Chapter 103: A Struggle Against Death

For ordinary soldiers, the saturation strike was absolutely deadly firepower, but for experts, it at most caused some trouble. Unless struck directly by a small laser cannon—of course, in such cases, even a ninth-level master couldn’t guarantee survival.

While observing the camp under attack, Zhao Li even consciously considered whether he himself would be killed if caught in such a sudden assault. His rifle remained aimed, but his mind raced, simulating the density of the shelling, his own position, and the potential dangers he might face.

Unfortunately, though Zhao Li saw countless severed limbs and body parts in his field of vision, true experts would never panic and become shooting targets under such sudden attacks. If it had been him, there was a good chance he could have found a safe spot in time during the aerial assault and survived.

Putting himself in others’ shoes, as a mercenary leader ranked third among the underground factions, Black Prison Mercenaries must have their masters.

“Everyone, be alert. There may be hidden experts!” Zhao Li warned all personnel via communicator. No one relaxed when life and death hung in the balance.

James, aboard the warship, also heard Zhao Li’s warning. Still in the air, he laughed heartily: “Hiding deep, huh? Let me put on a big fireworks show for you!”

The warship swiftly banked in the sky. Ground anti-aircraft fire had already been destroyed by James and Christine, allowing James to swagger about above. On the warship, he methodically picked off targets one by one with the thirty-millimeter autocannon.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the fireworks show begins now!” With a voice like a show host, James unleashed a faint, ghostly beam of light that shone directly onto the camp from above. The ethereal light pillar circled the base, tracing a perfect circle before vanishing.

Silent and eerie. Those who saw this were puzzled—what was this? A virtual 3D projection? Where were the fireworks James promised?

A hushed silence lasted for half a minute, as if James’s attack had no effect. Only a few knew it was a particle weapon strike, capable of penetrating underground structures.

Then came an even more terrifying series of explosions. It was as if an invisible giant hand had overturned the earth. The ground shook violently, blasting a mixture of colored concrete and debris from beneath.

Following James’s initial strike, a chain reaction triggered a massive cache of munitions, setting off a prolonged series of explosions. A small mushroom cloud slowly rose.

Though the elite squad and James’s forces were prepared and well-equipped, the explosions still caused dizziness and the earth trembled beneath their feet like a high-level earthquake. Fortunately, the mushroom cloud was not radioactive; it was merely from ignited fuel stores. Aside from some ear discomfort, everyone remained safe.

The camp itself had sunk at least two meters. All buildings had collapsed. Even those in underground bunkers would now be buried beneath the rubble.

Looking up at the circling warship—the particle cannon James had personally helped install—Zhao Li’s mind churned. In this age of mad technology, what use was martial arts mastery? Could it withstand such weaponry? Could it stand against a nuclear blast?

This thought quickly passed. Zhao Li’s main concern was the effectiveness of the attack. He hadn’t expected that employing special weapons would make the battle so easy and devoid of challenge. Just a few saturation strikes seemed to reduce the once formidable elite troops to nothing more than battlefield cleanup crews.

James continued to circle overhead as a lookout, temporarily serving as an early warning system. Zhao Li motioned for his team to rush into the devastated camp.

Survivors were nearly nonexistent. The thirty-millimeter autocannon’s sweep combined with the particle cannon’s final blow had left no chance for anyone inside.

Still, everyone proceeded cautiously, clearing the camp point by point, wary of any stragglers. After all, this was the military’s first formal operation in this border area; prudence was essential.

Fortunately, Zhao Li and Li Mengdie searched the ruins twice without finding any survivors. The weapons’ power was so immense that intact bodies were nearly nonexistent, making casualty counts difficult. Regardless of whether any enemies had escaped, the psychological impact was achieved, allowing a safe return to base.

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Not far away, in a dense forest, Wen Tianming peeled back the bark of a massive tree to reveal a dark hole. As the leader of the Black Prison Mercenaries, his room contained the camp’s only escape tunnel. The moment the attack began, he reacted instantly, ushering four or five bodyguards who happened to be in his room into the tunnel.

Shortly after, James’s ion cannon strike enveloped a five-meter radius underground, earning Wen Tianming’s grudging respect for his quick decision. Without it, even with the tunnel, he wouldn’t have made it inside.

The military’s first bold display of force in this border region stirred both fear and lingering dread in Wen Tianming. For nearly two centuries, the military had not made such a large-scale move, causing many—including Wen—to forget its might. The cowardice shown by the stationed soldiers had emboldened local guerrillas, who brazenly harassed the poor men sent here.

Such powerful weaponry? Without question, only the regular army could wield it. Wen Tianming regretted losing his composure in the face of the military’s open provocation, despite hearing rumors of a young officer recently dispatched to straighten out the thugs.

Moreover, those worthless subordinates had dared to openly kill one soldier and maim another. He should have restrained them from causing trouble.

Though once a dominant figure, Wen’s brief remorse soon transformed into fierce anger. The base housed over two hundred men, nearly all his trusted lieutenants. Only he and a handful escaped; the rest perished within the base.

This base was his capital, the true elite core of the Black Prison Mercenaries, and the mercenary training camp. Each year, it produced over twenty qualified mercenaries who joined various organizations in the borderlands. This, alongside drug trafficking, was a major source of income for Black Prison Mercenaries—now wiped out by Zhao Li’s forces.

What is tolerable, and what is not? Wen Tianming glanced at his men, all experts—two bodyguards at level eight, the rest at level seven, and himself barely a level seven master. In the familiar dark forest, launching a counterattack against government troops was no small feat.

The camp’s destruction was swift; the particle cannon left no residues worth investigating. Zhao Li’s team’s task was to confirm no enemies had slipped through.

Except for Christine and Sanders, who set up sniper positions at height, the others slowly searched and cleared the battlefield. One even recorded the scene for broadcast, aiming to intimidate others.

A faint sound barely discernible echoed through Zhao Li’s communicator—so subtle it might have been mistaken for forest noise. Yet Zhao Li’s instincts sharpened. “All teams, confirm status!” he ordered decisively, then warned Sanders and Christine: “Be alert, possible enemies!”

Everyone’s eyes widened, fingers poised on triggers. The five-team coordination was seamless; under Zhao Li’s command, confirmations came within seconds.

“First squad intact!”

“Second squad intact!”

“Seventh squad lost one man!”

The shared communication sent a chill through all—there were enemies!

Recent months’ special training focused on teamwork. Neither Zhao Li nor James expected their men to suddenly become supreme masters overnight; emphasis was on cooperation.

With smooth teamwork, a few men could act as one master. A shadow flickered in the dark; one squad member spotted it and concentrated fire there. The intense barrage forced the hidden figure to remain unseen behind a tree.

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The sound of a few dry, empty cartridge clicks rang out as another squad flanked nearby. Even a level eight master hesitated against such heavy gunfire.

Just as the attacker peeked from behind the tree to locate targets, a red beam struck his exposed right eye with pinpoint accuracy.

Boom! The small laser cannon’s blast nearly obliterated the tree he hid behind. No matter how strong, a master wasn’t as sturdy as a small warship—especially when hit in such a vulnerable spot.

The shooter was Sanders, living up to his guns expert reputation with near-magical weapon handling. Nearby, Christine also wielded a laser cannon but lacked Sanders’s knack for seizing such fleeting chances. Though a prodigy from a military academy, her strength lay in *combat*, not sharpshooting.

Another attacker was spotted but seemed indifferent to bullets. Upon discovery, he charged close, taking gunfire helplessly.

Unfortunately for him, Sanders and Christine denied any chance of infiltration. Two dazzling beams converged on him, quickly reducing the obvious master to a melting pile of flesh.

“Seven o’clock, be alert!” James’s voice came through the communicator. He scanned with life signs from above, easily spotting outliers.

With over forty guns firing, plus Christine’s and Sanders’s laser cannons providing alternating cover, Wen Tianming’s six men—two already dead—stood no chance. And above them, an attack warship relentlessly poured fire, reporting enemy positions.

“Firepower’s too strong, retreat!” There was no choice. At this intensity, any further assault was impossible.

Just as they neared the tree hole, a bullet tore through one bodyguard’s knee. He collapsed like something had knocked him down.

“Go on without me, I’ll hold them off!” Years of brotherhood and mercenary experience taught these men the brutal reality of war. The fallen man leaned against the tree hole and opened fire on the pursuers.

Wen Tianming, suppressing grief and anger, led the remaining two into the tunnel. James’s life sign scan immediately lost their trail.

“I surrender!” The wounded man shouted after them, “I know critical intelligence!” Implying he wanted mercy.

Zhao Li heard this and hesitated, then caught Li Mengdie’s gaze. Surviving such an attack implied a secret passage. This man was likely important—or a guard for someone vital—possibly holding valuable secrets.

“Drop your weapon, hands on head!” soldiers shouted. Without hesitation, the man complied, sitting with hands on his head.

“Where are the others?” a soldier demanded.

“There is a secret passage here!” The man gestured beside him and carefully moved the bark aside, revealing a dark hole.

Wounded and no longer a threat, soldiers subdued him. Zhao Li and Li Mengdie stepped forward to examine the entrance carefully.

The man on the ground looked at Li Mengdie’s major insignia, his eyes flickering with a strange light.