Chapter Seventy-Eight: If You’re Not Convinced, Let’s Settle It—Who’s Afraid of Whom!

A sudden sound broke the silence—“Splat!”—as the enemy was struck. In that same instant, muscle memory took over and the enemy managed to fire off a shot. It was a reflex, a command issued from the brain to the arm, and a bullet sped straight toward Qin Feng. However, the shot missed its mark by a wide margin, tearing into a nearby tree. The bullet gouged a deep hole in the trunk, but left Qin Feng unharmed.

“Thank goodness,” he thought, his heart pounding with relief. Had he not acted first, the outcome might have been very different. Now that the sense of imminent danger had faded, Qin Feng approached the fallen enemy and saw a pistol still clutched in his lifeless hand. He examined the body and confirmed there was no sign of movement, no struggle left.

“Finally, I’m out of danger,” Qin Feng murmured, exhaling deeply. His focus and caution, along with his knowledge of combat tactics, had served him well—his strength and vigilance had made all the difference.

But then, something caught his eye. He looked closely and noticed the man’s pants were soaked between the legs. Clearly, the enemy had lost control in his final moments, terrified beyond measure. Qin Feng found it almost unbelievable—a man dying after being scared witless, a truly bizarre incident.

“Did he die of fright, or was it something else?” Qin Feng wondered, unable to make sense of it. But he quickly cast aside the thought; there were more pressing matters at hand. He still needed to find his comrades.

Examining the man’s neck, Qin Feng spotted a tattoo—blood-red, shaped like a skull. “So, he’s a member of the Blood Skull Mercenary Corps?” Qin Feng mused. The likelihood seemed high; the fallen man’s combat skills were formidable, and only the Blood Skull Mercenaries possessed such prowess. Ordinary pursuers would not be so capable.

“What are the Blood Skull Mercenaries doing here? Have they come for me?” Qin Feng wondered darkly, troubled by the many questions swirling in his mind. He could not fathom why the Blood Skull Mercenary Corps had appeared in this place.

He suspected the mercenaries were after him specifically. Regardless, Qin Feng would never let the Blood Skull Mercenary Corps off the hook. Between him and them, there was an irreconcilable blood feud—one that would end only with utter destruction.

“Whatever you’re plotting, Blood Skull Mercenaries, you will never succeed,” Qin Feng vowed inwardly. If they came to annihilate him, he would ensure their failure.

He carefully stowed the pistol and drew his Type 88 sniper rifle, then set off at a swift run. He knew he had to get out of here quickly—this spot was far from safe, and if he lingered, the enemy might catch up at any moment.

The sniper rifle’s scope was invaluable, allowing him to scan the surroundings, to keep a close watch for danger and to navigate the dense terrain. The ability to see both near and far gave him a critical edge in this perilous environment.

Dusk quickly descended, clouds gathering until the sky was thick with gloom, threatening rain. In this vast, endless jungle, sudden downpours were nothing out of the ordinary—tropical storms could erupt at any moment.

The darkness pressing in from all sides added to the oppressive air. “Clouds are gathering—it’s going to rain. I’ll need to be careful,” Qin Feng murmured. When the rain fell, the jungle would become even more treacherous, and his only hope of survival would lie in caution and vigilance.

The dangers lurking in the jungle were countless, the threats unpredictable. Quickening his pace, he pressed on, determined to find his brothers.

Qin Feng raced through the tangled undergrowth, moving so quickly he seemed a fleeting shadow, a black flash darting between the trees. To the untrained eye, it would look like a trick of the light, but a closer look would reveal the silhouette of a man, running with uncanny speed.

After more than an hour of relentless running, exhaustion finally set in. Qin Feng slowed, leaned against a tree, and paused to catch his breath.

Just then, he noticed movement in the forest ahead. The undergrowth seemed to tremble, shifting back and forth. “What’s happening?” He wondered, unsure if it was a trick of the eyes. Peering intently, he saw the shaking grow more violent. Amidst the shadows, something green glinted—eyes, gleaming in the darkness, unnervingly bright and menacing.

“What is that?” Qin Feng’s heart skipped a beat, his senses sharpening. He halted, wary, and scrutinized the swaying brush, trying to discern the cause.

It didn’t take long for him to see the truth. “Wolves,” he muttered, astonished. “It’s a pack of wolves.” The realization left him speechless—of all the misfortune, he had stumbled upon a wolf pack in this forsaken place.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced: his earlier encounter with a starving wolf. Now he understood what people meant when they said wolves held grudges.

“It’s true, wolves never forget,” Qin Feng thought, a glint of cold determination in his eyes. These creatures were relentless in their vengeance.

Ordinarily, he would have tried to escape, but this was not an option now. Fleeing from a wolf pack would only mark him as prey, and then they would attack as one. This was not a single wolf, but a pack—at least seven or eight. If they charged together, the danger would be overwhelming.

He knew he could not run. Calmly, he studied the wolves, bracing for the inevitable conflict. Only through strength and sheer will could he hope to overcome them.

“Come then. Let’s see who survives—if you refuse to yield, we’ll settle it with force,” Qin Feng challenged inwardly, eyes blazing with fighting spirit. With the wolves’ savagery before him, there was no way out but battle.

Wolves, once provoked, would either be exterminated or claim their victim. There was no room for compromise—one side had to fall.

“I’ve never faced a wolf pack before. Looks like today I’ll find out whether I can handle them,” Qin Feng thought, his mind steady. He knew the situation was perilous, but the greater the danger, the more crucial it was to confront it head-on. Only by facing the threat could he hope to survive.