All this was nothing to Andrew Clark, who was used to the jungle. At the age of ten, he followed his elders deep into the forest, sometimes for more than half a month at a time. Andrew Clark felt at home and familiar with the woods. As he ran, Andrew Clark was like an agile mountain monkey, constantly leaping over obstacles in his path at lightning speed.

After about ten minutes, the sounds of fighting ahead stopped. Andrew Clark instinctively slowed down. Although he had no combat experience, he knew it was dangerous to go any further. He carefully observed his surroundings, tiptoed to hide behind a large tree, and, after making sure the area was safe, quickly dashed to another tree to continue his surveillance.

Andrew Clark had witnessed the brutal fights between animals since childhood, and had seen uncles and cousins die horribly while hunting. He was not particularly afraid of death, but he valued his life—he only had one, and staying alive was the only way to avenge his brothers!

The further he went, the more cautious Andrew Clark became. Soon, he saw a person lying ahead, the back of his head and shoulders covered in blood, most of his skull blown away—clearly dead. He wore a very unusual camouflage uniform, green as the base color, with yellow, brown, and black patterns that blended him perfectly into the natural surroundings. If not for the blood on his head, he would have been impossible to spot.

Andrew Clark approached cautiously and turned the man over. He had an East Asian face, a resolute look, and his black-and-white eyes still showed unwillingness and longing for life. Beside him was a high-end weapon, apparently a sniper rifle. There was no identification on him. Andrew Clark picked up the gun to inspect it.

For a new border guard like Andrew Clark, he was used to handling homemade shotguns since childhood, but rarely had the chance to use real guns—just a few times during basic training, with pitifully few bullets. His knowledge of firearms was limited. At the border outpost, he had the chance to handle guns, but ammunition was strictly controlled, and he hadn’t fired a shot in half a year. He had no idea how to use such a sophisticated weapon, only able to roughly identify its parts. Suddenly, two gunshots rang out ahead.

Startled, Andrew Clark grabbed the gun and rushed forward. Soon, he saw someone in the distance fire a shot, then quickly roll to the side with their gun. The spot where they had just been hiding was hit by a three-round burst. It all happened in the blink of an eye—if that person had been even a split second slower, they would have been dead.

Chapter 6: Life and Death Crisis

Andrew Clark moved forward a bit, but couldn’t see the person anymore. Unsure if they were friend or foe, he didn’t dare act rashly. He tossed the gun aside—an unfamiliar weapon was less reassuring than the machete in his hand. Gripping the machete, he hid behind a nearby tree and waited patiently. The surroundings were silent, only the rustling of wind in the treetops could be heard. It was so peaceful, it was as if nothing had happened.

Years of hunting experience told Andrew Clark that beneath a calm surface often lurked great danger. The more peaceful it seemed, the less he could afford to be impatient. Andrew Clark took a deep breath, using the hunting skills he’d learned since childhood to blend into his environment, imagining himself as a blade of grass, a tree. Gradually, his breathing became steady and long, and his mind grew exceptionally calm and alert.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but everything remained as quiet as before. Andrew Clark grew curious—had everyone already run far away? Was he just waiting here like a fool? With that thought, Andrew Clark slowly poked his head out to look ahead, only to suddenly see a pistol appear before his eyes, he didn’t know when.

Andrew Clark was shocked and instinctively prepared to strike back with his knife, when a cold, iron-like female voice rang out: “You can try and see which is faster—your knife or my gun.” She spoke in an international language, her overwhelming, icy aura suffocating. Andrew Clark felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen, and all his strength seemed to drain away—he couldn’t move at all.

At that moment, a female soldier with her face painted in camouflage slowly appeared from the other side of the tree. She wore a tactical helmet camouflaged with dry grass. Even in loose camouflage fatigues, her impressive figure was unmistakable. Her hand gripping the pistol was pale and slender, yet radiated a terrifying sense of strength. Her eyes were icy and sharp, her face cold as frost, exuding a murderous aura. When she saw Andrew Clark, her tightly pressed, sensual lips let out a faint sound of surprise, and her gaze became more scrutinizing.

Andrew Clark had no idea when someone had gotten so close. He was terrified—facing the dark muzzle of the gun, he felt, for the first time in his life, how close death could be. His mind went blank. Hearing the woman’s faint gasp of surprise and seeing that she hadn’t fired, his panic eased a little. Suddenly, he realized she might be an ally. In his shock, he quickly said, “Don’t shoot, I’m one of us.”

Perhaps it was the familiar Chinese language that eased the female soldier’s suspicions, or maybe it was Andrew Clark’s standard-issue uniform that made her trust him a bit more. The murderous aura around her softened slightly, but her hand holding the gun didn’t move at all—the muzzle was still aimed squarely at Andrew Clark’s brow. With a cold face and an unquestionable tone, she barked, “Unit? Name? Position?”

Andrew Clark was about to answer when he suddenly noticed, three hundred meters behind the female soldier, a gun sticking out from behind a tree—no person in sight. Sensing danger, he didn’t have time to explain and shouted, “Watch out!” As he spoke, he lunged forward, grabbing the female soldier, who was just a step away, and tackled her to the ground.