Blood Eagle's Losses

After filling up his Rolls-Royce, Yang Feng screwed the fuel cap back on, turned, and beckoned to someone nearby.

His eyes were densely bloodshot, and the dark circles beneath them were almost as pronounced as a panda's.

He looked utterly haggard, inside and out.

He had barely slept these past few days.

Ever since meeting Cheng Shun, he had become obsessed with the Weird Object Cheng Shun had described-a straight saber that could turn invisible.

To get that saber, he had led his men in pursuit all the way here.

But after chasing for so long, they had not seen so much as a shadow.

"Go." A sudden surge of anger rose in Yang Feng.

Then he ordered, "Bring Cheng Shun over."

A burly, bald man in a black suit standing behind him immediately understood.

He turned and walked to the rear door of a mud-caked SUV, then roughly yanked it open.

The moment the door opened, a stink of sweat and sour feet hit him in the face.

Cheng Shun was lying across the back seat, fast asleep.

His mouth hung wide open, and his snores grew louder with each breath.

Without a word, the bald man grabbed the sparse tuft of hair on top of his head and hauled him out.

"Aaargh!"

Cheng Shun jolted awake, the searing pain drawing a squeal like a pig being slaughtered.

He was dragged bodily out of the back seat.

His back struck the doorframe, his shoulder slammed into the running board, and finally he landed on the concrete like a heap of sludge.

Who knew how many strands of hair had been ripped out?

Crimson blood seeped from the torn skin of his scalp and ran down his temple, past the corner of his eye and mouth, dripping onto the concrete beneath him.

The bald man remained completely unmoved.

The commotion drew the attention of the others in the convoy, but their expressions did not change in the slightest, as though they were used to it.

Gripped by the hair in that large hand, Cheng Shun was dragged along.

His legs kicked and flailed against the concrete. One of his leather shoes came off along the way, exposing a gray sock with a hole in it.

The bald man moved with practiced ease, as though dragging a sack of produce. Only when he had hauled Cheng Shun all the way to Yang Feng did he let go.

By then, Cheng Shun's mind was utterly blank.

The agonizing pain felt like planks studded with nails slamming into his body, one after another.

The instant he saw Yang Feng's face, before he could even think about what was happening, his survival instinct drove him to his knees. He shuffled forward on them and crawled to Yang Feng's feet.

Yang Feng was now a completely different man from when they had first met.

Back then, he had always seemed calm and composed, brimming with confidence.

Now, from any angle, he looked like a wolf driven into a corner.

Yang Feng lowered his head and looked at Cheng Shun trembling on the ground. His voice was slightly hoarse. "Do you know why I invited you here?"

His tone was as still as stagnant water.

But Cheng Shun could hear it.

Something lurked beneath that calm, like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

He shook his head instinctively.

Then he nodded like a madman.

"I know, I know, I know..." His voice trembled, broken by sobs and sharp gasps.

Yang Feng said nothing.

He stared at Cheng Shun for a full three seconds, then let out a faint, brief laugh.

The next second, he kicked Cheng Shun in the lower abdomen.

Cheng Shun flew several meters, curled like a shrimp in a hot pan.

The excruciating pain in his belly made him curl into a ball. Stomach acid surged uncontrollably up his throat, and he vomited it out along with the food he had eaten not long ago.

It splattered onto the ground, giving off a pungent, sour stench.

"Spare me... Mr. Yang... spare me..."

His words were slurred, and the intense pain left him unable even to crawl.

Yang Feng took a step forward.

He raised his right foot and held it in the air.

But as he looked at that pain-contorted face on the ground, he drew a deep breath and forcibly suppressed the urge to kick the man to death.

He lowered his right leg and ground the sole of his shoe against the concrete.

Seeing this, the bald man hurried forward and helped Cheng Shun up.

Even once he was steadied, his legs were still shaking.

Yang Feng stared at him with an icy gaze. "Do you know how many people the Blood Eagle Convoy has lost chasing all the way here since you told us about that Weird Object?"

Cheng Shun shuddered. His lips moved a few times, but he did not dare answer.

Soon, everything that had happened along the way resurfaced in Yang Feng's mind.

After finding Zhao Biao's corpse, they had immediately encountered a mass of black fog filled with high-tier Eldritch.

The entire convoy had been so frightened that they piled into their vehicles and set off at once.

While fleeing from the gray fog, the convoy had suffered its first major losses ever.

Six vehicles had been swallowed by the gray fog, and the dozen or so people inside had not even managed a desperate scream.

After shaking off the gray fog, the convoy had reached a fork in the road.

Judging by the tire tracks left at the junction, Cheng Shun had thumped his chest and declared that the young man had taken the narrow road.

So the convoy had set off again, following that road in pursuit.

But halfway along it, they had driven straight into an encirclement of Tier One Tree Spirits.

Only by setting fire to the fuel tanks of several vehicles had the convoy barely managed to escape.

As they pressed farther on, they had reached a village called Qianxing Village.

Yang Feng had originally intended to replenish their supplies there and look for signs of the RV while they were at it.

Finding that the village had been picked clean would have been bad enough, but they had also encountered several high-tier Eldritch inside a villa.

A dozen or so of his men had been reduced to piles of dry bones in an instant. Had one of his Sequence Nine subordinates not sacrificed his life, everyone in the convoy would have died in that village.

After escaping the village, the convoy had followed the tire tracks all the way here.

"Before we set out, our convoy had over a hundred and thirty people. Half of them were my best men."

"And now? My best men are dead or wounded, and the whole Blood Eagle Convoy has barely fifty people left."

"Tell me..."

"Shouldn't I be angry?"

"Shouldn't I kill you?!"

Cheng Shun shook all over with terror.

He frantically kowtowed, his forehead striking the concrete with loud thuds. Every blow landed squarely on the hard ground.

The skin on his forehead soon split, and blood mixed with dust smeared his face.

"Captain Yang, the information I gave you was absolutely right! Absolutely right!"

Cheng Shun had been present when Zhao Biao modified the RV he had stolen, and had watched the whole process himself.

He clearly remembered how rushed they had been. They had added so many steel plates to reinforce the body that the vehicle weighed almost twice as much as before.

But they had never found suitable tires, so Zhao Biao had made do with the original old ones.

As a result, its tires wore down far faster than those of ordinary vehicles.

And the tracks it left were particularly distinctive! Zhao Biao could recognize them at a glance.

Their ability to track it accurately all the way here was almost entirely thanks to Cheng Shun.

His only mistake had been stirring Yang Feng's greed.

Yang Feng himself knew perfectly well that if they had not pursued that young man to steal his saber, they would never have lost so many people.

But he was proud to his core. How could he possibly admit that it was his own fault?

Besides, a Weird Object weapon with a sequence number had appeared in the hands of an ordinary person who had not even awakened a sequence. How was that any different from a windfall dropping into his lap?

Anyone would have struggled to resist that temptation.

(P.S. We've reached ninety thousand words! To all my beloved patrons enjoying this book, after tapping the free update reminder, don't forget to add it to your library!)