Slaughter in Blood and Fire!

Not counting the Great Horned Rat's little minions, twenty-three people in total decided to stay behind: twenty heavy infantrymen from the Jungle Corps, plus the "Three Pillar Gods" of Dust Town. Generally speaking, if there was no vast disparity in equipment, humans stood virtually no chance against mutants in equal numbers given their massive HP pools, base armor, and regenerative abilities. Even an even clash of five hundred versus five hundred would be grueling beyond belief, to say nothing of twenty-three against five hundred. A head-on clash on an open battlefield left virtually no room for maneuver, unlike guerrilla skirmishes where one could kite and draw the enemy out. As Lao Bai had said, this was practically suicide. Yet whether rat or lizard, a ferocious fighting spirit burned in their eyes. They felt not the slightest dread toward the impending slaughter. Death was merely a destination— They were all immortal heroic spirits. Stepping in front of Lao Bai, Scavenger, clad in his Hunter exoskeleton, spoke solemnly. "We're leaving those residents in your hands." If the houses were destroyed, they could be rebuilt. As long as the people who remembered them were still alive. Lao Bai nodded earnestly. "I promise you that when you return, you won't have lost a single believer. Every last one will still be here." Scavenger grinned. "Heh, I'll hold you to that." With that, he waved a claw and swaggered off to join his brothers from the Jungle Corps. The group parted ways, marching in the opposite direction of the main caravan. Watching Scavenger's towering, burly back, Qin Baitian hesitated for a moment before he finally could not help asking, "My lord... will the Great Horned Deer God not be coming with us?" Lao Bai squinted toward the direction in which the squad was departing. "He has a mission to fulfill. You will see him again." Qin Baitian let out a bitter sigh. Old though he was, he was not senile. No matter how formidable that lord might be, they were facing five hundred mutants. Living here over the years, he had heard tales of a single mutant slaughtering half a village. Those words about seeing him again... He feared they were merely cold comfort, better than nothing. ... Amidst the sprawling convoy, Oge sat in an open-top off-road vehicle, staring fixedly at the northern wasteland. A light of hatred gleamed in his bloodthirsty pupils. Olu was his brother, and also his father. According to the old priest who had delivered him, they had both been born in the same tent, from the very same human mother. Such a circumstance was extraordinarily rare within mutant tribes. Few humans survived that long. Even Awakened mostly died by their seventh or eighth year, after which the butchers carried them off to the kitchen. Perhaps because the human who had birthed him possessed remarkable strength herself, he could clearly feel that he was distinct from the other kin born alongside him into this world. More powerful muscles, quicker reflexes, and a sturdier constitution... At the age of seven, he had earned the favor of a centurion and was assigned to the same hunting party as his brother, becoming a tribal hunter. Perhaps due to their shared bloodline, his brother looked after him with special care, taking him along no matter what they did. His first hunt, his first taste of human flesh, his first village massacre, his first commendation and honorary naming from the chief, his first cybernetic modification... It could be said that every major milestone of his life had been achieved under Olu's watchful gaze. Yet Olu was dead. And his death had been gruesome beyond measure. When Oge saw the corpse, he had wished he could grind his own teeth to dust, swearing in his heart that he would use the cruellest torment imaginable until the human who killed his brother drew his final breath. Therefore, when he learned from the chief that his brother's killer was hiding in a settlement called Dust Town, and received permission to butcher the entire village, every cell in his body trembled with excitement. He could already envision those vile, cowardly, scrawny two-legged cattle trembling on their knees beneath his boots. Ah, what a hideous sight it would be... What burned in his eyes was not just hatred and fury, but a layer of manic exhilaration. "Faster!" Oge bellowed at the top of his gravelly voice. Receiving the order, the mutant in the driver's seat snatched the walkie-talkie hanging from the center console and barked an excited shout into the comm channel. "Oge says faster!" Coarse roars echoed across the comms. "Oge!!" The wheels of every vehicle spun faster, while the mutant foot soldiers trailing behind panted and pounded the earth with all their might. Slobber flew wildly from their jowls, and before long, several fell out of formation, wheezing heavily. It was always like this on every deployment. There were always a few brainless small fry who couldn't squeeze onto the trucks and couldn't keep up with the march, eventually wandering off who knew where, occasionally dragging back an unlucky man or woman to prove they hadn't slacked off or deserted. None of that mattered, though. Tribe Qi had never relied on limp-legged stragglers, but on true warriors! At that moment, the green beasts failed to notice that a squad of heavily armed players was already lying in ambush along their inevitable route. Inside the forest. Watching the sprawling convoy out on the plains through his binoculars, Piltover Paratrooper clicked his tongue. "Damn... how the hell do these beasts run so fast?" Back on Earth, the world record for a forty-two-kilometer marathon had only just broken the two-hour mark, but to mutants, maintaining such a pace seemed like second nature. Their tremendous cardiopulmonary capacity granted them horrifying endurance; they had covered four-fifths of a fifty-kilometer trek in under two hours! And that was across trackless, open wilderness. Observing the vast cloud of dust kicked up on the plains via a drone feed, Model Prone Crawler spoke grimly. "They're starting to slow down." Piltover Paratrooper frowned. "Did they spot us?" Xiao Xiao Xiao Bookworm shook his head. "No, it's probably standard tactical doctrine—conserving stamina before engaging the enemy... I wonder if they'll take a brief rest." Pausing for a beat, he continued. "If they don't plan on resting before pushing forward, right now is our best chance to strike." "Mm..." Midnight Chicken Slayer gave a steady nod and raised his right fist. "Execute as planned." Sparks of excitement ignited in every pair of eyes, and unified confirmations quickly crackled over the comm channel. "Roger!" The hunt had begun! The twenty players split into five fireteams, swiftly maneuvering along the tree line to the front of the mutants' path, fanning out in an outward-facing arc. One of the anti-tank teams pushed forward. Four players, including the team leader, brought up RPG launchers and locked onto the advancing convoy. Waiting quietly until the targets entered effective range, Midnight Chicken Slayer barked into the comm channel: "Fire!!" The instant the order dropped, all four players pulled their triggers almost simultaneously. Rockets trailing thick, billowing plumes of white smoke roared toward the distant convoy. There was almost no time to react. The lead truck took a direct hit. Explosions blossomed through the column, and three trucks stalled on the spot. Caught completely off guard, over a dozen trucks slammed on their brakes or swerved wildly, jamming into a tangled heap out on the open plains. If marauders had suffered an ambush so sudden, even if their morale didn't plunge by half, those dazed by the blasts would have hesitated to advance. For bloodthirsty mutants, however, it was an entirely different story. A dozen or so mutants were hurled from the vehicles by inertia. After eating dirt, they scrambled to their feet with foul curses. Those jammed into the cargo beds leaped down in a clamor of guttural shouts, grabbing whatever weapons they could reach and sprinting full-tilt toward the forest. They moved like beasts— Except that they cradled massive-caliber assault rifles in their massive hands. "Charge in!! Kill them all!!" Oge, riding shotgun in the off-road vehicle, roared at the top of his lungs. He slammed the driver's shoulder, swatted the roof gunner aside with a heavy backhand, vaulted into the rear bed, seized the machine gun, and unleashed a wild spray of fire into the woods. Red-hot shell casings clattered into the truck bed, and the muzzle flare illuminated his savage gums and contorted facial muscles. Thick tracer lines wove a deadly net across the plain. He howled like a ravenous beast. "Die!! Hahaha!" A rain of bullets ripped into the forest, splintering thick tree trunks to pieces. The caliber had to be at least .50 or higher! Having fired their opening volley, the players quickly ducked into cover. After relocating, they loosed two more volleys of RPGs before stowing their launchers, drawing their XB-1 Howler boltguns, and flipping off the safeties. Seeing that every squad member had reached their combat positions, Midnight Chicken Slayer bellowed at the top of his lungs and pulled his trigger first. "Free fire—!" Muzzle blasts instantly thundered through the woods as long, thick tongues of flame erupted from the foliage. A hail of projectiles collided head-on with the charging mutant infantry, blasting the front-runners off their feet. The massive recoil carved a trench into the soil beneath his boots. Clenching his chattering teeth, Model Prone Crawler hoisted his Howler and yelled in exhilaration: "Holy crap! Brother Chicken! This firepower is ridiculous!" Two bangs for one shot was no exaggeration! Once clear of the barrel, the projectile ignited its secondary booster midair, roaring toward its target trailing a tail of fire. Upon impact, the nose fuze triggered, unleashing a molten jet of metal as hot as magma! This weapon hardly felt like an assault rifle; it was basically a semi-automatic rocket launcher! A charging mutant scout took a round dead-center in the chest. A blistering fireball burst through his back, and before he could even scream, he collapsed lifelessly to the ground. Mutant heavy infantry clad in steel breastplates fared no better. Steel plates as thick as a thumb were effective against standard rifle rounds, but against molten metal jets, they were as flimsy as paper. Sitting in his vehicle, Oge was likewise stunned by the ferocity of this gunfire. A round struck the rear flank of his ride. Fiery shrapnel danced across the back seats, leaving the two mutant warriors behind him howling in agony and searing a burn mark into his own back, sending cold sweat dripping from his forehead. "Damn it! What the hell is that?!" This was the first time he had ever seen a weapon capable of dropping a mutant in a single hit! Fortunately, the rounds did not travel extraordinarily fast; being subsonic, scoring a hit on a rapidly moving vehicle was no easy task. Oge's mind raced. He snatched up the walkie-talkie and barked a series of guttural commands into the channel. Hearing his orders, eight off-road vehicles lowered the drags mounted to their rears and surged ahead of the infantry, weaving across the open plain in an "S" pattern. The towering clouds of dust and what appeared to be artificially generated exhaust not only obscured the vehicles' movements, but also provided dense smoke cover for the charging infantry. Staring at the billowing dust ahead, Midnight Chicken Slayer cursed under his breath. Lao Bai really hadn't been kidding. These mutants were genuinely formidable. Not only did they adapt to battlefield changes with astonishing speed, but they had even learned smoke screen tactics. To a degree, this hindered the Jungle Corps' aim. However— Those green-skinned muscleheads evidently never anticipated that trouble would come from beneath their feet. With all their attention fixed ahead, completely oblivious to what lay underfoot, the mutants leading the charge quickly tripped and ate dirt. They tumbled several times, vanished into the smoke, and tripped up those rushing behind them. "Roar—!" With an enraged bellow, a mutant spat out a mouthful of dirt and struggled to his feet, only to discover in shock and fury that the clumps of dead grass before him had been tied into tight knots. What kind of nonsense was this?! That was not all. Nails were scattered across the turf, tripwires were pegged down, and crude trenches resembling marmot burrows were dug everywhere. Though these traps caused little real damage and were crudely laid, their insult factor was through the roof. With tracer fire screaming overhead, there was no time to think. Every few moments, someone tripped over a trap, followed by pained roars. The mutant century on the far right flank rapidly ground to a halt. Watching the green muscleheads tumble one after another, Qiangren Suonan, lurking behind a thicket, let out an excited squeak. "Charge! Gouge their eyes! Bite their throats! Waste 'em!" Yet contrary to his expectations, his little rat minions paid him no heed; in fact, they could not understand a word he said. Spooked by the sudden intrusion of these green behemoths, several rats still working on the traps squeaked in terror, scrambled out, and bolted in the opposite direction. No matter how loudly a certain Great Horned Rat squeaked and chattered beside them, they completely ignored his commands, intent only on fleeing for their lives. "Damn it! You cowardly little vermin!" Watching his rat underlings scatter in panic, Qiangren Suonan cursed under his breath, though he quickly remembered that they were, in fact, literal rats. "Motherfucker! Can't rely on these guys after all!" Glaring at the mutants scrambling up from the ground, he gritted his teeth, drew the dagger strapped to his waist, and charged forward with a screeching battle cry. "Long live the Administrator!" Startled by a fat rat barely reaching knee height, the newly risen mutant soldier froze for a split second. That momentary hesitation was all Qiangren Suonan needed to close the distance, frantically stabbing at the mutant's calf. "Oof—!" As the blade sliced through flesh, the mutant roared in pain and lashed out with a vicious kick. His boot hit nothing but empty air, and Qiangren Suonan nimbly darted behind him. "Die!!" Taking advantage of the mutant's forward momentum, Qiangren Suonan clamped the dagger in his jaws and scrambled up the giant's left leg using all four paws, clambering onto his back. Seizing the blade, he plunged it savagely into the brute's throat. *Schlick—!* The blade severed an artery, and blood hot as liquid fire sprayed out. The mutant's copper-bell eyes widened as he dropped to his knees. Blood gushed in torrents, and before he even realized what had happened, his breath was cut short. "Ptui! This blood tastes foul as hell!" Spitting on the ground, Qiangren Suonan clamped the dagger in his teeth and leaped down from the dead mutant's shoulder. Yet just as he was about to pounce on another mutant, a massive impact slammed into his flank, tossing him through the air. He rolled across the dirt twice before coming to a stop. The entire right side of his body went completely numb, and the dagger slipped from his mouth. When his senses returned, Qiangren Suonan discovered that his right forelimb down to his belly had been shredded by shrapnel. Had his pain receptors not been muted, the agony alone would have knocked him unconscious. Standing nearby, a mutant soldier racked the forend of his weapon with a cruel sneer. A spent shell casing twice as thick as a thumb ejected from the chamber. "Fuck... a shotgun!" Qiangren Suonan cursed under his breath. Struggling to move his left forelimb, he tugged the pull-ring concealed at his waist, sending a spark hissing into his pouch. Inside sat half a kilogram of high explosives. Perhaps this was the proper way to play a rat. The mutant strode over, reached out with a hand like an iron vise, clamped down on his plump neck, and hoisted him off the ground. Just as the brute was trying to figure out what was up with this fat rat, the creature, which had seemed on the verge of death only a second before, flashed a wicked grin. *Your granddaddy is checking out first.* *The rest—* *Is up to you guys!* Pinching his shrill vocal cords, he shrieked at the top of his lungs: "Long live Lord Administrator!" A brilliant fireball erupted instantly! Missing an arm and his head, his body riddled with countless jagged metal fragments, the mutant collapsed silently to the ground. The blast that tore across the wasteland was like a pebble tossed into a vast lake, quickly swallowed by the surging tide of the enemy offensive. Yet in the eyes of the trembling rat minions, that unremarkable flash shone as brilliantly as a blossoming firework. In that singular moment— Their Great Horned Rat had become the light! "Brother Nan!!" Watching the explosion with bloodshot eyes, Jingjing roared from his prone position in the forest, his index finger welded to the trigger of his Lance. The 20mm cannon belched continuous tongues of fire, sending armor-piercing incendiary tracers tearing through the storm of bullets like sparks dancing on the wind. Yet neither Qiangren Suonan's traps and ambush nor the 20mm Lance in Jingjing's hands could stall the mutants for long. Lurking silently in the forest, the lizard rubbed his razor-sharp claws together. He was waiting for an opening... An opening to dive in and reap the harvest! "Twenty..." Scavenger muttered under his breath. "Even that rat managed to bag two. I have to kill at least twenty!" The final hundred meters vanished in the blink of an eye. After leaving over a hundred corpses behind, the rifle-wielding mutant forces finally breached the forest. The Jungle Corps kept up a steady volume of fire while pulling back, drawing the mutant force deep into the dense, visibility-choked woods. At point-blank range, close enough to smell the enemy's breath, the Howler boltguns with their ten-meter minimum arming distance were rendered useless. In fact, it wasn't just the boltguns— Apart from heavy machine guns or shotguns, nearly all ranged weapons were rendered ineffective when scoring precise headshots became nearly impossible! Naturally, the same applied to the mutants. The K-10 Iron Wall exoskeletons provided the twenty Jungle Corps players with exceptionally rugged rigid armor, capable of absorbing ballistic kinetic energy at the cost of plate deformation. Unless one caught two full magazines head-on or took an unlucky hit to a vital seam, dying was actually rather difficult. The enemy clearly understood this. Rather than going prone and trading shots, they absorbed horrific casualties to close the distance and engage the players in melee. Midnight Chicken Slayer acted decisively. Dropping the Howler in his grip, he drew the felling axe mounted on his Iron Wall exoskeleton. Its razor-sharp edge could cleave through a pine trunk as thick as a thigh; it could naturally cleave through a mutant's neck and skull just as easily. Watching a mutant warrior charge toward him, he didn't retreat this time. Instead, he lunged forward with a furious roar, bringing the axe down with crushing force. The vertical chop carried the momentum of a thunderbolt. The mutant soldier had no time to react, never imagining this human would dare fight him hand-to-hand. His skull split wide open on the spot, spraying red and white matter across the dirt and knocking his teeth loose. Kicking the lumbering corpse away, Midnight Chicken Slayer reached behind his back with his left hand and tore free a second axe. His black breastplate was splattered with red and white. Drenched in gore like a forest demon, the two felling axes in his hands radiated a chilling gleam. The mutant warriors rushing nearby froze in their tracks, startled by the sight of this demonic figure. This guy— He was nothing like the prey they had devoured in the past! "Roar—!" Channeling his fear into a battle roar, a heavily armored mutant decurion strode forward, swinging a heavy morningstar with all his might. The howling head of the mace dragged a ferocious gust of wind behind it, its terrifying kinetic energy akin to an artillery shell, as if it could dent the armor plate of a tank. If that blow landed, even if it didn't kill the target, it would leave him a vegetable. Just as the lethal strike was about to cave in the human soldier's face, the decurion's vision blurred, followed instantly by an agonizing, piercing pain tearing up his forearm. The hand clutching the morningstar was sheared clean off by a sweeping horizontal axe strike! "Aaargh—!" Howling in agony, he stumbled back a step. Before he could regain his footing, a ferocious gust of wind slammed toward his face. *Crack—!* A vertical chop crushed yet another skull. And all of this had transpired in the span of a few breaths! "...Two!" Bathed in scalding blood and brain matter, Midnight Chicken Slayer glared at the hesitating mutant warriors with bloodthirsty eyes, unable to contain the savage thrill surging in his throat. "Complete frenzy!!" He roared at the top of his lungs, brandishing both axes as he charged straight into the fray. Staring at the figure bounding toward them with meteoric strides, rare terror washed over the dark green faces. It had always been them chasing down frail, two-legged cattle, watching them stumble through the forest, weeping and begging for mercy. No one had ever dared do what this man was doing—charging head-on instead of running away. This guy was definitely not like the people they used to eat— No. He wasn't human at all! The true hunt had only just begun. The twenty players of the Jungle Corps engaged the green-skinned muscleheads in a brutal, bloody melee. Whirling axe blades functioned like churning meat grinders, reaping one green head after another amid the pungent stench of gunpowder smoke. To the players standing here, chopping necks was no different from chopping trees—both were what they did best. This was the jungle. And this was their home turf!