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3.71% Strongest Soldier King / Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Waiting for the Right Moment to Risk One's Life

Capítulo 9: Chapter 9: Waiting for the Right Moment to Risk One's Life

The female soldier did not respond, and Luo Zheng could not stand it any longer. For the first time in his life, he ran at such a speedy pace, only to be mocked as a snail crawling along. He immediately shouted coldly and loudly, "Scoundrel, dare to hit your grandpa before bragging. What kind of hero bullies a woman? If you've got the guts, come out and fight me one-on-one. If not, you're the grandson."

After waiting for a while and seeing no response, Luo Zheng knew that the provocation was useless. Running out like this was definitely not going to work. His speed, which he thought was quite good, might be nothing in the eyes of these experts. They refrained from shooting just to avoid exposing themselves. During the time he had spoken, they probably had changed hiding spots already. What to do?

Suddenly, Luo Zheng remembered something from his hunting days before he joined the Army. When facing cunning prey, with traps and schemes being ineffective, the best method was to engage in a battle of courage, to see who dared to risk it all. In the eyes of the enemy, he was insignificant, and even if he exposed himself, they wouldn't dare to shoot easily, because there was a female soldier behind him with divine marksmanship.

"It's a fight to the death anyway, let's go all out," Luo Zheng glanced at the hidden female soldier nearby, only to discover she was gone. Certain that the female soldier would not abandon him and retreat first, he shouted loudly, "Scoundrel, your grandpa is coming out. If you don't have the guts, just keep hiding like the turtle you are." Saying this, he slowly walked out from behind the tree, nervously watching the front.

After about two seconds with no one shooting, Luo Zheng knew he had gambled correctly. With his courage bolstered, he continued forward, no longer seeking cover. Had the enemy wanted to shoot, he would have been dead many times over by now. Thinking of his brutally murdered comrades, Luo Zheng's eyes turned bloodshot as he shouted furiously, "Come out, you cowardly turtles. Bastards, if you've got the balls, come and kill me!"

Suddenly, Luo Zheng's vision blurred, and a pair of large feet flew at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. There was no time for any reaction. He felt his entire body fly through the air and slam heavily into a big tree, before rolling to the ground. He heard the sound of "whoosh whoosh!" as two gunshots rang out. His mouth split open, spewing out a mouthful of fresh blood. The only thought in his mind was how fast that kick was. Then everything went dark, and he knew no more.

Not knowing how much time had passed, Luo Zheng slowly regained consciousness and groggily awoke. He felt a burning pain in his chest and, upon opening his eyes, saw he was still in the forest under a tree with no one else around. Farther off, a gunshot sounded, and then all was silent again.

"Hiss—" Luo Zheng moved slightly and felt as if his chest was about to split open. He chuckled bitterly. In the face of absolute strength, he was nothing. Luckily, his family's Breathing Heart Method helped him recover swiftly from injuries. Otherwise, that kick would have left him either dead or disabled. Those people were very strong. Who exactly were they? Looking up at the sky, it was gradually dimming, and occasionally the sound of gunfire echoed from deep within the forest. The battle was still ongoing.

With that thought, Luo Zheng knew he had to recover quickly. The primeval forest at night was even more terrifying. He struggled to sit up on the ground, began to breathe using the family's secret technique, and gradually, after about half an hour, the burning in his chest subsided, and breathing became smoother. Luo Zheng vaguely felt that his healing ability had improved.

After a while, Luo Zheng felt much better. He touched his chest, grateful for his ancestors' Breathing Heart Method, which really strengthened his recovery. Looking around, he soon spotted a body not far away. Luo Zheng slowly approached and saw it was a Westerner, with blue eyes and a high nose, shot through the chest.

"Karma, got what he deserved." Luo Zheng guessed it was the work of the female soldier and cursed satisfyingly. He saw a handgun on the body, quickly pulled it out, and after a quick search, found two magazines. Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly noticed a familiar Army dagger tucked into the man's boots.

Luo Zheng pulled out the item and saw it was the familiar Type 65 Army dagger, the cherished possession of his squad deputy, engraved with the character "Hai," supposedly a military award given by his superiors. Luo Zheng had often borrowed it for fun and could not mistake it. He immediately realized the person before him was the murderer of his comrade, and a towering rage erupted within him.

"It's the murderer indeed." Luo Zheng angrily stood up, turned, and walked toward the direction of the gunfire, his expression so gloomy it seemed almost able to drip water. After taking a couple of steps, Luo Zheng stopped, returned to the killer's side, quickly stripped off the disguise and combat uniform, then tried on the military boots too; they were a bit large but wearable.

After donning the enemy's gear, Luo Zheng smeared mud over his face. Once he felt the disguise was adequate, he kicked the man hard and headed towards the direction of the gunfire, rubbing his chest to recover from his injuries. With his enemy ahead and no turning back, Luo Zheng's eyes were bloodshot, his mind consumed by the single thought of revenge.

After a while, the sound of gunfire grew clearer. Considering he was wearing the enemy's uniform, Luo Zheng wasn't worried about being taken by surprise by enemy fire. Even if it came to a surprise shot, there was no way around it; the difference in capability was too great, hiding was a joke. He might as well go straight ahead and adapt to the situation.

Perhaps it was indeed due to the equipment he was wearing, Luo Zheng managed to approach the forest where both sides were exchanging fire without being shot at. Bullets whizzed by without revealing anyone's hiding spot, so he found place to hide, switched off the safety on his handgun, and prepared himself. Advanced weapons were beyond his capability, but he could handle a handgun with its relatively simple construction.

After observing for a while, Luo Zheng noticed two people shooting in one direction while only one person returned fire from the other side. Making his judgment, he immediately moved toward the two shooters, using a method taught by a female soldier: each step he took was in the blind spot formed by three trees.

A gunshot sounded and Luo Zheng, based on the sound, estimated the enemy's approximate concealed position, not more than a couple of dozen meters from him. When he was uninjured, he had already struggled against the enemy; with his current wounds, advancing head-on would be suicide. An idea struck him – a wait-and-see approach – and he quickly found a suitable hiding place.

Luo Zheng knew that these battle-hardened experts were extremely sensitive to killing intent. To avoid alerting the enemy of his presence, he switched to using the Breathing Skill passed down in his family, imagining himself as part of the tree. Gradually, his breathing became smooth and long. His eyes nearly closed, he used his peripheral vision to observe the area in front of him and sensed the position of the enemy with his heart, ignoring the surrounding gunfire completely.

He didn't know how long it had been – perhaps a minute, perhaps three, or even longer – when a barely perceptible footstep sounded. Luo Zheng knew the enemy was approaching. He didn't move. To hunt, he had lain in the snow for three hours when he was fifteen, waiting until the prey carelessly approached before shooting.

At this critical moment, fueled by the drive for vengeance, Luo Zheng's potential surged, and he stayed motionless, silently gauging the distance of the approaching enemy, counting their footsteps, calculating the distance between them.


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