Chapter Eighty-Two: A Fortuitous Encounter

The sky gradually darkened. Duan Tianya stood atop the mountain ridge, holding a pair of binoculars and scanning the activity below. Waves of armed border defense soldiers and various elite members from the academy had all entered the jungle. Birds scattered upwards in panic, gunfire and heavy breathing mingled together—a cacophony Duan Tianya could sense, for their purpose was singular: to search for Chen Cao, the traitor from Unit 0611.

“Old Duan, I wonder, is there any point left in playing this game?” A voice rang out coldly, as if an icy spike had been plunged into boiling water.

The voice came from directly behind Duan Tianya.

He lowered the binoculars, lit a cigarette, and turned slowly.

The speaker stood before him, swathed entirely in black cloth. Head and face were obscured, rendering his features indistinguishable. Only his eyes shone with a chilling brilliance, making him resemble some sinister statue in the dimming twilight.

Duan Tianya, upon seeing the black-clad figure, showed little surprise. He drew deeply on his cigarette, a calm smile surfacing on his face. “My bodyguard—is he unharmed?”

The figure’s voice was low and heavy. “Hmph. Compared to you, those guards are mere decoration. The Da Chen military has declined. Duan Tianya, let it go. You’re old now.”

Duan Tianya did not take offense at the mocking words. “Of course I know my bodyguard is no match for you. But what I truly want to know is—twenty years, you never once set foot on Da Chen’s land, and now you appear here. It seems my judgment was correct. You care—you care about this young man’s destructive power.”

“Hmph, as if I’d fear him!” The black-clad man snorted and fell silent.

Seeing his silence, Duan Tianya’s smile grew more pronounced. He smoked quietly, the haze swirling in his lungs and then dissipating into the mountain breeze.

The black-clad man spoke. “Do you really want to keep playing?”

Duan Tianya flicked away his cigarette butt, his gaze unwavering. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? My greatest wish in this life is to see you dead. And this isn’t a game—it’s for Da Chen’s lasting peace, for the advancement of the military.”

The black-clad man burst into laughter, his body trembling with the force of it. “A mere rookie, fresh from his first battle, wants to kill me? Duan Tianya, after all these years, have your wounds addled your mind?” He suddenly sobered. “You must be insane, Duan Tianya. I am the only one trained specially, who knows how to use my powers. You think this kid can defeat me?”

His laughter echoed across the mountaintop, his icy words cutting like the biting wind. Yet Duan Tianya, severely disabled and leaning on a cane, remained unmoved.

Duan Tianya gazed coldly at the black-clad figure. “I admit, in all of Da Chen’s military, no one can kill you. But I believe he can, because he’s no longer one of our soldiers.”

“What? What do you mean?” The black-clad man felt a sudden chill in his heart.

Duan Tianya ignored his surprise, each word stabbing coldly at the other. “You misunderstand. Our Da Chen soldiers are not lacking in combat strength, but in times of peace, we endure. Even in war, we constrain ourselves with national laws. Otherwise, if we slaughtered indiscriminately, how would we differ from terrorists like you? Chen Cao is no longer Da Chen’s soldier—he’s a fugitive. Now, he’s free from our laws. He can use any means, any method to strike at the organization you’ve built—even to kill you. That’s the rule of this game I’ve created. He’s like a thorn, unbound by borders or laws, roaming the world, building his own power, always striking at you, depriving you of rest, making you live every moment haunted by the ghosts of slain Da Chen soldiers and compatriots!”

“Duan Tianya, Duan Tianya, good… good…” The black-clad man shuddered, repeated the word “good” several times, then disappeared down the cliff with a few quick leaps.

Duan Tianya lit another cigarette. The smoke veiled his mouth, hiding the pallor of his face.

“Since the bodyguard’s already been dealt with, yet he still uses a rope to descend—still thinks he’s a superhero, the fool!” Despite the cool mountain breeze, Duan Tianya wiped the sweat from his brow.

...

Chen Cao swiftly vanished into the jungle. He had a long road ahead and could not afford to linger, even though Xiao Li had already guessed most of the truth. He could not reveal too much, for this was a secret everyone in the world knew was a lie, but until he completed his task, it could not be exposed, and it did not change his current status as a traitor.

The weather was sweltering. Having gone without rest for an entire night, Chen Cao still fled desperately, wounded.

He passed through dense woodlands, relying on a year’s worth of mission experience. Soon, he could see the Husum Valley, which would lead him to the impoverished nation of Husum. This valley held epochal significance for the Da Chen military—it was here, after thirty years of peace, they fought their first large-scale battle, annihilating Husum’s forces. At that moment, the Da Chen army crossed the valley, marched straight to Husum’s capital, Lai, and forced the resilient Husum government—long invaded by powerful nations—to sign the armistice treaty.

The pain in his wound worsened. Chen Cao knew the herbal remedy was only a temporary fix, not a cure. If he didn’t get proper treatment soon, the wound would fester, and he might lose the use of his arm.

His lips were pale, his eyes swollen and red from exhaustion and mental strain. On a nearby slope, he spotted a massive rock, from which a slender stream of water flowed.

For a desperately thirsty man, even a small creek or nearly dried pond was a luxury. Sometimes, jungle water sources were no easier to find than in deserts. Some appeared crystal clean, but hid deadly threats. Chen Cao knew where the water was, just as the other elites from Unit 0611 would.

Approaching the water, Chen Cao stayed vigilant, carefully surveying his surroundings before leaning against the rock. He extended his parched, yellowed tongue, greedily savoring the trickle of water. Once his thirst was mostly quenched, he removed his shirt, untied the rag binding his shoulder, and, gritting his teeth, washed the wound. The water from the rock, rich in minerals, could slow the deterioration of the injury.

When he removed the cloth, the bullet wound had turned pale. Chen Cao took out a plant from his pocket—a wound medicine gathered during his flight. He chewed it into powder, applied it to his wound, and then bound it with the blood-stained cloth.

He was about to enter Husum. Once past the border, the pressure of pursuit would lessen. Husum was chaotic; he could find a hospital to treat his wounds. As for the cost, Chen Cao didn’t worry—a fugitive could easily obtain money or even free medical care.

After tending to himself, he exhaled deeply, leaning against the back of the rock. His eyes remained open, ever vigilant. Even brief respite could help his body recover.

At that moment, two men in camouflage emerged from the nearby jungle, carrying a pale body.

Chen Cao quickly hid in a crevice. He saw at once that they were armed, their camo lacking any military insignia—they were clearly a smuggling gang.

When he saw what they carried, his anger surged. It was a woman. He shifted for a clearer view, and now he saw her fully: closed eyes, long lashes, delicate features—a girl from Da Chen. Judging by her rumpled clothes, she was a border minority. Most infuriating of all, her garments were stained with blood.

Her limp body swayed with the motion of the men, her slender arm adorned with a silver bracelet. She had clearly been dead for some time.

Chen Cao clenched his teeth, almost grinding them to dust. He began to stealthily approach.

In a patch of tall grass, the two men panted heavily. One, stocky and dark-skinned, wiped his brow and tossed the body onto a mound of earth, complaining, “Hebba, we served the boss all the way, and now have to deal with this damn mess. Must be cursed for eight generations!”

The other, Hebba, sat on a rock, undoing his collar and fanning himself. He immediately gestured for silence. “Shh, Connor! Are you brain-dead? Don’t say such things. If he hears us, you, me, and the captain will vanish in this jungle!”

Connor replied, “The cargo was moving just fine, and now we have to worry about this white girl!”

Flame King 82_Flame King Full Text Free Reading_Chapter Eighty-Two Unexpected Encounter Completed!