Chapter 123 The Final Battle
December 19, Wednesday, 9 PM.
In the thousands of meters of night sky, a black double-tailed scorpion heavy drone is flying over a certain valley.
“Three Cave Three, target locked, please instruct!”
With the combined operation of thermal imaging equipment below the nose and synthetic aperture radar on the body, in a distant valley, a winding path half-concealed in the jungle is rapidly moving northeast, a pickup truck bouncing along, firmly locked in the crosshairs of the lens.
Receiving the ground attack instructions, with the operational signal from the satellite data link, the mounting bracket on one side of the double-tailed scorpion emitted a slight mechanical sound; a one-kilogram lightweight air-to-ground missile was released, igniting its tail engine a dozen seconds later, racing toward the dark earth with a crimson flame.
In the night, a gray off-road pickup truck is desperately fleeing from a firefight several kilometers behind in the mountain forest.
In the front passenger seat, a frail middle-aged man with blood-red pupils and foam at the corners of his mouth gripped the steering wheel like a desperate outlaw, gritting his teeth, his face frightening.
In the passenger seat, a younger-looking man half-leaned out of the car window, brandishing a Uzi submachine gun, opened fire on a special Dongfeng military vehicle about a hundred meters behind, shouting and screaming, seemingly deranged.
A lightweight air-to-ground missile fell from the sky at nearly the speed of sound, directly rolling into the driver’s cabin from the rear side of the pickup truck. The ten-kilogram high-explosive incendiary warhead turned the entire vehicle into a massive fireball, orange flames leaping as countless burning fragments flew in all directions with the shockwave.
The special Dongfeng military vehicle arrived on the scene a dozen seconds later. Han Jieli, dressed in black combat gear, stepped out with a Type 05 silenced submachine gun, picked up the night vision goggles from his tactical helmet, and slowly approached the wreckage of the burning pickup truck.
Within the charred frame of the front of the vehicle, a half-burned black-blood tribe corpse was faintly visible, while the other formerly arrogant individual was likely long since dismembered by the intense heat and explosion, with no trace left behind.
Even a baron would find it hard to survive under such a direct hit from a high-explosive incendiary warhead.
This is the Dark Front BP team, able to use the most brutal killing methods in modern military civilization without any reservations in open areas, which is also one reason why most black-blood tribes or wandering blood tribes desperately attempt to infiltrate urban residential areas.
The intense heat from the fire made Han Jieli instinctively raise a hand to shield his face, having to take a few steps back before turning his head to the side toward the communicator: “Target has been destroyed… Major Tao, how are things on your end?”
A few seconds later, a reply came from the communicator. Reflected by the flames, Han Jieli showed a slight smile, turning to walk toward the military vehicle while waving.
This was Han Jieli’s fourth achievement in two days of frontline combat, relying on aerial intelligence reconnaissance and ground target guidance; he felt very pleased.
…
Several officers and soldiers from the Dark Front were grouped in threes, forming a circle while vigilantly watching the surrounding dark forest.
“Team Meng, Han Jieli has indicated that the drone has eliminated the fleeing black-blood tribe members; several paths are currently being monitored by the drone.”
Tao Qiaoer walked up behind Meng Huai and reported in a low voice.
“Tao Qiaoer, in this environment, don’t worry about the fleeing opponents; those matters can be left to the intelligence support group, handled by air strikes. Blindly chasing on the ground can easily disperse our forces.”
When encountering the majority of opponents, the aim should be to use firepower to disperse and isolate them, making them lose coordination among themselves, suppressing their advantages in close-combat assaults, and then tackling them individually…
A slightly thinner Meng Huai, dressed in black combat gear, appeared even taller and more proportionate, gently instructing a petite dark arrow female officer next to him.
“I remember.”
Tao Qiaoer quickly nodded, holding a recording pen, showing a convinced smile. “Team Meng, the several defensive lines you established during the day were meant to deliberately lead them along the routes you set, right?”
“Yes. Although the forest terrain can leverage their close-quarters advantages, black-blood and wandering blood tribes involved in infiltration or smuggling won’t initiate combat with us unless absolutely necessary, so we can lay ambushes.”
As Meng Huai glanced at the time on his tactical smartwatch, he said calmly, “Soon, the group we discovered during the day should be approaching here. You take a group to set up an ambush to the east, group two goes north, and I’ll take group three south.”
Tao Qiaoer looked around at her teammates, feeling a bit hesitant. The intelligence indicated at least five unidentified blood tribes; should the nearby second squad close in a bit? You just stay back to command…
Without maintaining a certain distance between squads, encircling them would be impossible… Those operating in this area are merely cannon fodder; real threats wouldn’t force their way across our sightlines. Execute orders!
Meng Huai’s expression remained as indifferent as ever. He pulled the action of his semi-automatic shotgun and strode southward, behind him, two team members merely glanced at Tao Qiaoer before silently following.
…
The VSSM silenced sniper rifle was responsible for mid-range ambushes, while the Type 05 silenced submachine gun handled close-range suppression. The semi-automatic shotgun provided assault firepower.
In the dark subtropical forest, gunfire flickered in patches, occasionally punctuated by the peculiar muffled sounds of suppressed weapons and even extravagant explosions from grenades.
Within about a kilometer of forest, the two squads of dark arrow troops are engaged in a cat-and-mouse game with five or six black-blood clan smugglers. The opponents are of low skill yet provide ample practical experience.
With no knights present, the deadly high-energy infrasound threat is absent. The dense jungle affects the flexibility of the blood tribes’ close-quarters assaults while simultaneously restricting the firepower accuracy of the dark arrow troops.
Both sides waste time in a quick-in-and-out combat mode, but as the encirclement gradually shrinks, the advantage begins to slowly shift toward the dark arrow troops.
“Group two of squad one reports, one kill!”
“Group one of squad two reports, one kill!”
Tao Qiaoer’s communicator continued to relay good news; so far, four black-blood tribe members had been eliminated within the encircled area, all of them blood servants.
There had been no casualties on their side; after administering anti-blood immunity agents, even ordinary blood-type soldiers in the support squad had over a fifty percent probability of resisting infection.
Tao Qiaoer appeared quite excited. Although it wasn’t her first participation in the Southwest Wheel War, it was her first time commanding a nighttime jungle encounter battle as the main commander.
“Group three of squad one, report status. Three group… Team Meng, can you hear me? How’s it looking on your side?”
Tao Qiaoer pressed the communicator, sending out two inquiries, as she had yet to receive any reports from group three of squad one by this point.
Silence filled the communicator, as if the signal had been cut off. A surge of intense unease rose in Tao Qiaoer’s heart as she turned her head toward the south; just minutes earlier, she could still faintly hear gunfire from that direction.
…
In the thick jungle, aside from those equipped with thermal imaging night vision goggles, ordinary people could hardly move here.
The three members of squad one, group three formed a tactical defense formation in a ‘T’ shape, spaced seven to eight meters apart. In the distance, figures were seen frantically darting through the underbrush, rapidly approaching.
Under Meng Huai’s watch, the concealed Type 05 silenced submachine gun opened fire; a flurry of bullets emptied within two seconds, turning the two black-blood blood servants charging in front into pincushions, their bodies collapsing, spraying charred blood mist.
Facing the last approaching shadow, Meng Huai seized the semi-automatic shotgun in his hand and squeezed the trigger repeatedly.
The blasting gunfire spewed silver pellets with devastating force toward the opponent, round after round… Unfortunately, perhaps due to the lack of additional fire support, Meng Huai’s aim was noticeably off today, and he emptied the magazine.
The black-blood servant advanced closer, and even an altered hand was already dragging behind, gathering strength, then leaping high as if to crush Meng Huai.
With a hint of a cold smile, Meng Huai slightly tilted the barrel upward, and amidst the cries of a dark arrow teammate behind him, he pulled the trigger from a distance of three or four meters.
The black-blood servant’s body was shattered by the shotgun pellets, the broken body still carrying a fragment of an altered arm swinging wildly.
“Zhuang Hao exuded the aura of death, as if he had not really died yet.”
“Team Meng!”
Meng Huai and the black-blood servant collapsed to the ground simultaneously, and shouts from team members came from behind.
A second later, Meng Huai pulled out his handgun from his leg and let out a roar, repeatedly hitting the black-blood servant pressing down on him, followed by utter silence at the scene.
Meng Huai breathed deeply the damp air of the night, thick and foul blood continuously flowed from the mangled black-blood servant’s corpse above him, dripping onto his chest, while the scorched and grotesque face remained facing him, ominously terrifying.
Ignoring the black-blood servant’s corpse on him, Meng Huai quietly fished out a mysterious syringe from his waist, wearing a strange smile as he plunged it into his neck.
A liquid resembling magma was injected into his body, hot and stinging. This last needle of blood invasion reagent, propelled by the rhythmic beating of his heart, rapidly spread through his blood vessels, creating a burning sensation all over his body.
The classic blood invasion reaction had arrived; an immune storm stirred up by the blood invasion factors and immune factors was washing through him. Theoretically, his physical capabilities would sharply decline in the following minutes, accompanied by motor nerve disarray.
However, for Meng Huai, who had already laid the groundwork for the technical blood invasion, his condition was considerably better. He lifted his left hand, trembling as he removed his tactical helmet, breathing heavily and laboriously.
“Team Meng, are you okay?”
Two fighters from the squad, taking tactical cover, approached to help lift the black-blood servant’s corpse off Meng Huai, then both knelt on one knee in front of him.
“Yes, I’m fine… I might have broken a bone.”
Meng Huai didn’t rise, barely keeping his eyes closed, his chest heaving deeply, as if he had sustained a minor injury from the previous shock and felt a bit exhausted.
Looking at the two black silhouettes eagerly lowering their bodies and inching closer, Meng Huai slowly raised his right hand with the handgun.
With several gunshots, powerful bullets struck the bodies of the two squad members, knocking them to the ground with expressions of disbelief, still twitching slightly.
The two dark arrow team members were seriously injured but hadn’t been hit in any vital areas, allowing them to hold on for several more minutes even without any rescue.
“Team Meng… you’ve been blood-invaded…”
One of the team members retained some clarity, his voice strange due to a gunshot wound to the lung from such a close distance, blood pooling in his mouth. He even shed tears of regret for not protecting his companion earlier.
Meng Huai supported his body, slowly turned over, first discarding the weapons on the two, then trembling as he extracted the adrenaline they carried and injected it into their thighs.
“Heh, it’s fine; someone will rescue you soon… Comrades, I have to go…”
Struggling against the high fever reaction of his body, Meng Huai adjusted his center of gravity. After a few seconds, he finally stood upright, then unstrapped all his gear, staggering toward the depths of the forest while discarding them.
“Team Meng!”
From not far behind, a familiar female voice suddenly called out, accompanied by a strong low tone; it was Tao Qiaoer.
Meng Huai’s body paused, a helpless bitter smile appearing as he slowly turned around, quietly looking at the petite figure by a large tree twenty or so meters away.
“Quickly go save them; don’t mind me… I can’t die; I still have scores to settle…”
The most severe blood invasion reaction had passed, and apart from the high fever, Meng Huai had regained most of his physical functions. Standing tall, he slowly raised the handgun toward Tao Qiaoer.
“Team Meng, don’t do this… There’s still a chance; we can perform a blood invasion reversal surgery! It will surely succeed!”
Though she couldn’t see the color of Meng Huai’s pupils at that moment, Tao Qiaoer was already collapsing, the regret in her heart even recalling the meeting from a week ago, where Meng Huai swore to join the final battle.
“Team Meng, don’t go; we still have a chance. Don’t give up!”
Tao Qiaoer trembled as she threw aside her weapon, slowly approaching Meng Huai, tears streaming down her face, unable to be contained.
“My luck can’t last forever… The battalion will be entrusted to you; I have to go.”
Looking at Tao Qiaoer who was so near, Meng Huai’s tone grew even colder, and a moment later, he pulled the trigger.
Tao Qiaoer’s body hesitated, covering her abdomen, showing a look of unbearable pain before slowly collapsing to the ground.
Yet even sprawled on the ground, Tao Qiaoer still struggled to reach her hand toward Meng Huai’s receding figure, helplessly shaking.
…
At 2 AM.
After detaching from the battle line, Meng Huai did not choose the logical shortest route eastward, but followed the predetermined plan, heading south along the west bank of the Nu River, arriving at the designated task route node, evading any possible dark arrow encirclement efforts.
Checking the portable military BeiDou satellite navigation device in his hand, which had nearly meter-level navigation accuracy, Meng Huai successfully reached the first supply storage point. Below the ridge, a tropical old tree, growing with countless twisted aerial roots, appeared prominently in front of him.
Over the past few weeks, Meng Huai had been consuming the medicines and high-energy foods provided by Han Jieqian, and the initial reaction of bright red pupils from blood invasion had completely faded. However, the following initial blood thirst arrived as expected.
Again, a high fever akin to being hypothermic spread throughout his body, but the exposed skin felt cool to the touch; a large amount of liquid was rapidly metabolized into sweat, causing his black combat attire to become drenched.
Leaning against the large tree, he retrieved his water bottle from his waist to replenish fluids, finally glancing toward a spot disguised as a bush—the hiding place for his next phase of equipment, as arranged by Han Jieqian: a motorbike, new clothing, and several supplies.
After unstrapping his military pack, he took out a black drinking cup made of polyester material, filled with several hundred milliliters of fresh blood; under the tactical flashlight, it shimmered with an eerie, enchanting red glow.
In his vision, the temptation of blood loomed heavily, its unique bloody scent becoming an enticing fragrance. Unfazed, Meng Huai drank it all down, the smooth and soothing sensation flowing from his mouth deep into his stomach, making every pore in his body sing with joy.
All fatigue and discomfort vanished at this moment. Meng Huai no longer knew what kind of Aratai blood tribe he had become, but the gradual changes brought by his body sensations left him shockingly bewildered.
So this is the body of a blood tribe? A secret war of over two thousand years, weak humans are indeed fighting against such monsters… Meng Huai closed his eyes and began to rest, a self-deprecating cold smile on his lips.
Half an hour later, having changed into a full set of civilian clothing, Meng Huai pushed out a three-wheeled off-road motorcycle from the bushes. The trunk behind the bike was filled with supplies needed for the next phase, including hundreds of milliliters of precious rare blood for his own consumption.
…
The Nu River transitioned from Huaguo Yasi into the sovereign nation, but in the world of blood tribes, both banks of the Nu River nominally still belonged to the territory of the orthodox blood tribe Luo family.
In recent years, the brutal war, coupled with the rise of numerous black-blood tribe gangs and bloodthirsty forces, has rendered the Luo family’s voice and ruling power in this area virtually nonexistent; the last vassal knight granted land in northern Myanmar was over three decades ago.
The city in northern Myanmar, known as Old Street, is slightly larger than an ordinary township in Huaguo, with a density of ethnic Chinese unparalleled in hundreds of years.
Unlike ordinary poor towns in the southwestern nations, Old Street boasts a rich cultural tradition and vibrant prosperity.
The harsh natural environment and traffic congestion made ordinary social production extremely inefficient. Hard labor could not effectively accumulate wealth, leading to a gray economy that gradually became the economic backbone of Old Street over the past half-century, serving as the ideal platform for various shady characters.
At the top of the largest Hongtian Entertainment Center, a middle-aged man, dressed quite ordinary, stood at the railing facing north, smoking a cigarette.
Zhu Bixian, once a member of the Huaguo Expeditionary Army during the Anti-Japanese War, had become a blood tribe due to various circumstances after being scattered beyond the border during the war.
Now Zhu Bixian is a lower-tier viscount of the Ganges blood tribe, nominally the second-in-command of the Black Dragon Society, and a key figure in the southwestern border. In other words, he is a local strongman.
Unlike Cao Kuang’s embarrassing growth deep in Huaguo, Zhu Bixian resembles an underground emperor in his own small territory.
Old Street has been the foundation for Zhu Bixian’s underground world for decades. In this place where governance is nominal, he wields significant behind-the-scenes power. His initial joining of the Black Dragon Society was merely to consolidate territory.
“The sweeping actions of Dark Arrow at the end of the year are quite severe; I’ve heard that many gang lines have been cut off. I wonder if they will gradually turn their sights toward us.”
A fat man appeared behind Zhu Bixian, his attitude extremely respectful. “The border patrol on the eastern front has also significantly strengthened. Do we still need to send our goods over this year? Boss Cao has been urging for days, threatening he won’t take the goods if we delay any longer.”
Zhu Bixian did not turn around, lazily moving his shoulders, his expression neutral. “That lunatic Cao Kuang must have gained some advantage from someone; he’s provoking the Wang family and Dark Arrow domestically… He probably has a powerful backing now and is starting to look down on us.”
After speaking, Zhu Bixian leaned down, turned around, and patted his trusted aide’s shoulder. “However, our products are hard currency, and buyers are never a problem. The longer we hold onto them, the higher the prices when they reach the domestic market. If Cao Kuang doesn’t want them, someone else will… Just wait a bit longer; Dark Arrow’s Southwest Wheel War generally lasts around half a month; they won’t launch offensives in multiple directions at the same time.”
The fat man’s mouth twitched slightly, his expression growing harsher. “Brother, but our goods have been stalled for more than a month. The longer they stay in our hands, the easier it is for others to target them. During this time, I’ve noticed the Luo family has begun some minor actions; they’re clearly coming after us.”
“Shall I take people to deal with them and let them know who’s in charge here in Old Street… How could these fallen houses still have the guts to trouble us, clinging to old grudges from years ago?”
The cross-border smuggling business and territories in the southwestern border have been torn away from the Luo family by successive waves of black-blood or wandering blood tribes over the past century, with the Black Dragon Society being the ultimate winner.
Facing the thinning Luo family of today, while Zhu Bixian’s strength may not be overwhelming, it has at least deterred them for over two decades from acting recklessly.
“At this time, it’s best not to stir up trouble. They are just dogs clinging to the Wang family, relying on the Wang family for their prestige. Once that day comes without the Wang family’s backing, they will be completely docile.”
Zhu Bixian lit another cigarette, showing no concern for the threats from a once-prominent orthodox blood clan viscount family.
“Alright, brother, then I’ll use this time to disperse the goods a bit to avoid any problems.”
Seeing that his boss was confident, the fat man relented.
“Indeed, when it’s time to be cautious, we still have to be careful… Also, how’s the matter you were instructed to investigate previously coming along?”
Zhu Bixian waved his hand, losing interest in discussing the Luo family, his hawk-like eyes shifting back to the north.
“In the past two years, I’ve bribed quite a few people, but those with some status in the society still don’t know the whereabouts of Qian Guilong…”
The fat man quickly lowered his head; his usual rebellious demeanor had morphed into a trembling voice: “Brother, if we investigate the whereabouts of Boss Qian, if he successfully advances, he might come back and cause us trouble…”
“Trouble? When has a blood tribe ever been afraid of these? If he doesn’t die in hibernation, once he advances to a count and wakes up, he will possibly be the first to come looking for me… His confidants have long been eliminated by me and Cao Kuang, leaving no room for maneuver.”
Zhu Bixian let out a cold laugh, his expression growing increasingly sinister: “He’s been missing for nearly ten years; the power of me and Cao Kuang has skyrocketed over these years, and the territory of the Black Dragon Society has expanded considerably since he fell asleep. I don’t believe he would really act brotherly toward us anymore.”
“This old devil hasn’t forgotten the territory here; he’s just waiting for the day to take me down, swallowing everything whole, including personnel and business. I and Cao Kuang are nothing but dogs used to stake out land in his eyes…”
Zhu Bixian spoke fiercely, but his tone clearly bore deep wariness toward the elusive Qian Guilong of the Black Dragon Society.
The fat man dared not continue on that topic, merely bowing his head deeply, breaking into a cold sweat. Because everyone knew that unlike Zhu Laoer and Cao Laosan, who seemed more like renegades in the underworld, Qian Guilong truly embodied the style of a blood tribe, unwavering in his focus.
At some point, only Zhu Bixian remained on the rooftop, smoking one cigarette after another, as if the frustrations of his mind would not cease until resolved.
“Boss Qian, Qian Guilong, where exactly are you hibernating? You’ve hidden for so many years; you know many people are looking for you, right…”
Zhu Bixian’s face bore a deep confusion as he muttered words only he could hear.
