Strongest Soldier King

The pursuers were too close for comfort, and amid the torrential downpour, Luo Zheng dared not stop and continued to run, his face iron blue as he tied the safety ring of a grenade to a slender vine. Once everything was ready, he veered to the side, kicking his foot out to leave a deep trace on the ground. Luo Zheng cast a cold glance around him, quickly devising a plan. He approached a bush, hung the grenade on a branch, and stretched out the vine, securing it in place.

After setting the trap, Luo Zheng drew his military dagger and chopped off a branch, sharpening both ends, and planted it along the path he had traveled. Then, without looking back, he quickly disappeared into the storm.

Soon, the enemy caught up, spotting the sharpened branch standing upright on the ground, its pointed end defiantly reaching for the sky amidst the wind and rain, seemingly mocking them. Enraged by the sight, the pursuers suspected something was amiss and dared not approach it directly, opting instead to spread out to either side.

The lead pursuer, passing through the bushes, didn't feel his lower leg brush against the thin vine, and the soft sound of the grenade falling to the ground was almost imperceptible amidst the heavy rain. The following comrades, seeing that their forerunners had passed without incident, also cautiously followed the footprints ahead.

The scent of gunpowder spread through the rain, and those accustomed to walking the razor's edge of life and death sensed something amiss, halting, their senses on high alert as they surveyed their surroundings. The open space offered nowhere to hide; besides the obvious trees, there was only the sparse underbrush.

Suddenly, someone with keen eyesight noticed something dark hissing in the scraggly bushes, pausing in surprise. As they realized what it was, their eyes shot open, a buzz exploded in their head, and they froze in shock. Before them, the black object burst into a massive red light.

"Ah—" Screams filled the air as the pursuers had no time to avoid the shrapnel flying wildly in all directions. Bodies were torn apart, limbs were shredded, blood was scattered; the ground was filled with groaning wounded. Those arriving at the scene were shocked into stillness, each quickly dropping to the ground, not daring to move.

Fox Wolf arrived on the scene, his face iron blue with rage in his eyes. Upon reaching the branch, he angrily pulled it from the ground. Believing that the land beneath might also conceal mines, the terror-stricken pursuers wrapped their hands around their heads, cowering on the ground. Infuriated, Fox Wolf marched forward and beat the cowardly pursuers with the branch.

Seeing there was no bomb, the pursuers got up, heads bowed, not daring to meet Fox Wolf's eyes. After a stern rebuke from Fox Wolf, they regrouped and continued their furious pursuit. Barely a hundred meters ahead, another identical sharpened branch appeared, its blade edge clear even through the wind and rain, proud like a solitary warrior.

The sight of the branch angered the pursuers, who rushed forward without hesitation. The one in the lead even kicked out, sending the branch flying. Fox Wolf, following up behind and alarmed by the scene, sought to stop them, but it was too late. With a pounce, he hit the ground, and the people behind him, seeing Fox Wolf's alarm, were equally frightened and dropped to the ground.

"Boom! Boom!" Two loud explosions knocked down a swath of angered pursuers. Limbs and flesh flew in disarray. A mercenary with a leg blown off lay on the ground screaming in agony, issuing hysterical cries for help. Another, with his belly torn open and intestines spilling out, writhed on the ground in pain, like a cooked shrimp uncontrollably rolling about.

A red glow suddenly appeared, and as the gun smoke cleared, the tragic scene thoroughly shocked the pursuers. Fox Wolf slowly stood up, his face as terribly grim as to inspire fear, with blood-red eyes glaring into the depths of the rain-drenched forest, nearly spewing fire in his anger. Indifferent to the rain sliding down his eyebrows, his icy visage grew even more murderous.

When had the Wild Wolf Mercenary Group ever suffered such a loss? If they did not avenge this insult, where would the honor of the Wild Wolf Mercenary Group lie? Fox Wolf's granite-like face twitched, muscles around his mouth jerked, he sniffed powerfully through his nose, then suddenly, he grinned with a bone-chilling coldness, like Death God himself, and bellowed fiercely, "Follow me closely, watch your steps, go."

"Go, go," the surrounding men jostled forward, but having been scared by two bomb explosions, no one dared to run recklessly. Seeing Fox Wolf charge ahead, leading the way, their courage swelled somewhat this time, and they followed the trail he had taken, fearing that a single misstep would cost them dearly. In the storm, they formed a long line.

The wind howled through the trees, which rustled loudly in the storm. Many branches were blown chaotically, appearing helpless and weak under the torrential rain, as were the terrified pursuers. Fox Wolf glanced back at his men, his face a portrait of bitter fury. His rage reached a boiling point, he clenched his fists, and the muscles in his exposed arms bulged like hard, cold buns covered with worm-like veins, as if immense strength was about to burst forth from within.

His icy eyes saw another branch stuck in the ground up ahead, stubbornly standing tall amidst the wind and rain, like a strong warrior. Fox Wolf felt as though his dignity was being challenged. He flew into a towering rage, surveyed his surroundings, and once he was sure there was no danger, he lashed out with his foot, kicking the branch away. It tumbled through the rainy air, making whooshing sounds as if someone were laughing in mockery.

"Aaah—I'm going to kill you," Fox Wolf completely lost it, murderous intent boiling over on his frosty face. He let the storm lash at him, eyes wide and unblinking, lips pressed together into a blade-like line. His pace quickened unnaturally, and the pursuers behind, wary of Fox Wolf's formidable might, followed tremulously but kept a distance, just in case.

One hundred meters later, another branch appeared on the ground, almost identical to the last one—in size, length, and solitary defiance against the storm. Seeing Fox Wolf kick the branch away, everyone secretly breathed a sigh of relief. But when they caught sight of the deadly coldness in his eyes as he turned back, a shiver ran down their spines, and they hurried forward as if falling into an icy cavern, blood seeming to freeze in their veins, their faces pale with fear.

After another hundred meters, yet another branch appeared. In his anger, Fox Wolf did not even bother with it, simply bypassing it to continue his charge. His strong, forceful steps splattered mud and water, and he quickly gained a lead of over a dozen meters.

The pursuers followed and, seeing that their companions were unharmed, they quickened their pace. Annoyed, someone kicked the branch away vehemently, laughing triumphantly, completely unaware of the wisps of smoke rising from underneath it, faint and hidden by the rain. The pursuers hurried forward until an explosive "boom" sounded.

Hearing the blast, Fox Wolf muttered a curse, stopped dead, and turned back—his face turned pale. The troop had been too tightly clustered; the massive explosion claimed the lives of a dozen or so men, and those not killed instantly let out piercing screams in the storm. The rest of the troop hit the ground, seeking cover, panic-stricken faces revealing the crumbling morale amid successive blasts.