Chapter Fifty-Two: The Grand Encirclement Strategy

“Be careful, Xiao Li. Give the transmitter to Chen Cao. We’ll go rest first.” Chen Diwen looked at Chen Cao’s calm smile and felt a slight stirring in his heart; at this moment, Chen Cao was no longer the disgrace he once was in 0611. He had become a true warrior, one who dared to shoulder any burden.

Xiao Li decisively handed a signal transmitter to Chen Cao.

Chen Cao took the button-sized transmitter and smiled slightly, nodding. He knew he had another task ahead: a deal with Mosika.

Turning, Chen Cao patted Bao Li’s shoulder. “Take care, brother!” He picked up his gear and said to everyone, “Classmates, until we meet again!” With that, he strode toward the woods.

“Chen Cao, be careful!” Bao Li called out.

Chen Diwen’s lips moved, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

As Chen Cao walked, his fingers danced, sending messages to Mosika. Based on her information, the target he was helping her find was nearby, but strangely, the school’s mission was also in the vicinity.

According to Xiao Li, Zhou Hongye and his group were close as well. Xiao Li was one of the school’s top trace-tracking experts, so his word was reliable.

While pondering this, Mosika sent a message, saying she had successfully received Chen Diwen and the others in the cave. Her warriors had complete control of the cave, so there was no risk of their identities being exposed. She urged Chen Cao to focus on his mission, promising to take good care of Chen Diwen’s group.

Chen Cao snorted coldly, replying, “You’d better take good care of your comrades, or else you should look after your soon-to-be-found target.”

Mosika didn’t reply again, and Chen Cao let it go. He searched every corner within a kilometer, but there was no sign of anything. Even the black-robed warriors who had fled earlier had vanished.

“They couldn’t have left so quickly. Even the fastest wouldn’t leave no trace. So why is it so clean?” Chen Cao wondered.

While he was deep in thought, gunfire erupted nearby. Chen Cao tensed and listened carefully. The gunshots in the woods started sporadically, then grew into a continuous barrage, occasionally punctuated by explosions. “Is a large-scale assault underway?” he thought. To avoid being caught in the crossfire, he hid cautiously.

What Chen Cao didn’t know was that the Justice Alliance Military Command was in chaos, especially within the headquarters of the Drus Democratic Federation. Major General Zachary, commander of Oderlu, stood holding the phone, his face ashen and silent, while the voice on the other end raged continuously.

When Zachary answered the call, he stood ramrod straight. None of the staff officers below dared speak; their faces had gone pale.

All this was because the man shouting on the phone was the Minister of Defense, General Nathan, founder of the Viper program. The cause of the uproar: in just one day, contact had been lost with thirteen Vipers.

“What happened? I demand an explanation! Do you know the cost of training a Viper? It's a golden ratio! For this war, I sent thirty Vipers to you! And in a single day, you lost thirteen, not even a body found—Zachary, you’re a fool!”

General Nathan grew increasingly furious, and in the end, he didn’t even allow Zachary a reply. With a bang, he hung up.

The staff officers glanced at their commander’s grim face, knowing that the notoriously hot-tempered major general was about to erupt.

Yet after several deep breaths, Major General Zachary spoke slowly: “First, connect me to the Allied Command. Second, mobilize all participating units. In three minutes, launch a full-scale attack—carpet sweep the hill zone, annihilate everything, regardless of cost or method. Find those thirteen missing Vipers no matter what.”

At the same time, ten minutes later, General Conrad, Supreme Commander of the Alliance Army from the Mainz Democratic Federation, solemnly announced the start of the Demon Hunt operation. All allied nations mobilized their forces for a devastating strike against the Holy War Organization led and hidden by Alfred in the hills. Alfred’s bounty was raised from five million to ten million dollars, and the second-in-command, Sebastian’s, from three million to eight million. An internal directive was issued: kill a member of the terrorist organization, earn a thousand dollars, with the removal of their sun totem as proof.

The speed of the meeting’s agreement was unprecedented. Twenty commanders of participating countries at the table did not, as before, argue or analyze; instead, they unanimously approved the plan.

The truth was, each had a secret shame. Over the past weeks of special warfare, their elite troops had vanished mysteriously, bodies never found. If they didn’t mask this with a victorious campaign, they’d have no way to explain to their Defense Ministries or the public back home, and their ranks would be stripped.

Thus, a sweeping, spectacular jungle war commenced.

Driven by high rewards, the soldiers went mad.

Throughout the jungle and hills, Justice Alliance troops—armed with advanced weapons, armored vehicles, and mountain artillery—searched inch by inch, under constant air cover. Any sign of the enemy brought immediate aerial bombardment, rapid-fire machine guns, and relentless fire, regardless of cost. Everywhere became a sea of flames and blood. Whenever the bodies were intact, their sun totems were carved off with knives.

The situation turned one-sided. The Holy War guerrillas scattered in flight; they couldn’t even split up, as the hills—once just a few hundred kilometers—were now swept by hundreds of thousands of soldiers, thousands of aircraft, and countless vehicles pushing forward in a wall, making any effective resistance impossible.

Chen Cao knew none of this, but he could tell from the relentless gunfire and explosions that the conflict had escalated from special warfare to a full-scale military operation.

Just then, several Holy Warriors, panting heavily and clutching their guns, ran toward the heart of the woods. Shouts echoed behind them, in the standard Mainz language. Chen Cao understood clearly—it meant, “Stop! Don’t run!”

The Holy Warriors fired back a few shots. One stomped hard on the soft earth, then pulled away the leaves and dirt. Another took out a key-shaped device, hurriedly unlocked, lifted the cover, and jumped in. The others shot while jumping in, and the last one quickly replaced the dirt and leaves, shut the lid with a clang, covering it perfectly.

Dozens of Justice Alliance soldiers ran up, guns at the ready, but found no trace of the Holy Warriors, cursed in frustration, and pressed onward.

Chen Cao watched all this, feeling a surge of delight: “So these guys are fighting with tunnels! Truly, fortune favors the prepared!”

After everyone left, Chen Cao sprang from the bushes, walked to where the Holy War guerrillas had vanished, brushed away the dust and leaves, and used his knife to pry open the metal lock. It was effortless—but when he opened the lid and looked inside, he was stunned. The entrance had been filled and sealed by the guerrillas.

Chen Cao snorted, “You think that little problem will stump me? Don’t you know I’m Wang Tiger Sheng’s only disciple—the king of tunnel-crawling?”

He pulled out his engineer’s shovel, carefully covered the entrance with no trace, walked a few steps, and then thrust the shovel down hard. With a rustle, he pulled it out and examined it—dry, loose soil, not the right direction. Looking into the distance, he thought, “The sun is high overhead. According to Uncle Wang’s ‘Earth Classics,’ there should be another exit nearby. Well, I won’t waste my energy—I'll wait right there for them!”

He headed off, shovel in hand.

Several hundred meters away, Chen Cao concealed himself in the jungle, waiting quietly for the Holy Warriors to emerge. This time, he wouldn’t let them seal the way so easily.

Sure enough, within minutes, a dark head poked out from the undergrowth—but it barely appeared before dropping back, emitting a strange cry.

A shriveled hand reached out, trying to shut the lid.

Now! Chen Cao would not let the chance slip by. If they closed it, he’d have to search again. Thinking this, he drew his shovel, rushed over, grabbed the hand, and pulled hard.

It was a bloodied hand, clearly belonging to the guerrilla who had just surfaced.

“Come out! Get out here!” Chen Cao shouted, yanking fiercely. Strange noises echoed from within the tunnel; clearly, the guerrilla inside was caught off guard, struggling desperately.

Hearing this, Chen Cao grew more excited, a childlike thrill welling up. He pulled and yelled, “Damn it, whether you’re man or ghost, get out here! I won’t give up!”

They struggled for dozens of seconds. Chen Cao was pulling with all his might, and the other’s shoulder was nearly exposed. Suddenly, with a snap, Chen Cao tumbled backward, vision blurring, landing with a thud in the grass.

He looked at the half-arm in his hand, stunned for a while. The limb was so thin it was just skin and bone, with veins bulging. The wound was cleanly severed at the shoulder by a knife. On the wrist, he saw a flower tattoo—a red center, like teeth or an open mouth with a tongue, eerie and ravenous.

Disgusted, Chen Cao tossed the arm aside, thinking, “It’s them again. Are these guys human or ghosts? Whether they cut it themselves or not, not even a grunt—they’re damn ruthless!”