The entire Sand Valley has completely turned into an Asura Slaughter.

Flickering flames distort and amplify the shadows of the frenzied combatants, projecting them onto the sand dunes like a dance of demons.

Gunshots, explosions—the sound of someone detonating a hand grenade in despair.

Also, the clashing of metal, the sound of blades piercing flesh, bones shattering, the wails of the dying, the curses of despair, the fighting over water bottles…

All these sounds merge together to form a mad and bloody symphony, echoing under the cold desert night sky.

The thick stench of blood and gunpowder hangs heavily, resting like lead on the lungs of every survivor.

Song Heping, like a tireless killing machine, charged left and right amidst the chaotic crowd.

The bullets were spent; the Mad Dog Tactical Knife had long turned dark red, with viscous blood dripping continuously from the blade.

The desert camouflage on his body had already been soaked through with the blood of both enemies and himself, sticking tightly to him, each swing splattering a trail of blood.

His breathing was like a broken bellows, each inhale filled with the rich scent of blood and gunpowder, each exhale releasing hot white mist.

Sharp pain emanated from multiple places on his body—a stray bullet scraped his arm, burning hotly; a bayonet had sliced a cut under his ribs, fresh blood continuously seeping, staining the waist of his gear belt.

The feeling of thirst seemed temporarily numb amidst the fierce fighting, but every powerful swing, every heavy breath, reminded him of the rapid loss of body fluid. Fatigue, like an icy tide, relentlessly attacked his will.

But he couldn't stop!

He was the Head Wolf of the pack, the leader of this bloody feast!

A soldier from GNA, exceptionally tall, with a face full of flesh, eyes glinting like a trapped beast, roared while swinging a hammer procured from who knows where, rushing towards Song Heping!

The hammer, carrying a dull wind, aimed fiercely at Song Heping's head!

Song Heping's pupils constricted, his body instinctively leaning back to its limit!

The hammerhead whistled past the tip of his nose! He could even feel the icy touch of the metal and the force of the wind it carried!

In the instant the opponent's move was exhausted and his body leaned forward, Song Heping sprang back like a compressed spring!

He didn't even have time to raise his knife, his body shot into the opponent's embrace like a bullet!

With lightning speed, his left hand grasped the opponent's wrist holding the hammer, while the fingers of his right hand clumped together with remaining strength like an iron chisel, stabbing fiercely towards the opponent's unprotected throat!

"Uh!"

A short, muffled crack of throat bones! The strong man's eyes instantly widened, filled with disbelief and intense pain, the hammer falling from his grip.

Song Heping didn't pause, spun his body with momentum, and his right knee rammed the opponent's crotch like a battering ram!

"Ow—!"

A non-human scream squeezed out from the strong man's throat, his body collapsing like a toppled mountain, clutching his lower body with his hands, convulsing violently.

Song Heping didn't even look at him; as he straightened up, the corner of his eye caught a weak glint—the shadow of a nearby pickup truck wreck!

An obviously more professional soldier, with a calm gaze, was half-kneeling, assault rifle aimed squarely at him!

It was an SBS!

The iconic weapon silhouette of the British Special Boat Squadron!

Song Heping's heart clenched tight!

A cold premonition of death seized him instantly!

No time to think!

His instincts were faster than his consciousness!

Song Heping lunged sideways, simultaneously shouting with all his might, "SBS! Conceal!"

Tat-tat-tat-tat—!!!

Scorching bullets like fangs of a poisonous snake, grazed past his rolling body, biting fiercely into the sandy ground where he had stood moments before, kicking up columns of sand!

Thud-thud-thud! Bullets striking the sheet metal of the pickup truck wreck, emitting sharp noises, and sparks flew!

"Fuck!"

The wrench's shout of rage came from nearby, he evidently spotted the lethal threat, immediately releasing a salvo towards the pickup truck wreck, causing sparks to fly off the metal.

Warheads pierced through the thin metal shell of the truck bed, turning the SBS member inside into a sieve.

Song Heping rolled several times, taking cover behind a toppled desert motorcycle, sitting down on the ground against the bike.

The cold metal shell pressed against his back, offering a misleading sense of security.

He breathed heavily, his lungs scorchingly painful, the extreme evasion nearly exhausting his last ounce of strength.

Cold sweat mixed with blood, slid from his temple, stinging his eyes. He wiped his face, feeling his hand slick with viscous blood.

The appearance of that SBS member was like a piece of ice thrown into a boiling oil pot.

It instantly extinguished Song Ping's brief fervor for bloodshed and conquest of the water source, replaced by bone-chilling cold and a pronounced sense of warning.

Those well-trained, well-equipped SBS Special Soldiers!

They were the real threat!

That burst of bullets just now was a warning of death narrowly missed!

This place was not suitable for staying long!

The chaotic massacre was drawing to a close.

The Sand Valley was strewn with corpses, blood staining large patches of sand, appearing grotesquely black-purple in the cold moonlight.

Sporadic resistance snuffed out quickly like candles in the wind.

Disaster Star and his men were clearing out the last corners, while Wrench's men held firm to the pile of precious water bladders, vigilantly scanning the surroundings.

The thirst, like an awakened demon, savagely retaliated, the burning sensation in his throat tenfold stronger than before!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com