Chapter 80: Battle in the Jungle (Part Four)

As the sun was about to set, Chen Erpao once again ran to the place where he had dug traps. This time, however, he stumbled upon an unexpected prize—a mercenary with an injured foot, lying on the ground, resting. Quiet as a shadow, Chen Erpao crept up swiftly. With a sharp crack, the mercenary was sent forever into the realm of dreams. Chen Erpao stripped him of his submachine gun and all the bullets, claiming them as his own.

“Hm, the sound of water—could there be a stream nearby?” Chen Erpao listened carefully for the direction of the water, then darted like a phantom toward it.

Soon, a small river about five meters wide appeared before his eyes. The water was crystal clear, revealing the pebbles beneath, and small fish, no bigger than a palm, glided lazily by. The earth at the riverbank was slightly damp; every step left a distinct, conspicuous footprint. Chen Erpao pondered, then ran downstream for dozens of meters, leaving a trail of footprints behind him, before jumping into the river with a splash, swimming to the other side.

He concealed himself in a thicket of wild grass, aiming his AK-47 at the spot across the river where he had just appeared. Fortunately, there was still some barbecued snake meat left. Though soaked by the river, it remained delicious. Chen Erpao focused intently on the opposite bank, chewing on python meat to replenish his strength.

“Captain, look at these footprints! The target definitely ran downstream!” A booming voice rang out, and the remaining seven mercenaries appeared at the riverbank.

Chen Erpao gave a cold smile, python meat still in his mouth, then sprang to his feet. In an instant, his AK-47 spat fire, a hail of bullets raining down on the unsuspecting mercenaries.

“Aaargh…” Three different screams echoed in succession. Two men fell directly into the river, dyeing the pristine water a blood-red.

Mas, enraged, bared his teeth and dropped to the ground, immediately returning fire toward Chen Erpao’s position. Chen Erpao, his surprise attack a success, wasted no time, darting off in another direction. Their firepower was too fierce; all he could do now was rely on his extraordinary speed and reflexes to gradually wear down their bullets. After such a long pursuit, their ammunition must be running low. In close combat, Chen Erpao feared no one—mercenary or foreigner alike, he would kill without hesitation.

A day and night passed; Chen Erpao had exhausted all his bullets, and so had the mercenaries. Only then did they realize their opponent had simply been depleting their ammunition, but they were not worried. Seven against one—victory seemed assured.

Now, Chen Erpao’s only usable weapon was the three-edged military dagger. After running for so long, he happened upon a foolish little wild boar. Starving, he put the dagger to use, and though roasted wild boar was not as tasty as python, it was still a feast.

Chen Erpao chose another wild patch of grass and began to set traps of various sizes and designs. Mas’s group would not foolishly stumble into them, but with someone around to distract them, it would be a different story.

“One, two…” After setting five traps, Chen Erpao hurriedly marked them all, then climbed a nearby tree, waiting quietly for the enemy’s arrival.

Nearly half an hour later, the mercenaries appeared in view. Chen Erpao stayed hidden among the branches, observing them through the foliage.

“Captain, there are plenty of traces here. He must have been here not long ago.” Mas glanced around, not falling for the trick this time. He chose to go around by several meters and continue the pursuit. Chen Erpao was not concerned; he had expected this, which was why he hid atop a tree in the open—Mas’s vigilance would surely bring him this way.

Chen Erpao watched the mercenaries pass directly beneath him. When the last man was about to pass the tree, he swooped down suddenly. The mercenary tried to look up, but a flash of cold light swept across his neck, spraying blood into the air.

“Hey, you foreign devils, come kill me if you dare! Today, Brother Erpao will give you a proper welcome—none of you will leave alive!” Chen Erpao shouted, kicking the dead mercenary’s head like a football.

Mas and his men snapped to attention, realizing they were down one comrade, and the enemy they had been chasing was boldly shouting behind them. Shame and rage surged within them.

“After him!” With a shout, the six remaining mercenaries spread out and charged.

Chen Erpao grinned coldly, leading them toward his traps. The traps were densely arranged, with only a narrow, safe strip wide enough for passage. He had marked it well, slipped through safely, and continued running ahead, cursing loudly to draw their attention.

The mercenaries, burning with fury, thought only of quickly ending the man who had caused them so much trouble, paying no mind to their footing. As they passed the trap zone, splashes and anguished cries rang out. From a distance, Chen Erpao watched two mercenaries die instantly; one reacted quickly but was left crippled.

Now, only three mercenaries retained any fighting strength. Chen Erpao had no intention of running anymore—the time for final reckoning had come. He would avenge his fallen brothers.

Mas’s eyes widened in fury. This battle, nearly two days and nights long, was the most desperate, most brutal he had ever fought. His comrades—all brothers in arms, elite fighters—had fallen one by one to this man, and now the hunter had become the hunted.

“Who are you, really? You’re not just some up-and-coming talent from Hong Kong as they say. To possess such extraordinary skill and mastery of jungle warfare…” Mas spoke as he drew a military knife from his belt, similar to Chen Erpao’s three-edged dagger. The other two did the same.

Chen Erpao licked the blood from his dagger; the enemy’s blood was the best fuel for his resolve.

“I am Chen Erpao, former member of the Special Forces of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army. Apologies, I once held the title ‘King of Kings’ among soldiers. In competitions against Western special forces, I defeated several so-called champions. And to say it again, jungle warfare is my specialty—it’s as if fate designed it for someone like me.”

“Very well, very well,” Mas said three times, “Today, let us truly witness the so-called ‘King of Kings’.”

With that, he and the other two attacked from three directions, coordinating with practiced skill in close combat. But to Chen Erpao, it was nothing—together, they were not as formidable as the Black and White Twins. Moreover, since Chen Erpao had attained the first level of Nirvana Saint, he was a changed man.

“Kill!” Only the blood of his enemies could repay his brothers’ deaths. The three-edged dagger flashed through the air, leaving afterimages as it clashed with the enemy.

Mas was the strongest among the three, his attacks fast, ruthless, and precise, targeting Chen Erpao’s vital spots with his teammates’ support. Yet every attempt was futile.

Chen Erpao moved like lightning, swifter than ever, circling the three. With a seeming stumble, he dodged Mas’s fierce strike, retreating unsteadily. The other two saw an opening and lunged in.

Suddenly, a faint cold smile curled Chen Erpao’s lips. The two mercenaries sensed danger, but it was too late.

“Die!” The seemingly flustered, unstable Chen Erpao transformed in an instant into a god of war, surging forward with blinding speed, slipping between the two.

Startled, the men tried to react, but pain seared their waists. Looking down, they saw deep, bloody gashes; blood poured out rapidly.

Mas’s hair stood on end, wild with rage. His knife cut again and again, clashing with the three-edged dagger in midair.

Chen Erpao attacked relentlessly, slowly guiding the battle toward the traps. Sensing the right moment, he unleashed a storm of blows, overwhelming Mas, who could barely defend and kept retreating.

“Captain, look out!” The mercenary wounded by the traps shouted urgently, startling Mas. He glanced nervously at the ground less than ten centimeters behind him, realizing a misstep would mean certain death.

“Down you go!” Chen Erpao poured all his strength into his right arm, delivering a ferocious strike at Mas’s head. Mas, drenched in cold sweat, hastily raised his knife to block. But there was no metallic clang—Chen Erpao’s hand shifted in a flash, his wrist twisting, and the downward strike became a thrust.

Mas stared in disbelief at the dagger plunged into his throat, his mouth opening to speak, but no words came. His tall body toppled straight into the trap, and was instantly impaled by countless wooden spikes. One spike pierced through the back of his head and out his mouth.

“Captain…” The three wounded, yet still living mercenaries, gazed mournfully at Mas’s gruesome corpse, a wave of sorrow washing over them. Killers either kill or are killed; mercenaries are no different. Without strength, they are destined to be whetstones for others.

Chen Erpao showed no mercy, dispatching them one by one. His body drenched in blood, he became a man of crimson—a beast in the depths of the mountain.