Strongest Soldier King

Moonlight, like liquid silver, hung high in the sky, showering the courtyard and casting diminishing shadows from the buildings, leaving fewer dark corners to hide in. Luo Zheng crouched at a corner and carefully observed the surroundings for a while. Things were unexpectedly smooth; most of the force had gone in pursuit of the scholar and his companions, leaving the main armed presence guarding the entrance. About a dozen men were stationed in the backyard, with both forces focused outwardly, paying no attention to the inside of the courtyard.

Within the courtyard, wounded soldiers were still queuing up for treatment, with a dozen or so at the door and another twenty or so inside the room. Thirty to forty wounded soldiers waited anxiously, the cost of their injuries making them uneasy. Morale was low, and tempers were frayed; they wished nothing more than to receive immediate treatment and paid no mind to the situation within the courtyard.

The courtyard was like an unguarded back garden, open for Luo Zheng to come and go as he pleased. It must be said that the Wild Wolf Mercenary Group was very vigilant, confining the farmer in an inconspicuous shed. Who could have expected that? Furthermore, for safety, they stationed an expert as a guard who could call for the assistance of other armed personnel at the slightest noise. It seemed very secure, but unfortunately, they encountered Luo Zheng, whose thinking leaped bounds and whose actions were unpredictable. He cleverly assassinated the lookout.

In a dark corner, Luo Zheng took a deep breath, controlled his emotions, and then strode toward the medical treatment room. The condition of the scholar and the others was unknown, and the main forces of the Wild Wolf Mercenary Group and the East Yi Yun Members could arrive at any moment. He had to find the medicines before they arrived; otherwise, the farmer's leg injury would cause serious trouble. With time, that leg might become completely useless.

Taking advantage of the chaotic scene, Luo Zheng joined the end of the queue, straightened his black robe, and after ensuring his disguise was intact, he gritted his teeth and headed toward the entrance. Time waited for no man, and Luo Zheng did not dare to wait too long. He had just reached the entrance when a wounded soldier waiting there scolded him angrily for cutting in line. Luo Zheng didn't understand a single word; with an agile step, he squeezed past, pushing the other aside and stepping through the door.

The wounded soldiers waiting behind him saw someone cutting in line and shouted in anger, the scene devolving into chaos. Some even cocked their guns. With their lives at stake, no one was willing to let others skip ahead. Luo Zheng had no choice and no time to queue. Even if he waited his turn, his cover would be blown. Not understanding the language, he had no option but to force his way through.

After squeezing through the door, Luo Zheng saw many injured men lying in the room, some being assisted with IV drips, others anxiously laboring on operating tables that were nothing more than office desks. Conditions were crude, everything simplified. It was a surprise to see a skilled surgeon who was clearly trained by the East Yi Yun Members, judging by his appearance.

The East Turkestan Movement had developed over decades and had become a force to be reckoned with, with their own medical team, which wasn't surprising. Luo Zheng didn't dwell on this. His cold eyes scanned the counter, where various medicines were laid out. He stepped forward, grabbed a syringe, took a bottle of sodium chloride, and noticed alcohol, gauze, Penicillin, and even a bottle of Yunnan Baiyao, a medicine Luo Zheng was all too familiar with – a wonder drug used by the army for reducing inflammation, clearing bruises, promoting flexibility, and healing injuries.

An annoyed voice came from the side, along with a pat on the shoulder. Luo Zheng turned to see a doctor in a white coat. At the sight of him, shock covered the doctor's face, suspicion clearly setting in. A cold glint flashed in Luo Zheng's eyes; there was no retreat, no avoidance. Luo Zheng went all out, his M9 bayonet striking like lightning, while his other hand pocketed the bottle of Yunnan Baiyao.

"Pfft!" Blood spurted like an arrow, the doctor in the white coat clutching his throat, making wheezing noises, his complexion turning deathly pale, his eyes filled with fear and unwillingness.

Luo Zheng had no concern for the life and death of the man as he stuffed the gauze, syringe, and Penicillin into his pocket. Hearing the dense footsteps and furious shouts behind him, his iron-blue face erupted with a wild killing intent. Like an arrow shot from a bow with no turning back, to stay alive, he had only one choice—kill!

"Da da da!" Luo Zheng pulled the trigger without hesitation. The angry bullets, filled with Luo Zheng's boundless killing intent and hatred for the enemy, roared out and toppled one enemy after another, tearing them apart.

The sudden change caught everyone by surprise. After Luo Zheng took down five or six men in one breath, the AK47 in his hand didn't stop firing. He aimed at the wounded soldiers flooding in through the door and continued his hail of bullets. As for the wounded and doctors lying in the hospital beds, unarmed, they were of no immediate concern.

Close-range spray of bullets revealed the terrifying penetration and destructive power of the AK47 in full display. The 7.62 millimeter bullets created huge bloody holes in the bodies they hit, leaving no hope for survival. Even if the bullets didn't hit vital spots, the victims would bleed to death.

Luo Zheng watched coldly as one enemy after another fell, his resolute face unchanging, his eyes filled with nothing but slaughter. His mind harbored only one thought—kill everyone in his sight. He silently counted the bullets left in the magazine and, when it was almost empty, he controlled the AK47 with one hand, continuing to fire, while decisively reaching for another magazine with the other hand.

The last bullet fired with a crisp empty click. Luo Zheng quickly ejected the spent magazine and deftly inserted a new one, re-armed it in less than a second, and his gun resumed firing without missing a beat. With thirty bullets in a magazine and only a dozen or so people in line, as soon as Luo Zheng intervened, they all poured in and just happened to be stuck at the door, almost entirely wiped out by a single magazine.

The bullets from the newly loaded magazine pounced on the people standing in the room, fierce and unstoppable like a tiger or cheetah. The most unlucky were those who attempted to reach for guns in the corner. The East Yi Yun Members were poorly trained to begin with, and with injuries, their mobility was hindered and combat effectiveness low, negligible threats. The doctors were non-combatants, with even less capability to fight. Witnessing this terrifying scene, they all panicked, scrambling to hide, no one daring to step forward to stop it.

After emptying one magazine, Luo Zheng swiftly replaced it with a new one but didn't open fire again. His cold gaze swept over the scene, and seeing everyone lying in pools of blood, he breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, a crisp gunshot from outside startled him. Could it be that the enemy's main force had returned?

Gripping his gun tightly, Luo Zheng took a quick step to the doorway. When he saw a dozen or so people rushing through the courtyard entrance, with the lead man shot dead, he turned his head in surprise. It was a farmer, probably attracted by the sound of gunfire. Luo Zheng made a gesture to indicate he was fine, and then the muzzle, filled with the scent of death, aimed once more at the enemies streaming in from outside.

"Da da da!" The AK47 roared to life again. Being hunted by the Wild Wolf Mercenary Group had left Luo Zheng with a surge of resentment, and at that moment, he vented it all out. His wrathful killing intent merged with the bullets, laying low the oncoming enemies with unstoppable force.