Chapter Six: Perils Abound!

“As expected, a master,” Qin Feng’s expression grew grim. It was clear now that the opponent was indeed a skilled sniper—quick-firing, precise, able to hit even a helmet thrown at high speed. If it had been his head instead, he would have been killed instantly. How was he to deal with this?

“Stay calm, stay calm. The more dangerous the situation, the more one must keep cool,” Qin Feng told himself, then cautiously glanced outside. The surroundings remained eerily silent; he saw no trace of the enemy sniper.

At that moment, Qin Feng thought of the squad leader, the deputy, and his brothers. A decisive resolve flashed in his eyes. “Squad leader, deputy, brothers, I swear I’ll avenge you.”

With a steely determination, Qin Feng braced himself—if he died on the battlefield, it would be nothing but bad luck. In a heartbeat, he pushed off the ground, sprinting like lightning. In the face of mortal peril, his potential surged; he dashed more than ten meters in one breath, then rolled to the side. Before he could regain his footing, he sensed the sharp sting of danger and, startled, forced himself onward.

“Whizz, whizz, whizz!” Three sniper bullets screamed past, striking the ground where Qin Feng had just run. If he hadn’t moved so quickly, he might have been hit—perhaps even killed. He kept running, veered after three or four meters, and hid behind a tree.

“Whizz!” As he sped forward, a bullet suddenly tore past his body, so close he could feel its searing heat slicing through the air. Had he slowed by even a fraction, he’d have been struck.

“At last, I’ve found you.” Qin Feng finally pinpointed the sniper’s hiding spot.

“Hiding in a dense thicket,” Qin Feng observed. The sniper was concealed amid thick undergrowth; had it not been for his sharp eyesight, he might never have spotted him.

“Bang, bang, bang!” Qin Feng squeezed the trigger without hesitation, firing three sniper rounds in a triangular formation at the enemy.

In the next instant, he saw the enemy sniper fire a shot in return. Qin Feng dodged swiftly, then focused on his target—he saw the enemy collapse into a pool of blood, red and white matter splattered on the ground, unmistakably slain by his hand.

“What a formidable marksman.” Qin Feng exhaled in relief; the enemy sniper was terrifying. If he hadn’t found him first, he might have been eliminated.

Approaching the fallen sniper, Qin Feng inspected his neck and saw a blood-red skull tattoo. It was clear—the man belonged to the same group as those who had killed his comrades.

“Squad leader, deputy, brothers, I’ve taken down one of the snipers who murdered you. But the enemy may have more shooters—I’ll keep hunting them.” Qin Feng spoke aloud; there was no joy in his heart. This man was among those who had killed his brothers. Though he’d dispatched him, Qin Feng felt no satisfaction—his comrades could not return from the dead, and another enemy was still on the run. He would pursue him; only then could he wipe them out completely.

“Boom!” Just then, a faint explosion sounded ahead in the jungle.

“There’s something happening up front.” Qin Feng looked toward the source of the explosion, certain that people were fighting there. He readied his gun and ran forward. Ahead, the faint hiss of bullets could be heard, occasionally punctuated by another explosion.

Qin Feng sprinted through the jungle, burning energy with every step. Fortunately, it was early evening, the trees thick and sunlight blocked, the ground blanketed with leaves and occasional shrubs. Now, at the cusp of summer and autumn, the forest floor was piled with thick, dead leaves; the air was heavy with the fetid scent of foliage and mud. After the recent rain, the jungle was far from beautiful.

None of this fazed Qin Feng. In his teens, he had roamed the depths of the forest with old Qin for months at a time, sometimes half a year. Survival in the wild was second nature; he knew the jungle intimately. As he ran, he moved like a leopard—swift, bounding over obstacles, leaping nimbly, forging ahead.

About fifteen minutes later, the sounds of fighting up ahead ceased. Qin Feng slowed, advancing cautiously. The closer he got, the more careful he became. Soon, he saw a corpse lying on the ground, blood staining its head and chest. The chest was blown open, blood pouring out, the body clearly lifeless. Dressed in a camouflage suit, it blended seamlessly with the surroundings; if not for the blood, one might not even notice it was human.

Qin Feng approached warily and examined the body—it was an East Asian, eyes cold but still lingering with a yearning for life, a Desert Eagle in his hand. Checking his neck, Qin Feng found the blood-red skull tattoo. So, this was another of those who had slaughtered his comrades. Good riddance.

He inspected the Desert Eagle and found it broken, the magazine missing—who knew where it had ended up. Qin Feng ignored the man and moved on. Soon, gunshots echoed ahead; he quickly slipped into cover. “Whizz, whizz, whizz”—three bullets struck the trees around him. Had he not hidden quickly, he might have been hit.

Qin Feng scanned the surroundings, trying to spot anyone nearby. The situation was unclear; reckless action might get him shot. He gripped his Type 88 automatic rifle tightly, waiting patiently. The jungle was silent, only the wind rustling the leaves, as if nothing had happened.

His childhood experience living in the forest reminded Qin Feng that beneath calm surfaces often lurked deadly danger. Now was not the time for impatience. He took a deep breath, focused his mind through his training, calming himself, imagining himself as a tree or a blade of grass in his surroundings. He hid carefully, remaining alert.

“Whoosh!” He didn’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly a gunshot rang out. Following the sound, Qin Feng saw a woman’s silhouette darting through the trees, a gun in her hand. From the angle of her movement, it was clear she had fired the shot.

“So there really is someone. Glad I stayed hidden; otherwise, I might have been in trouble,” Qin Feng thought, relieved. If he hadn’t concealed himself, he might have been discovered and endangered.

Qin Feng quietly raised his gun, observing through the scope. In the direction the woman had fired, he saw a figure dodging quickly. On the man’s neck, a blood-red skull tattoo was visible. This meant he was likely an ally, since he too sought to eliminate those bearing the blood-red skull.