Chapter Seventy-One: This Is a Hungry Wolf!

A gentle breeze stirred, rustling the leaves as they danced with the wind. The forest appeared tranquil, broken only by the sound of wind passing through the trees. From a distance, it stretched endlessly, dense and impenetrable, giving the impression of a vast, ancient expanse. In truth, this was indeed a primeval forest—boundless and wild, with edges nearly impossible to reach.

At this moment, a figure darted nimbly through the undergrowth, his speed remarkable. Like a leopard in its native domain, he left fleeting shadows in his wake, moving so swiftly he seemed more lightning than man—his passage almost impossible to follow with the naked eye.

No one could say how long he had been running before he finally evaded his pursuers. That figure was none other than Qin Feng. Glancing over his shoulder and confirming no one followed, he leaned against a large tree, chest heaving, sweat streaming down his face, so exhausted he nearly collapsed.

“Fortunately, the cultivation technique Old Qin taught me allows for rapid recovery,” he thought with relief. If not for the method passed down to him, which enabled swift replenishment of energy, he might have collapsed during that desperate flight—or worse, died from sheer exhaustion. Over two hundred men had hunted him, bullets flying in a relentless barrage; Qin Feng had poured every ounce of his skill into the escape and barely survived.

“At last, no more pursuers,” he murmured, scanning the woods behind him and seeing no trace of the enemy. Reassurance settled within him. Luckily, those men could not match his speed; otherwise, his fate would have been grim. He felt a surge of gratitude for his exceptional running ability, noticing that the ordeal had only honed his speed further—a form of progress in itself.

After a short rest, Qin Feng felt his strength steadily return. The cultivation technique was indeed remarkable, restoring both stamina and mental clarity in record time. Without it, recovery would have taken much longer, if it happened at all. He could not help but admire Old Qin, his grandfather, for teaching him such a valuable technique. One day soon, he thought, if time allowed, he would return home and roast a succulent chicken to honor his grandfather’s kindness.

Old Qin was his grandfather, though Qin Feng affectionately called him by his surname—a term of endearment that Old Qin never minded. Qin Feng held his grandfather in great respect.

“The rendezvous is to the south,” he reminded himself, carefully orienting in the dense forest before resuming his swift pace in that direction.

After covering some distance, he occasionally heard faint gunfire in the distance—a stark reminder of the enemy’s numbers. Caution was essential if he hoped to survive this battlefield and complete his mission.

The forest, lush and vibrant, teemed with life, the wind carrying a bracing chill typical of winter. Amid the greenery, the cold was softened by the movement of life, and the breeze brought with it a fleeting sense of warmth.

A flock of birds fluttered cautiously through the branches, searching for food yet always mindful of the threat of gunfire. The birds knew well the peril bullets posed; a single shot could mean instant death. Still, hunger drove them to risk foraging, their flight neither hurried nor sluggish, but always wary. Perhaps sensing danger from the distant gunfire or finding nothing more to eat, they chirped anxiously and took off, vanishing quickly into the sky.

Soon after, the sharp cry of a mountain eagle split the air. The great bird soared from the depths of the forest, wings beating powerfully as it ascended into the clouds, disappearing within moments.

With that, a tense, deadly aura descended upon the forest. This was the atmosphere of imminent violence—a battlefield where the crack of gunfire and the thunder of grenades echoed unpredictably. Survival required constant vigilance; death might descend at any moment.

As he moved swiftly through the underbrush, Qin Feng felt leaves brushing his face, the vastness of the forest pressing in on all sides. He was keenly aware that the enemy was likely searching for him and his comrades, so he pushed on, determined to find his fellow soldiers. Only by regrouping could he learn their fate and possibly help them escape danger.

Suddenly, as he ran, a surge of dread prickled at his senses. He glanced ahead and saw, standing as still as a tree, the form of a wolf—motionless, blending perfectly with its surroundings. If not for his keen sense of danger and careful observation, he might have mistaken it for a corpse.

“Remarkable,” Qin Feng thought, astonished by the wolf’s skill at concealment. From a distance, it seemed no more than a dead animal, but it was very much alive—waiting, ready to strike at any unwary prey.

“A wolf—it seems we shall see who survives this encounter.” Qin Feng drew his pistol, nerves taut with anticipation. He knew wolves to be formidable adversaries; a single misstep could mean death. He prepared himself for battle, knowing that survival depended on killing this hungry predator.

Having grown up in the forest, Qin Feng was well aware that meeting a wolf was never a good omen. Judging by its gaunt sides, this wolf was likely a lone wanderer, separated from its pack—starving and all the more dangerous for it. A ravenous wolf would do anything for food, even turn on its own kind; such creatures were truly fearsome.

“A starving wolf—this demands utmost caution,” he told himself, tightening his grip on the pistol.

“I don’t know if a whole pack is nearby, but whether there is or not, I’ll deal with this one first,” Qin Feng decided, his gaze steady and cold. He knew hungry wolves were never simple foes, and this one might be the harbinger of more. To survive, he would have to eliminate it.

He watched the wolf intently. It remained perfectly still, as if waiting for the perfect moment to unleash a violent assault.

“If you won’t attack, then I will,” Qin Feng declared under his breath. Since the wolf showed no sign of moving, he would take the initiative. He was a soldier, armed and resolute; there was nothing to fear. If the enemy would not yield, then he would eradicate it. Now, he was ready to destroy this ravenous beast.