Chapter Twenty-Nine: Night of Slaughter

Ji Cheng moved along the river valley, constantly adjusting his direction according to the data displayed on his wrist computer. Thanks to this method, he had not encountered another mutated animal so far.

It wasn’t that he was timid; it was simply that collecting communicators was now his top priority. As for fighting mutated animals, that could wait until he became a power wielder.

“I wonder where those guys are hiding. So hard to find,” Ji Cheng’s sharp eyes swept incessantly through the forest.

Bang.

A barely audible gunshot echoed in the dense woods.

The lynx gene prototype had enhanced Ji Cheng’s senses, making him instinctively aware of danger. He quickly shifted his head, and a pistol bullet whizzed past his neck, close enough for him to almost smell the scorched air as the metal rushed by.

The bullet struck a twisted branch as thick as an arm, snapping it clean in half.

Ji Cheng dove forward, but no second shot followed. He had no time to be surprised; trusting his instincts, he fired back toward the faint gunshot.

Bang!

The vulture’s weapon was louder, but all that followed was a dull thud as the bullet struck a tree trunk.

He missed. Ji Cheng was preparing to find cover when suddenly a hand grabbed him fiercely from behind, clutching at his jaw. At the same time, a flash of cold steel—a hand-forged alloy combat knife—appeared before his eyes.

“I actually got ambushed up close?” A flicker of delight passed through Ji Cheng’s eyes. “How did he sneak up so close?”

The hand targeting his jaw was skilled, aiming precisely for the junction of jaw and neck. With a hiss, the knife slashed hard across Ji Cheng’s throat.

There was no blood as expected, only the sensation of metal being cut. The attacker paused in confusion, but Ji Cheng wasted no time. He seized the knife-wielding hand and twisted it forcefully, the limb contorting to an impossible angle.

“Ah…”

As the attacker cried out in pain, Ji Cheng calmly turned to face him, meeting a face contorted with agony and madness.

His arm twisted, body angled sideways.

“Die!” the man screamed, turning to face Ji Cheng directly. His arm broke with an audible snap, but he seemed oblivious, using all his strength to drive his knee into Ji Cheng.

He believed that breaking his own arm would catch Ji Cheng off guard, causing him to lose balance.

---

Slap.

He didn’t strike Ji Cheng’s body. Instead, their knees collided—Ji Cheng’s instantly darkened, hard as a weapon.

The man’s face drained of color, as pale as a corpse.

He now knew what it felt like for flesh and bone to crash against steel.

With the sound of bones shattering, Ji Cheng raised his hand without hesitation. A half-foot alloy blade sprang from his sleeve, and he drove it into the man’s temple.

Blood dyed the attacker’s hair red as he collapsed, pooling into a lake on the ground.

Ji Cheng did not immediately relax. He listened and observed carefully for some time before shaking the blood from his hand, gazing thoughtfully toward the place where the gunshot had sounded.

“As expected.”

Ji Cheng found a trap-trigger mechanism on the beech tree he had shot. The earlier gunshot had been caused by this device.

The attacker must have been hiding in the thick fog beside the river road, and Ji Cheng’s sudden leap had brought him right into the man’s path.

“Time to collect the spoils.”

Ji Cheng searched the corpse, finding three communicators.

This one must have ambushed quite a few people. Shaking his head, Ji Cheng pressed onward.

Night deepened and the temperature plummeted. A sea breeze swept through the boiling mist, shredding the silence.

Piercing gunshots, screams, the sounds of cutting—all echoed intermittently from every shadowed corner.

Violence erupted everywhere on the dark island.

The beech forest groaned rhythmically, branches raised in a dark shadow. When the wind picked up, the forest looked like a rotting mass, swelling and collapsing, then pressing together again.

Ji Cheng now stood by a ruined water tower. The stone floor, neglected for years, exuded dampness, even thick mats of dark fungi couldn’t block it. Through the soles of his shoes, he felt the chill.

He gazed meaningfully at a corpse already beginning to rot, lost in thought.

“The fourth body. Someone is hunting the contestants.”

---

His voice was calm, his attention focused as he examined closely. “The fatal wound is a laceration. The wound was torn by an unknown object—perhaps some kind of blade—with great force.”

“The wound covers the left cheek, starting below the eye socket, crossing the temple, and extending toward the ear. The deepest part is below the socket, reaching the periosteum.”

Ji Cheng crouched, inspecting the wound. The flesh had turned pale from soaking in muddy water, but the muscle fibers were thick and lively; even as the organs had begun to rot in the humid climate, the muscle still twitched faintly.

He lifted the blood-soaked clothes, discovering a star-shaped bullet hole in the man’s abdomen.

The intestines had spilled from a fist-sized hole in his lower back, reeking foully.

Judging by the wounds, a group had attacked him—perhaps three to five people, working together.

Ji Cheng measured with his hand, reconstructing the attack in his mind:

He must have first been shot in the abdomen from the front. Courageously, he pressed his stomach tight, trying to fight back—his left hand’s position and the loosened holster confirmed it.

But he clearly did not realize how severe his injury was, not until he saw the trumpet-shaped splatters of blood on the ground.

His footprints grew erratic, blood flowing from his fingers and mouth, his body convulsing uncontrollably. Soon, he began to cough violently, expelling blood that stained his shirt.

He tried to escape.

“But he didn’t expect there was more than one attacker. As he turned to flee, another bullet struck from the side, grazing his shin, causing him to stumble, finally collapsing to his knees—one hand clutching his abdomen, the other bracing himself, refusing to fall.”

Ji Cheng moved to the small hollow beside the body. “This is where he collapsed.”

“Another attacker appeared, wielding a blade, hacking viciously at his face.” Ji Cheng mimed the action. “That blow took his life.”

“He fell, blood flooding from his mouth and nose, his breathing ceased.”

A powerful gene prototype injector died here, but died foolishly.

So Ji Cheng thought.