Chapter 15 Unexpected Injury
The return journey was more difficult than expected.
The retrieval of the last batch of hidden supplies went smoothly. The titanium alloy box was cold and heavy, the radio parts were securely wrapped, and the high-altitude gear was intact. Wen Yu carefully packed them into his backpack and readjusted the weight. The sky was more overcast than expected, with low-hanging leaden clouds, as if another blizzard might descend at any moment. The wind had picked up, whipping up snowflakes that rustled against his goggles, reducing visibility.
He chose a slightly different route down the mountain than he had come by, intending to check out another leeward slope along the way. This area was denser, with huge spruce trees bent low by snow, forming natural snow arches and barriers, but also making it easier to hide dangers.
Wen Yu moved with even lighter steps, each step sinking deep into the knee-deep snow before being pulled out steadily. He remained highly vigilant, his compound bow already removed from his back, gripped in his hand, fingers resting on the edge of the quiver, ready to draw and nock an arrow at any moment. His eyes behind his goggles sharply scanned the shadows of the forest ahead and to either side, his ears catching any discordant sound in the wind.
Turning past a large rock mostly buried in snow, a relatively open clearing came into view. Several messy marks lay scattered across the clearing, as if someone had briefly stayed there, along with the remains of a recently extinguished fire, its ashes scattered by the wind. Wen Yu immediately stopped, crouching low behind a protruding rock, his gaze quickly scanning the edge of the clearing.
It was so quiet. Even the sound of the wind seemed to have stopped for a moment.
Instinct and his countless near-death experiences from his past life instantly tightened Wen Yu's nerves. Without hesitation, almost simultaneously sensing the abnormality, he rolled violently to the side and backward!
"Whoosh—!"
A rough arrow, sharpened from a twig, grazed the snow where he had just stood, embedding itself deeply in a tree trunk behind him, its fletching still trembling. Immediately afterward, several strange cries rang out from behind the trees and snowdrifts on either side, and five or six figures suddenly pounced out!
They were mobs. And not the ordinary survivors with a glimmer of hope they had encountered before. These people had their faces smeared with mud and snow, their eyes were murky and crazed, their bodies were wrapped in a jumble of stolen clothes, and they carried a variety of weapons: rusty machetes, wooden sticks with spikes attached, and even an old-fashioned hunting rifle! They had clearly been lying in ambush for a long time, just waiting for their prey to pass by.
While rolling, Wen Yu had already completed the actions of drawing the arrow and nocking the string. Before his body was fully steady, the bow was already drawn more than halfway. Relying on his senses and the corner of his eye, he aimed the arrow tip at the burly man who was charging at the front and holding a cleaver.
"Boom!"
With a soft twang of the bowstring, the carbon fiber arrow shot out at incredible speed, leaving an almost invisible trail in the air.
"puff!"
The arrow pierced the burly man's thigh precisely. It wasn't a fatal wound, but it was enough to make him scream in agony, lose his balance, and fall heavily onto the snow, dropping his machete.
The arrow stunned the others for a moment. But their frantic hunger and will to survive quickly overwhelmed their fear. "He has a bow! Attack him! Grab his bag!" someone roared. The remaining four men brandished their weapons and flanked Wen Yu from different directions, cutting off any possible escape routes.
Wen Yu's eyes were cold, showing no sign of panic. He moved swiftly, using rocks and tree trunks as cover to avoid being surrounded. He nocked a second arrow, this time aiming at the man holding a hunting rifle who was trying to aim. But the man was cunning, hiding behind a thick spruce tree, only revealing half of his body.
The other three had closed in. One of them, wielding a spiked wooden club, yelled and brought it down on Wen Yu's head. Wen Yu dodged to the side, the club hitting the snow and kicking up a cloud of snow. At the same time, another man, wielding a rusty dagger, lunged at his waist from the side. Wen Yu parried with his bow in his left hand; with a clang, the dagger sliced through the bow, sending sparks flying. His right hand, already drawing his machete, slashed horizontally, forcing the man to retreat hastily.
The third person was short but exceptionally agile, holding a short knife made of a metal sheet. Like a weasel in the snow, he pounced on Wen Yu's left arm holding the bow from his blind spot, his angle was cunning and ruthless!
Wen Yu had just parried the dagger when the force of his machete's swing still lingered, causing him to be slightly slow in his defensive maneuver. He tried his best to twist his body, but the metal dagger still managed to slice through the thick polar suit on the outside of his left arm!
"Sizzle—"
The sound of tearing fabric was clearly audible. A chill ran through him instantly, followed by a burning pain. Wen Yu groaned, not even glancing at his wound. He stomped his right foot, using the momentum to propel himself backward. At the same time, enduring the excruciating pain, he transferred the compound bow to his temporarily uninjured right hand, switched the machete to his left, and held it horizontally in front of him. His eyes, sharp as knives, swept over the three rioters who had regained some distance, were panting heavily, but were now even more excited (because they smelled blood).
The wound on his left arm was not shallow; Wen Yu could feel the warm liquid rapidly seeping through his inner clothing, bringing waves of throbbing pain with a numbing sensation. His polar suit had been ripped open with a gash several centimeters long, exposing the down and thermal insulation material inside, mixed with dark red blood. The cold slowed the pain somewhat, but the effects of blood loss and hypothermia were intensifying.
We cannot engage in prolonged combat. We must end this quickly or disengage as soon as possible.
The guy with the shotgun finally found his chance, peeking out from behind the tree and pointing the dark muzzle of his gun at Wen Yu!
Wen Yu's pupils contracted slightly. Almost the instant the other party pulled the trigger, he suddenly lunged to the side, simultaneously raising his compound bow with his right hand to protect his head and neck.
"Bang!"
The roar of the old-fashioned hunting rifle was particularly jarring in the silent mountain forest. A large spray of iron shot erupted in a fan shape, leaving the snow where Wen Yu had just been standing in a mess. Several stray bullets struck the bow, making muffled "thud" sounds, and the powerful impact made Wen Yu's arm go numb. But worse, this shot startled the other three and completely aroused their ferocity.
"He's injured! Hurry!"
"They stole his things! His food! His clothes!"
The three men pounced again. Wen Yu rolled aside, dodging a falling wooden stick, and swung his machete with lightning speed, striking the man with the dagger in the shin. The man screamed and fell to the ground. But the short man with the short knife was like a persistent leech, closing in once more, this time targeting Wen Yu's injured left arm!
Wen Yu's left arm was in pain, which inevitably slowed his movements. Just as the short knife was about to pierce him again, he suddenly raised his left arm and used the thick protective brace on the outside of his elbow to forcefully slam the blade into it!
"Clang!"
The ear-piercing sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air. The dagger was knocked away, but the pain pulled at the wound on Wen Yu's left arm, causing him to feel a sharp pain that made his vision go black. In that instant, the burly man who had initially been shot in the thigh struggled to his feet, his face contorted in rage, picked up the machete from the ground, and limped towards Wen Yu from behind!
Caught in a pincer movement! Wen Yu is in dire straits.
At this critical moment—
"Waaaaah—!"
A deep, suppressed, and threatening roar came from the hillside above and to the side without warning!
The voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a primal, chilling penetrating power that instantly drowned out the mob's shouts.
Everyone was stunned, their movements involuntarily halting as they looked in the direction from which the sound came from, filled with surprise and uncertainty.
Above, on a snow-covered rock, several pairs of eerie, green eyes had appeared out of nowhere. Wolves! And more than one! They were hidden behind the snow mist and shadows of the trees, their exact number unclear, but their cold, bloodthirsty gazes were like tangible needles, piercing every living creature.
To the mob, the wounded and bleeding Wen Yu was prey, but the suddenly appearing wolf pack was a more direct and terrifying predator! They may have been attracted by the smell of blood and the sound of gunfire long ago, lurking nearby.
"Wolves! It's a wolf!"
"Run!"
The deadly threat shifted instantly. The instinct for survival overwhelmed all greed. The remaining mob, including the one with the shotgun, no longer cared about Wen Yu. They screamed in terror and scrambled away in the direction they had come from, fleeing for their lives, not even bothering to care for their wounded and fallen companions.
Wen Yu knelt on one knee in the snow, breathing heavily, each breath stinging with cold. He didn't look at the fleeing mob; his gaze was fixed on the wolf pack on the hillside. His right hand gripped the machete tightly, while his left hand tried to raise the compound bow, but the excruciating pain from his wound and the weakness from blood loss made this simple movement difficult.
The wolves didn't pounce immediately. They seemed to be assessing the situation, waiting. The alpha wolf's silhouette was faintly visible in the snow mist; it was quite large. Compared to a human, this wounded prey didn't seem so easy to catch, especially since it was armed.
Man and wolf faced off in the cold snow. Only the wind howled.
Wen Yu knew he couldn't hold on much longer. Blood loss, hypothermia, and exhaustion were rapidly robbing him of his mobility and body temperature. Once he fainted, it would be certain death.
He had to move, he had to leave this place and return to the fortress.
He took a deep breath of the cold air, suppressing the metallic taste in his throat, and used the machete to support his body as he slowly stood up. The movement aggravated his wounds, causing the veins on his forehead to bulge with pain. Cold sweat instantly soaked through his inner clothing, which then turned icy cold in the low temperature.
He stopped looking at the wolves, turned, and began to walk towards the fortress, step by step, with difficulty but determination. Each step left footprints mixed with dark red blood in the deep snow. He exposed his back to the wolves, an extremely dangerous gamble, but he had no other choice. He had to project enough of a "threat" and a resolute "departure," gambling that the wolves would not risk attacking a prey that still appeared capable of resistance.
The cold wind rushed into his torn sleeves, like icy blades scraping across his wounds. His vision began to blur, and the monotonous white surroundings seemed to spin. Wen Yu gritted his teeth, pressing his tongue against his palate, using the pain to force himself to stay awake. He couldn't fall here, he absolutely couldn't.
On the hillside behind us, the low howls of the wolves and the sound of their claws scraping the snow seemed to linger for a while, but eventually, the chilling feeling faded away. Perhaps they chose easier prey (the fleeing mob), or perhaps they weighed the options and gave up.
Wen Yu dared not relax, dragging his increasingly heavy body, relying on his memory and willpower to trek through the vast snowfield. He didn't know how long he had walked; time became blurred. All he could see was a dazzling white expanse and the direction of the fortress.
Finally, when the familiar, sturdy gray building silhouette appeared like a mirage in the snow and mist ahead, Wen Yu had almost exhausted his last bit of strength. He staggered, grabbed a cold spruce tree for support, and coughed violently, his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.
He looked up, his eyes fixed intently on the fortress behind his frost-covered goggles. Only a few hundred meters left.
He untied the water bottle from his waist (filled with melted snow water, icy cold), unscrewed it, and poured the remaining ice water all over his face. The biting cold made him shiver, and his spirits lifted slightly.
He couldn't just collapse here. He took a deep breath, suppressing his churning blood and dizziness, and started moving again. With his last bit of will, he shuffled towards the heavy door that symbolized safety and survival.
When his trembling hand finally pressed the hidden door open button on the outside of the airtight chamber, and he heard the familiar sound of hydraulic pressure, his tense nerves suddenly relaxed. His vision went black for a moment, and he had to lean against the cold door frame to barely keep from collapsing.
The door opened, and a warm breeze rushed in, carrying the clean, slightly cool scent unique to the interior of the fortress, completely out of place with the blood, cold, and death aura surrounding him.
He stumbled through the door, his heavy backpack falling to the ground with a thud. Behind him, the airtight door closed automatically, completely shutting out the cold and danger from the outside.
Wen Yu leaned against the closed, cold, heavy metal door and slowly slid down to the ground. He had finally returned to his fortress, his lair.
The stinging pain in my left arm became clear and sharp, and warm liquid continued to seep out, flowing down my arm and dripping onto the clean floor, which was slightly warmed by the heating system, blooming into dark red, shocking flowers.
He lifted his heavy, leaden eyelids and looked vaguely toward the inner door, where he could see a slender figure running toward him in a panic.
It's Su Ran.
Wen Yu opened his mouth, as if to say something, but only managed to utter a few muffled breaths. Darkness surged up from the edge of his vision like a tide, quickly engulfing his remaining consciousness.
Before he completely lost consciousness, his last sensation was seeing Su Ran's beautiful eyes instantly filled with tears, brimming with terror and disbelief, and hearing a trembling, tearful cry:
"Mr. Wen—!"