, wouldn't blindly attack him.

We sat cross-legged on the grass, facing each other. He must have had much to say to me, and I desperately needed this information. Even knowing the truth about the pirate mission, I feared I would risk my life in Africa while Luya and Yiliang had already suffered humiliation and died tragically.

"I'll tell you the truth now. When you know all this, you'll understand your situation and make a choice." The pain in my chest gradually subsided, transforming into inner anxiety and panic.

From Raven's account, if I were to learn that Jason Jody was a hypocrite and wouldn't keep his promise to me, then the women captured on the Sea Demon would be plunged into the same infernal hell as those on the Cang Gui ship.

Chapter 231: A Shocking Secret

Raven took a deep breath and said with a heavy heart, "You saw the pirate captain Jason Jody on the Sea Demon?" I nodded in acknowledgment. "That wasn't the true pirate king." His words startled me, like a taut bowstring twanging, and my brows furrowed involuntarily.

"The real pirate king, Jason Jody, is trapped in Abraham on the Juba River. Of course, this is information I obtained during an assassination mission. And now, he might be hiding in Baidabo, or even Beledwin on the Shebelle River, it's hard to say. After all, at your current stage of the mission, you can't even imagine the situation there."

Every word Raven spoke was like a bolt from the blue, a whip of lightning striking my heart. I had a premonition that this was indeed an impossible task, because the conflict ultimately involved Somalia.

Xuan Ya slightly bowed, plucked a tender yellow dandelion from beneath his knee, and began to tear at the petals. I knew that as he recounted his story, he was also reopening old wounds in his memory. This act of diverting his energy was a way to control his emotions. What kind of pain could drive a top-tier assassin like Xuan Ya to this state, using the monotonous act of tearing petals to soothe the boundless grief and anger within his heart?

"Speaking of which, you might have thought of something. But things are far more complex than your brain can currently deduce." The delicate, soft petals were torn bare by Xuan Ya's rough, hard fingers. He paused, then continued.

"In recent years, the targets of high seas robbery have gradually expanded, no longer limited to the gold and silver jewelry and charming women of the middle class on passenger ships. As the pirate king's appetite has grown, he has also sensed the escalating conflict between his maritime interests and those of powerful groups from various countries, and the increasing risk of being besieged by their navies."

I glanced at the cold, sinister eyes of the raven, then looked up at the tall palm tree, exhaled deeply, and released the tension of being wary of an attack. I continued listening to his story.

"To live a long and healthy life and avoid the misfortune of being killed by a torpedo one day, the pirate king transferred some of his looted wealth to land beforehand. And the Jason Jody you saw on the Sea Demon, although he resembles him in appearance, is merely a puppet of the pirate king."

Having lived in seclusion for five years in an unnamed town in Cambodia, the raven's words finally allowed me to take another step, catching up with the pace of this world.

"Oh! So, all this trouble is ultimately to get to Somalia and rescue their pirate leader?"

I thought he was agreeing, but instead, Xuan Ya gave a cold, dismissive laugh, his disdainful expression returning to his veiled face.

"Wrong, it's to kill the real pirate king." He then bent over again, plucking a dandelion flower from just past his knees, continuing the tearing motion.

Seeing Xuan Ya tearing at the petals again, dissolving the surging pain within him, I couldn't help but shudder. What had he seen? What predicaments had he been in that would drive such a dangerous assassin to this point?

"So, you've oversimplified the problem." Xuan Ya finished, lowering his head again. I knew his eyes held something he didn't want others to see, hence the deliberate avoidance of his gaze.

Killing the true pirate king would leave the Sea Demon leaderless, allowing the imposter Jason Jodie to rightfully take his place as the real pirate king, seizing control of the illicit wealth and leading his pirates to attack targets on the high seas.

"Now, your deduction is correct. Only by killing the pirate king trapped in Somalia can the Sea Demon have a pirate king again." Raven's eyes, seemingly cold and indifferent, possessed a remarkable ability to read people and understand their thoughts. Although my expression was blank, he clearly sensed my inner turmoil.

"Yes, I did think of that." I quickly replied to Raven, masking my inner turmoil.

"I also sailed on the Sea Demon. Before heading to Somalia to assassinate the pirate king, I was accompanied by an Indian. He was responsible for passing on the mission; the operation had to proceed step by step. If any part failed, the mission would be aborted."

This surprised me greatly. His knowledge of so much indicated just how deeply involved he was in the mission. Perhaps he had already experienced the horrors of death in Somalia.

I understood, of course, that his mission's failure meant only two things: either the plan was exposed, leading to a counterattack and pursuit by the pirate king's men; or he would be killed by his employer.

"Recently, several pirate groups have sprung up in the Indian Ocean, the strongest of which is called the 'Somali Sailors.' The reason these pirate organizations have sprung up like mushrooms after rain is that the real pirate king is trapped and unable to return to the Sea Demon."

The crimson sun, like a timid child, peeked at me and Hanging Raven from the distant hills. Now, I couldn't help but feel a lingering fear. If I had killed Hanging Raven then, I don't know what would have happened to me.

But then again, if he were truly so weak, he wouldn't have escaped Somalia alive. Perhaps only he, the "Nine-Lives Hanging Raven," was lucky enough to return.

"When the tiger's away, the monkey reigns supreme. The pirate king's retirement has eased the pressure on the growth environment of other pirates." After saying this, we fell into a moment of silence.

"I sailed from Sihanoukville, Cambodia, and when I entered the Indian Ocean, I clearly felt the ship's environment deteriorating."

It's not hard to imagine that those small pirate ships that used to collude with and rely on the Sea Demon are now seeking new allies. This process, seemingly a collapse, actually stimulates the proliferation of pirates. It's like cells are weak before division, but once they divide and mature to the point of further division, it's bound to become uncontrollable.

After hearing my words, Xuan Ya's eyes lit up. His previous coldness and the contempt he constantly displayed seemed to have been wiped away like hot breath on glass.

"Oh, now that you mention it, I guess who you are. You must be the legendary Southeast Asian defector mercenary, wanted by three countries, codenamed: Killing Machine Chaser!" After saying this, Xuan Ya's face lit up with joy, eagerly waiting for me to nod in agreement.

“Yes, before I became a mercenary, I carried out many missions to clean up the government’s stains. Being a killing machine was nothing to me; I never showed mercy to my opponents, yet I regretted the innocent lives I had taken.” As I finished speaking, I unconsciously plucked a wildflower beside me and tore off its petals.

“Haha, now, you, the tool that cleansed others’ stains, have become a stain to be feared, subject to the erasure of a new tool. However, you’ve survived to this day; you must have grasped the true meaning of humanity, and understood the mysteries of life and justice.”

I raised my head, gazing once more at the towering palm tree, and sighed deeply. For the first time in five years, I felt as if I saw another version of myself in the Raven; my lonely soul finally had a chance to converse.

“Let me tell you something else. You’re very lucky; you only had a minor puncture to your chest to learn this little-known information.” I nodded respectfully, accepting the Raven’s teasing.

From the moment I tore off the veil from the raven, revealing his entire lip below the nose and the skin peeled off his chin, and even the gruesome injuries hidden beneath his tightly wrapped body, I was deeply moved by the price he had paid to reveal such a shocking secret about the pirates.

“If you want to sneak into Somalia, never land in Kismayo. You must follow the Juba River towards Buale, then cross Baidabo, swim into the Shebelle River, swim upstream over the border dam, and enter Ethiopia. This is the only way to escape.”

After speaking, Xuan Ya's darting eyes flashed with a hint of malice, as if he were waiting to see a good show. I understood what he meant. Following the route he described, let alone assassinating the pirate king and then being hunted down, even a simple adventure would be enough to cost me most of my life.

Even if I survived and crossed the border into Ethiopia, the endless desert and the armed native blacks would easily send me back to God's side when I was exhausted. In that case, one can imagine how tragic the fate of Yi Liang and the others would be.

Seeing my hesitant gaze, Xuan Ya knew I wasn't the kind of blind, overconfident assassin, and he spoke lightly again.

"The moment you approach Buale, dangers from all sides will assail you like dust in the air, leaving you no chance to breathe. That newly risen 'Somali Sailors' pirate group will hunt you down as if you were an envoy to rescue the pirate king. Don't underestimate them. I've heard that some of the eight top assassins have already been hired by them for a hefty sum, and none of the assassins who went to rescue the pirate king, except for me, have returned alive."

After hearing this, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, glistening in the warm sunlight.

"At first, I did underestimate the situation. This mission is more dangerous than any I've ever undertaken for the government." The Raven nodded in agreement.

"There's another thorny problem you wouldn't even imagine." "As if deliberately trying to scare me, Raven rattled off a barrage of information, leaving me breathless.

'Jason Jody on the Sea Demon always secretly sends two assassins at once when assigning this mission. There's always another assassin, either before or after you, no more than a week later, traveling this route to Somalia. Whether or not you kill the Pirate King, your final mission is to kill each other. So, a double kill!'

It turned out that Jason Jody, the one wearing sunglasses, who was locked in the large iron cage on the pirate ship that day, said that the two assassins sent before had died, and Dumo had also told me the same thing. It seemed that Raven had already killed the assassin who had accepted the mission at the same time as him, surviving without a trace and hiding in this abandoned factory.

'Was the assassin you killed one of the Eight Great Assassins?'" "I pressed on, and Raven shook his head worriedly, as if he were recalling something.

Chapter 232: The Flames of Revenge

"However, the guy who accepted the mission at the same time as you this time is very likely one of the eight assassins. Jason Jody on the Sea Demon has plenty of wealth, so he would rather spend a lot of money to hire the most terrifying assassin to ensure the mission is completed, kill the Pirate King, and wipe away all traces, leaving no one alive who might leak the secret." "

The words of the Raven were a wake-up call. Otherwise, I would still have considered Dumo as my final opponent, ignoring the potentially extremely dangerous assassins accompanying him.

I never placed my hopes on Jason Jody on the Sea Demon. The day after I became a defector mercenary, I swore to always be loyal to my own will and never believe those lies again.

Therefore, I remained steadfast in my plan: once I reached the crucial stage of the mission with Dumo, I would use counter-coercion to force the Sea Demon to release Luya first, or else I would expose the pirate ship's conspiracy.

But now, I've encountered the Raven, this cannon fodder who escaped death, making me realize how naive my previous thinking was. Dealing with Jason Jody on the pirate ship, facing such a cunning and treacherous person, there was no chance of counter-coercion.

Because the assassin who accepted this mission at the same time as me might complete the assassination of the pirate king, and I didn't even know when I lost..." We don't even know their usefulness. Whether the assassin who killed the Pirate King lives or dies is irrelevant to saving the women. If that happens, forget about demanding the Sea Demon release them; we probably won't even have time to escape.

If I want to succeed, I can't follow the fake Pirate King's methods. Otherwise, I'll always be led by the nose and manipulated. It's like two debaters. If one questions and the other answers accordingly, they'll easily be dragged into a passive position. Only by avoiding the other's topic and breaking out of this pattern can I have a chance to win.

Meeting Raven is indeed a good thing. Putting aside his purpose in revealing the truth to me, as long as I can correct my previous thoughts in time and think of another way to save the women, there's still a chance of success.

Seeing that I've been silent for a while, Raven knows I'm thinking. This man is quite wise; he guessed my thoughts again. "So? Your previous plan didn't work, did it? You said you couldn't die. I know you have too many concerns, far beyond what money can measure. It's like saying I'd give you the Earth, but what can you do with it?" He paused again, as if afraid I wouldn't understand his words, deliberately giving me time to process them.

I remained silent, waiting for Xuan Ya to state his conditions first. He was actually more anxious than I was, so he continued, "I know what you value. Although what you value isn't worth a penny on the international market, I still want to help you. Of course, to be more frank, we can use each other."

Hearing this, I wasn't surprised. He had spent an entire night to secure a conversation with me; it wasn't out of curiosity. I could sense his intentions. Xuan Ya thought I was idealistic. Although many assassins were materialistic, if a person wasn't idealistic, they wouldn't use materialism to mask their idealism.

"I'm here to save people, you're here to kill. Our actions are opposite, but our essence is the same." "Upon hearing this, Xuan Ya's eyes immediately flashed with a relieved smile. Deep within Xuan Ya's cold heart burned a vengeful fire, evident in the狰狞 (zhengning, meaning ferocious or hideous) face of someone whose mouth had been cut off.

If a monk were to appear at this moment, silently chanting 'When will the cycle of revenge end?' and trying to comfort Xuan Ya, it would be utterly ironic. I am not a monk, much less impersonate one. I believe in Xuan Ya's hatred and support his revenge.

If Lu Ya, Yi Liang, and Chi Chun also had their mouths cut off, I would chase them to the ends of the earth, turning the vast ocean upside down, until I..." I personally tortured Jason Jody and the others.

Forget about the treasure chests on the deserted island; even if God were directing it, I wouldn't buy it. I vow to avenge my enemies with blood, because God doesn't represent justice, so he's the enemy and no longer worthy of my faith.

Anyone who dares to advise me on this will naturally get a beating. The only way to make evil repent is through the sword of justice. I firmly believe this! Therefore, I hope Raven's hatred burns brightly, and I will help him take revenge to rescue the women on the Sea Demon. They are the weak, innocent lives that bring joy to men.

"You want to save men and women?" Raven asked readily.

"Women," I said in a low voice.

"Hmm! Anger for women, how many?" He nodded thoughtfully, indicating that he understood my current anxious feelings.

"Forty," I said.

"Ah." "Hanging Crow couldn't help but utter a crisp, short interjection, then

fell silent for a long time. After a long silence, when I looked up at him, his cold eyes blinked as if he had suddenly snapped out of his daze, and his mouth, hidden behind the veil, clicked its teeth, making two dry, "cawing" sounds.

His dazed expression was like two frenzied Tibetan mastiffs that had suddenly sprung out of the basement and were then forcibly dragged back by their owner, as if nothing had happened.

Hanging Crow subconsciously glanced at me again, though it was subtle, I still felt awkward. This awkwardness was like a lioness nursing her baby antelope, only to be seen by another lion passing by.

"Oh, oh, I understand, I understand. I'll just assume you're a lecher." "After saying that, Xuan Ya laughed first.

This was probably something only the two of us could joke about, because at that moment, we both firmly believed the other meant no harm; true sincerity between people is fleeting.

He meant that only he, Xuan Ya, could understand me, knew the innocence between me and those forty women, and that my reason for saving them was out of human instinct and a sense of justice.

Otherwise, what assassin would have forty women in their life, available for pirates to seize and use as bargaining chips? After all, I am an assassin, not a corrupt official or merchant."

Moreover, Xuan Ya firmly believes this: as a high-level sniper, one must not only guard against and shoot visible enemies, but also guard against and eliminate invisible ones. Having multiple sexual partners greatly increases the risk of viral infection; only an idiot would mistake this invisible danger for a blessing.

Therefore, Xuan Ya understands, and so do I! Real assassins almost never come into contact with prostitutes or sex workers; they are more sensitive to danger than ordinary people.

For example, they avoid wet kissing strangers to prevent the spread of viruses in their saliva, require their partners to shower thoroughly before sex, use condoms properly during sex, and immediately wash away any secretions from their pubic hair afterward.

This process, for high-level assassins, is also a crucial, silent battlefield that requires attention; it is not mere speculation.

God has endowed humanity with the laws of life and allowed humanity to possess the fruits of wisdom; those who abide by them and those who are compassionate will naturally receive God's blessings. Only those lowly villains and scoundrels would disregard their own and others' lives, dying on this silent battlefield.

Of course, those who shed tears over "a single misstep leading to eternal regret" are often those who are missing a "leg." This is also God's law. Assassins are God's servants. As long as they spread God's love, they will naturally understand the principles of humanity, constantly avoid forbidden zones, and live longer.

URL 1:http://localhost:909/htmlBlog/15171.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=15171&aspx=1

Previous Page : Humanity Forbidden Island [Full Text] - 15

Next Page : Ninety-nine Women Born with a Lonely Star (Complete) - 24

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Humanity Forbidden Island [Full Text] - 16

comment Open a new window to view comments