BANG! BANG! BANG!
Thien Anh squeezed the trigger with rhythmic composure. Three shots rang out in rapid succession, each bullet finding its mark squarely in the center of the foreheads of the three hiding hostiles. Thud, thud, thud. Three more corpses slumped onto the freezing corridor floor.
Simultaneously, from the periphery, the staccato roar of machine guns intermingled with desperate, terminal shrieks echoed against the walls. The primal, authoritative growls of Thien Lang provided a terrifying bass note to the cacophony. Together, they coalesced into a visceral symphony of death.
"Bang… bang…!" "Ah… help…!" "Awooo…!"
The sounds gradually faded into a heavy silence. Shortly after, Thien Lang trotted back into view, his jaws clamped onto the leg of a comatose gunman, dragging him across the floor like a sack of refuse.
Dropping the prisoner, Thien Lang turned to Lam Linh, his deep, resonant voice laced with unexpected concern:
"How did you let yourself get wounded like this?"
Lam Linh was currently bracing against a soul-searing agony, but hearing Thien Lang's query, she forced a pale, fragile smile:
"Just a stray round. It's nothing major."
Thien Anh cast a fleeting glance at her injury. His gaze hardened instantly as he issued a command to Thien Lang:
"Go help her stop the bleeding. I'll handle this one."
Understanding his master's intent, Thien Lang approached Lam Linh. Their shared battles through life and death had finally eroded the wolf's prejudice toward this woman. He leaned in, tenderly licking Lam Linh's wound—a natural antiseptic ritual of high-tier mutated beasts. Observing her blood-drenched left hand and the pulverized remains of her finger, Thien Lang spoke softly:
"This finger is shredded; consider it lost. You'll have to rely on a prosthetic later. But no matter—keeping your life is a grand blessing. Nothing else is as important."Shutterstock
Lam Linh nodded, her voice a fragile tremor: "I know."
While Lam Linh applied specialized medicine to treat her wound, Thien Anh commenced the interrogation. Devoid of any concept of mercy or the conventions of war, Thien Anh coldly brought his heel down upon the prisoner's right hand.
CRUNCH! The sound of dry, splintering bone echoed through the silent corridor. The absolute agony jolted the gunman awake, a wretched shriek ripping from his throat:
"AAAGH… you son of a…!"
Thien Anh neither spoke nor smiled. His face was as expressionless as a stone statue. He slowly leveled his submachine gun, aiming it directly at the prisoner's eyeball. The scream was instantly strangled in the man's throat.
Cold sweat poured down the prisoner's brow like a deluge; the primal fear of death had finally eclipsed the agony of his shattered hand. He stammered, but no words came. Thien Anh asked in a hollow, shadowy voice:
"Aside from your squad, who else is here?"
The killing intent radiating from Thien Anh made the man's scalp tingle with ice. He replied tremulously:
"No… no one else."
BANG!
A round punched into his thigh without a flicker of warning. Thien Anh calmly redirected the muzzle back to the man's forehead:
"A bit more honesty, or the next one pierces your skull."
The gunman looked at Thien Anh with a gaze of pure, concentrated hatred. He roared in terminal desperation:
"Damn you! If you've got the guts, just kill me!"
BANG!
Thien Anh didn't waste another syllable. A single shot ended the prisoner's life instantly. He had read the hatred in the man's eyes, coupled with a faint, flickering hope in his comrades—it meant the truth would never be surrendered. To Thien Anh, a captive with no intelligence value who could not be turned was merely a corpse waiting to happen. He had neither the time nor the energy to watch over a useless tail.
Discarding the body, Thien Anh approached Lam Linh, asking curtly: "How bad is it?"
Lam Linh shook her head slightly, though her face was ashen from blood loss: "The bones in my left hand are pulverized. I won't be able to handle long guns for a while. I can only provide support with a sidearm for now. I'm truly sorry… I've let you down again."
Thien Anh reached out, gesturing to help her up. Only then did his gaze soften slightly: "You did well. The battlefield has no room for perfection. Being wounded is commonplace; keeping your life—that is the true skill. Stand up. We still have to clear out the remaining vermin."
Lam Linh offered a faint smile, taking Thien Anh's hand to pull herself up. Before advancing deeper into the military facility, Thien Anh meticulously destroyed every micro-camera the enemy had installed.
Now that the secret cards were face-up, the game was no longer about stealth—it was a direct confrontation. To ensure their safety, Thien Anh installed his own surveillance grid at critical junctures. If the enemy dared to flank them, they would walk straight into his trap.
With the recon network established, Thien Anh's team continued their advance, their ultimate goal being the armory's command center.