Ziye barely brushed the object with her little finger; it was Bo’s hand. Bo faced away from her. “Let’s see if we can untie these ropes with all four hands together.”
Ziye couldn’t reach behind to free herself, but untying Bo was much easier. The two set about freeing each other. The ropes were bound excruciatingly tight, and since neither could see, they could only feel their way along slowly.
In the meantime, dawn broke.
Light streamed in through the slats of the metal blinds. Ziye felt the tension in her hands ease. Just as she was considering how to see if anyone was guarding the door outside, the sound of military boots striking the floor echoed from beyond it.
Ziye quickly withdrew her hand, feigning sleep.
Moments later, the door was pushed open, and three figures in forest camouflage entered, dressed exactly as they had been the night before, their faces a blur of camouflage, making it impossible to distinguish one from another. The one in the lead, resembling a skinny monkey, stood at the doorway, nodding for the other two to take them out.
The two were hulking brutes; they hoisted the captives onto their shoulders and walked. Ziye’s head lolled down, blood rushing to her face, making her already faint head spin with hunger.
She desperately wanted to bite down on the man’s back—if she could manage it.
Ziye subtly surveyed her surroundings and realized they were in a forest, likely not far from a camp if her guess was correct. Only hastily cleared paths marked the woods; the area was eerily silent, devoid even of birdsong.
After about a hundred paces, they reached the entrance of another temporary interstellar dwelling. The skinny man underwent an infrared scan at the door. With a sharp ‘beep,’ the door opened.
Ziye calculated internally: if it was an infrared device, dodging the scan wouldn’t be difficult once she found Little Sprout. Even without Little Sprout, she could probably bypass it herself once she got her hands free.
Before the thought was fully formed, a wave of metallic blood scent washed over her, jarring her concentration.
The skinny man chuckled, sidestepping a mass on the floor, and announced to the man lounging in a chair, legs draped over a table, “The people are delivered.”
Ziye, positioned at the front and head down, clearly saw that the mass on the floor was half a torso! The severed edge was ragged and drenched in blood, mixed with the sand of the shoreline—it had been torn apart while alive.
This was terrifying.
Ziye fought down the urge to retch. The next second, she was thrown down beside the gore. The intense stench assaulted her senses; if her stomach hadn't been empty, she would have vomited right there.
“Well, hello there, ***,” the man sat up, smiling with the casual air of someone relaxing in a luxury hotel. “As a rule, I don’t like moving against girls, especially capable ones.” He turned to the skinny man. “Right? One girl managed to take down seven of our robotic wolves single-handedly.”
The skinny man nodded. “And injured one of our brothers.”
Ziye knew instantly she was facing the mastermind.
Truthfully, she was petrified by the sight, but the more scared she felt, the more she dared not show it, employing the Silver Talisman’s signature technique, ‘Stone Face,’ to perfection—maintaining an expression of utter indifference even beside a corpse.
“Oh, still feisty, are we?” The man picked up a cigarette case from the table, drew out a stick, pulled a matchbox, struck a match, lit the cigarette, and exhaled a slow plume of smoke.
Matches had gone extinct over a thousand years ago, yet he carried them around just to light a smoke. Ziye noted that men who were meticulous about such details were invariably the hardest to deal with.
Ziye sat silently on the floor, her face taut, unsure what game he was playing. The aura he exuded was the same as Red Hair’s, perhaps even stronger. The expression on his face while striking the match was as intense as setting a bomb; his gaze, while seemingly harmless, was three parts sharper than a wolf eyeing prey in the dark.
The man leaned down from his superior position, looking down at Ziye, blew a smoke ring, and smiled again. “Interested in joining us?”
Ziye counted in her mind: one, two, three, four, five—a full five seconds passed—before she spoke, “I don’t even know who you people are.”
The man squinted through the hazy smoke at her. “The Phantom Mercenaries. Ever heard of them?”
Ziye blinked blankly. “No.”
Bo, who had been tossed aside and remained silent, suddenly spoke up. “I have.”
The man rose from his chair with great pleasure. “Excellent, finally someone who recognizes quality.” He walked over to Bo, squatted down, and scanned him from front to back. Then, he suddenly threw a punch, connecting sharply with Bo’s head.
The force was tremendous.
Bo’s head snapped sideways as if struck by a sledgehammer, nearly knocking him unconscious. He managed a strained, wry smile. “I was talking, why are you interrupting?”
Bo fell silent, his head wobbling slightly, his eyes fixed on the corpse on the floor. The man clapped his hands, stood up, and returned to his seat. “Even the son of Karu.Emani is no better than this.”
Bo’s expression instantly changed.
They knew his identity! They knew he was the son of Starfleet Commander Karu!
Did the Phantom Mercenaries not fear retaliation from the Starfleet?
Speaking of the Phantom Mercenaries, they were a legend.
They weren't the number one or the strongest mercenary group in the stars, but they were the most terrifying and had the highest success rate. They could appear in any star sector at any time, or perhaps right beside anyone. If the price was right, they could do anything.
Now, the Phantom Mercenaries were targeting Lingsi.
The more Bo thought about it, the colder he felt, as if he’d been plunged into an ice cellar. The chill made him involuntarily shiver.
The man, however, treated him like a plaything, smiling with careless arrogance. “This kid is too weak. Kill him.”
The skinny man approached Bo, raising his bayonet. Though Bo came from an illustrious family, seeing the blade made his face turn ashen.
His bayonet was curved, originally designed to attach to a rifle. The skinny man had modified it, bending the tip into a V-shape. When killing, he could loop the blade around a person's neck and silently slice through it.
The victim wouldn't even have a chance to cry out.
As the saying goes, a man is known by his weapon. One could discern a person’s character from their choice of armament. Someone using a knife like this, modified solely for execution, was clearly a killer.
As the skinny man raised the blade toward Bo, Ziye shouted, “Wait!”
At this moment, showing weakness was the worst thing to do. But Bo was in mortal peril, and despite her determination not to show weakness, the word escaped her.
A flicker of interest crossed the man’s eyes. He tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “***, what do you want to say?”
Ziye straightened her body, her expression blank. “If you’re recruiting me, killing my classmate right in front of me—that doesn’t seem very appropriate, does it?”
The man burst into loud laughter. “Oh, you’re haggling now. What makes you think you hold any leverage?” As soon as he finished speaking, the skinny man rushed forward and kicked her in the spine.
He wore hard military boots; one kick like that would shatter her spine, if not break it outright. Ziye faced away and couldn't see his move, so she felt no fear. But Bo saw everything; he nearly jumped out of his skin in terror and instinctively leaped up, putting himself between Ziye and the attacker.
The skinny man’s kick struck Bo’s thigh. He roared, “Ungrateful brat!” Then, he pressed his weight down onto Bo’s thigh bone.
Bo felt pain pierce his bones. Sweat streamed from his forehead. He bit his lip so hard it broke, and his mouth filled with the taste of blood.
Ziye gained a momentary reprieve. She turned and shoved Bo aside. The skinny man’s next kick landed on her, causing tears to stream down her face from the sheer pain. Her eyes were red, and she stared defiantly at the man. “Is this all the sincerity you offer when recruiting someone?”
The man waved his hand, signaling the skinny man to step back, focusing his gaze entirely on Ziye. “You are a smart person. Tang Wen’s students are indeed different.”
Ziye felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her; she went instantly cold all over.
Tang Wen, again, Tang Wen!
Becoming Tang Wen’s student had shown no discernible benefit so far; instead, she had faced trouble constantly since the semester began. The instructors knew she was Tang Wen’s student, and now even the Phantom Mercenaries knew about it.
‘Tang Wen’s student’ felt like a massive label clamped onto her head.
Yet, at this moment, she had to be grateful to Tang Wen. If she wasn't operating under his name, her fate would likely be no different from the pile of mangled flesh beside her.
“So, are you prepared to show some sincerity now?” Ziye straightened up and asked.
“Haha, you’re lacking sincerity too,” the man walked up to her, his calloused fingertips tracing the soft skin of her cheek. “Kill him, as a show of good faith. How about that?”
Ziye sneered. “I’m not begging to join you. Why should I obey you?”
Since the masks were off, she decided to go all in.
Did they just want to leverage her future against her life? If she didn't care about her life, perhaps they couldn't control her!
The man merely laughed, his laughter sounding utterly triumphant.
Some people are born with an intense need for conquest, and he was one of them. The more stubborn the person, the more he wanted to destroy everything about them in front of their eyes, savoring the sense of achievement as they finally fell, stripped of everything.
After laughing, he leaned his head close, intending to kiss her, when she suddenly sprang up, kicking out with both feet toward his stomach. The man hadn’t anticipated it. Struck, he staggered back three steps, leaning against the table. Ziye had used the corpse as cover to secretly untie her hands, but her feet were still bound, making her unable to stand. She crashed heavily to the floor, and the moment she landed, she snatched the short knife left on the table and slashed through the ropes binding her ankles.
It all happened incredibly fast, taking less than a minute from start to finish.
The skinny man was no amateur.
Just as Ziye prepared her next move, the skinny man’s bayonet pressed against her throat. “Don’t move if you don’t want to die.”
The man straightened up, surprisingly unangry, and praised her. “Now I understand why the robotic wolves weren't your match. You really have some talent…” He reached out, gripped Ziye’s neck, and pulled her close to his face. “Kick me again, why don’t you try?”