Chapter 50: A Desperate Struggle

Chen Cao, compass in hand, pressed on through the vast sea of sand and trees. Fortunately, he had yet to encounter any enemies in the forest. With the compass providing clear direction, the journey seemed to be progressing smoothly. He glanced up at the sky, checked his bearing, and realized that he was only a dozen kilometers from the location Moseska had given him. “Let it be Zhou Hongye and the others,” Chen Cao prayed silently.

Suddenly, as he moved swiftly ahead, the rustle of leaves disturbed the silence up ahead. His keen hearing told him this was no animal—the footfalls were rhythmic, steady, and now and then he caught the faint clink of weapons.

“Not good, someone’s here!” The thought flashed through Chen Cao’s mind, and in an instant, he ducked into a thicket, hiding himself from view.

At that moment, a soft, rhythmic insect-like chirring rose in his ears. Though the forest was dense with plants, this sibilant cadence did not escape Chen Cao’s notice. It was the code used by special forces for covert communication.

“Rattlesnakes!” The realization sent a jolt through him. He hadn’t expected this elite special operations force to appear here.

“Rattlesnake” was an elite unit from the developed nation of the Drus Federation. Culled from over a million soldiers, its numbers barely reached a few hundred. They regularly appeared on battlefields, executing special unconventional missions. From what Chen Cao had learned at school, the Drus Federation’s Minister of Defense, the founder of the “Rattlesnake” special forces, had once boasted that with ten thousand Rattlesnakes, he could sweep across any battlefield with impunity.

Holding his breath, Chen Cao knew he had to remain still and wait for his chance. If two squads ran into each other, a skirmish was inevitable. Should the opposing forces annihilate one another, it could only be to his advantage.

Suddenly, the footsteps ahead came to an abrupt halt. Chen Cao mused silently, “These Holy Warrior soldiers are well-trained.”

As he wondered what kind of people made up the so-called Holy War Alliance, the rustling began again, this time louder and more chaotic.

“What, aren’t they afraid of giving themselves away?” Chen Cao narrowed his eyes, peering toward the source of the commotion. There, two figures emerged, clad in loose black robes, white flowers pinned to their chests, and skull masks covering their faces. They dragged several bodies, shrouded in camouflage netting, from the undergrowth—gleaming scythes gripped in their hands.

Not far off, the rustling stopped, and three more similarly dressed warriors stepped from the woods, all armed with scythes. They laid the corpses side by side, then raised their hands and loudly prayed to the sun above.

The Holy War organization possessed such fearsome, bizarre troops! From his vantage point, Chen Cao’s sharp eyes picked out the insignias on the corpses’ sleeves—the letters spelled out “Rattlesnake.”

In the blink of an eye, they had eliminated three of the Drus Federation’s most elite special operators—supposedly the best of the best. The sheer power of these mysterious warriors was terrifying.

A chill ran through Chen Cao. He realized that the Justice Alliance was in for a real fight in this war. No wonder the Holy War fighters in the caves remained fiercely loyal to Alfred and radiated confidence, even as they endured constant siege and material shortages.

After finishing their prayers, the black-robed warriors crouched down, took out thin tubes from their robes, and inserted the pointed ends into the corpses’ necks. Leaning in, they slipped the other end through a small hole at the mouth of their skull masks and began to suck.

Chen Cao felt every capillary in his body tighten, his hair standing on end. Though he had learned from Linghu Ruomu’s “special education” about the world’s most brutal organizations and their cruel treatment of prisoners, nothing compared to what he witnessed now: these unknown warriors—both their fighting style and speed, and their open, brazen blood-drinking on the battlefield amid the armies of developed nations and Odell—were utterly otherworldly.

As he stared, the blood-drinking warriors tilted their heads back, patting their now-bulging bellies and emitting satisfied, muffled sounds. The sight chilled Chen Cao to the core; these were demons from hell, and they walked the earth in broad daylight.

Suddenly, an explosion thundered nearby, startling Chen Cao so much he almost gave away his position. He looked up, frowning—he was close to his objective, and that was the sound of a grenade. It seemed his target was in trouble.

The black-robed warriors paused, glancing at each other. One produced a glass bottle filled with a clear liquid and poured it over the “Rattlesnake” corpses. They picked up their scythes, formed a tight column, and advanced toward the explosion, leapfrogging in tactical formation.

With a hiss, white smoke rose from the corpses. In moments, bodies and uniforms alike dissolved into wisping blue smoke, vanishing from the world.

Once the black-robed warriors had disappeared into the distance, Chen Cao rolled out of the thicket and hurried to where the bodies had lain. To his astonishment, not a trace remained. The leaves showed no sign of burning—no evidence at all. This was far more potent than the corpse-dissolving fluid he kept in his boot.

Staring after the retreating black-robed warriors, Chen Cao muttered angrily, “These people must have powerful backers. The Justice Alliance commanders must know about them by now. I have to follow and see what’s happening…”

Chen Diwen, panting and supporting himself on Xiao Li, fought his way forward, firing his pistol in retreat. Bao Li, though he’d lost his sniper rifle, wielded a lightweight Czech submachine gun, covering Chen Diwen’s movements as they advanced in turns.

To be honest, after more than two years with 0611, and following standard training, he had spent most of his time on real missions. But never before had he faced such strange adversaries. By his count, he had fired nearly two hundred rounds without hitting a single enemy.

Bear, hefting his Flame King, had just flung a grenade in anger, but clearly hadn’t hit anyone. Now he fired in bursts, but the enemy only showed themselves for a moment to draw his fire before darting away in bizarre, unpredictable motions.

The black-robed warriors seemed to value their ammunition, toying with their prey rather than wasting bullets. They simply kept pace, refusing to fire.

“Boss, they want to fight us hand to hand. If we don’t take them down, we’ll never get away!” Bear shouted, his gun barrel already hot.

“Bear!” Chen Diwen fired another shot behind him, clutching his wounded chest, afraid Bear would rashly engage these eerie foes hand to hand. Yet suddenly, inspiration struck—perhaps close combat was the answer. It might be the fastest way to get rid of these shadows, since they clearly wouldn’t rest until they’d finished them off.

Chen Diwen slowed his steps, calling to Bao Li on the right flank, “Bao Li, are you confident in close quarters?” Then, with a wan smile, “As your commander, this is the best I can come up with!”

Bao Li ceased firing, regarding Chen Diwen’s smile—it was the most genuine smile he’d ever seen from him. Discarding his submachine gun, Bao Li smiled back, sincerity in his voice: “Boss Chen, since coming to Odell with you, fighting through jungle and desert these past days, we’ve won dozens of engagements. I have nothing but praise for your command!”

Chen Diwen stopped, letting go of Xiao Li’s supporting arm. “Sorry, brothers. I may disappoint you this time.” He tore a strip of cloth from his uniform to bind his arm, then drew his dagger and raised it high. “Brothers, fight with everything you have. Don’t forget: if it comes to your last breath, use the corpse-dissolving fluid. Xiao Li, send a signal to Instructor Guo—you know how, right?”

Xiao Li tapped at his transmitter as he replied, “Don’t worry, Boss, I’ve already sent it. I’ve also pinpointed our target’s location within a kilometer. As long as luck is with them, they should have no trouble finding it.”

“We’re with you, Boss!” Bear roared, unable to wait any longer, pulling a long curved blade from his back.

At this moment, Bao Li felt that Chen Diwen was truly a warrior—not a politician squeezing his students.

The black-robed warriors, concealed behind tree trunks, saw their targets discard their firearms and immediately sprang from the woods, forming a ring around Chen Diwen’s group. They’d had them surrounded for some time, awaiting the perfect moment to strike.

Chen Diwen’s judgment was right—taking a few of them down would at least relieve the pressure for the next rescue team. In his heart, he thought of someone, silently murmuring, “Chen Cao, I know you’re part of this mission too. I’m counting on you.”

The black-robed warriors, catching sight of their opponents’ cold steel, put away their guns and drew long, crescent-shaped scythes from beneath their robes, the blades gleaming coldly in the sunlight.