Chapter Twelve: The Ethereal Spear!

Bang! In an instant, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the air. The tree where Qin Feng had previously concealed himself was hit, its trunk shattered in two, splinters flying everywhere, exuding a murderous intent so thick it seemed capable of destroying everything—a terror beyond compare.

Qin Feng’s expression shifted. To break a tree in half with a single shot—only a master sniper could do that… a Barrett M82A1.

He was fortunate to have changed positions earlier. If not, his fate would surely have been tragic.

“Barrett M82A1. Looks like the enemy isn’t using just any sniper rifle,” Su Yun said coldly, her face icy. The enemy’s strength was clearly formidable.

“We’ll stay hidden and take them out,” Su Yun continued, her chilling gaze radiating murderous intent. No matter what, she would eliminate White Skull and the drug lord Park.

“I understand,” Qin Feng replied. Gripping his Type 88 automatic sniper rifle, he scanned ahead swiftly through the scope, searching for their foes.

The enemy was just ahead. He had to destroy them. Between him and them, there could be no surrender—only death.

Meanwhile, White Skull and Park huddled behind a thicket. The border line was in sight, and their hearts surged with excitement. Once they crossed it, the soldiers from China would no longer be able to kill them. Outside the border, those soldiers could do nothing.

“White Skull, the border’s just ahead,” Park whispered, his voice trembling with excitement. His eyes shone with joy; he knew that once he crossed, he’d be safe. With all his money, he could live as he pleased—no Chinese special forces or anyone else could touch him.

“Yes, be careful. I’ll cover you. Run ahead,” White Skull said, his voice devoid of emotion. He knew withdrawal was necessary, but retreating would not be easy. The Chinese soldiers were no fools; their ability to track them spoke of exceptional skill.

“White Skull, if you get me across the border, the payment will double,” Park promised.

“Agreed. Now, go,” White Skull’s eyes flashed with a sharp light. For a hefty reward, he was willing to take risks, moving on stealthily with Park.

“If we keep hiding, they’ll escape. I propose we go on the offensive—I’ll draw their fire, you shoot,” Qin Feng suggested to Su Yun nearby. He knew the border was just ahead. Waiting might let the enemy slip away, and these men had killed his comrades. He wouldn’t let them escape; he would avenge his brothers.

“Alright,” Su Yun replied, watching the front intently through her scope.

Taking a deep breath, Qin Feng’s eyes hardened with resolve. Hesitation now might let White Skull and Park escape.

Clutching his Type 88 rifle, he darted forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, firing a shot toward where White Skull might be.

Bang! A shot rang out, carrying Qin Feng’s rage, roaring forward. He wasn’t sure he’d hit his target. Quickly, he shifted positions, knowing his shot might reveal him. That single bullet would be enough for White Skull to aim at him—he might well be hit.

Qin Feng was right. White Skull was indeed a master sniper. As soon as Qin Feng fired, White Skull spotted him through the Barrett M82A1’s scope—a young man, the same one he’d targeted earlier by the river, but failed to kill. Now, White Skull wouldn’t miss the chance. He suspected a female soldier might still be nearby, but his confidence was unshakable. He believed he could kill the young man and still evade danger.

Bang! Another bullet exploded forth, White Skull’s fury tearing through the air, whistling straight at Qin Feng.

At the same moment, Qin Feng sensed intense danger. He spotted White Skull and fired without hesitation.

Whizz! A bullet screamed toward White Skull.

Qin Feng didn’t know if he’d hit him. He felt the enemy’s bullet streaking toward him and dove quickly to the side.

Thud! Qin Feng felt the impact of a bullet—he spat blood. The surroundings were beautiful: leaves falling, a tranquil setting. If he died here, at least it was a lovely place, though it was regrettable—he couldn’t avenge his comrades.

Bang! The next moment, Qin Feng collided with something, regaining a bit of consciousness. He reached out and found himself leaning against a large tree, his senses returning. He quickly checked his chest, where his Type 88 rifle rested—on the stock, a bullet fragment was embedded. In the critical moment, he’d used the gunstock to shield his chest. He’d dodged, then crashed into the tree.

Beside him, a tree as thick as a bowl had been snapped in half. Qin Feng felt lucky—had White Skull aimed a bit more precisely, he’d be a cold corpse now.

“Are you alright?” Su Yun called out.

“I’m fine,” Qin Feng answered, raising his Type 88 and scanning ahead through the scope. He saw a body lying on the ground, blood pouring out, red and white matter splattering. It was White Skull—clearly dead.

“White Skull is down?” Qin Feng asked in astonishment.

“Yes, you killed him,” Su Yun replied coldly. She too was surprised—how had Qin Feng dodged and killed White Skull? That shot had seemed ethereal, not something an ordinary person could achieve. Yet Qin Feng had done it; it was incredible.

“Excellent, White Skull is finally finished,” Qin Feng said, elated. But he quickly calmed himself and asked, “What about Park?”

“He’s ahead, at nine o’clock. He’s nearly at the border. Take aim, fire at will,” Su Yun instructed.

“Got it,” Qin Feng replied. He focused his scope on the nine o’clock direction and spotted a man—Park, racing toward the border.

“Even if you’re far away, if you harm China, justice will find you,” Qin Feng swore to himself.

He took aim, ordering himself to remain calm. Park was not an ordinary man—he could sense even the slightest killing intent and dodge, making him hard to kill.

“The border line, I’m almost out of China,” Park thought joyfully. Just ten meters left—he could see the border ahead. White Skull forgotten, all he wanted was to cross quickly.

Ten meters, nine, eight, six, five… one.

Just one meter remained. Park’s eyes shone with joy as he sprinted.

Bang! Bang! Two shots rang out. Park’s head and chest were struck, blood and matter spraying. Only one meter left—one final step—but that single step was denied him, and he collapsed, unable to escape.

“Chinese soldiers… truly formidable,” Park murmured, falling to the ground. Life faded from him, his last thought was admiration for the strength of his pursuers.