Chapter Forty: Do You Enjoy Playing Dirty?

The roar of gunfire gradually grew clearer. After more than half an hour of circling around to one side of the glacier, Fang Mu finally heard the shots and instinctively looked up. What he saw made his eyes widen in shock.

In the distance, tongues of flame erupted violently, directed at a monstrous avian beast towering over ten meters high. Yet despite the oppressive hail of fire, the creature was pinned to the ground, unable to take flight.

The ammunition, clearly made of metallic alloys, struck the beast in a relentless barrage. But the damage inflicted was minimal—these bullets were never meant to kill. Their purpose was only to suppress, leveraging sheer kinetic force to keep the creature grounded.

“So it really is a golden-class creature...”

Fang Mu was shaken to his core. This was his first time witnessing such a beast, and the spectacle was overwhelming.

A barrage of over a hundred heavy machine guns could reduce steel plating to rags, yet all they managed here was to keep the golden beast from flying. The actual harm was negligible, a testament to the creature’s terrifying resilience.

“I wonder which faction is hunting a golden-class creature here, only to be targeted by the Wolves of Greed?”

Fang Mu’s thoughts raced. The battle was at least four or five kilometers away, and as a mere Iron-rank, he could only make out the chaos from afar—the identities of those fighting were lost to him.

He shook his head, dismissing the matter. Whoever it was, it had little to do with him.

His gaze swept the landscape. Suddenly, he froze. He spotted several figures in white ghillie suits, stealthily approaching the fray.

It was the Wolves of Greed.

Their target was indeed the group hunting the golden creature.

They had already closed to within a kilometer, drawing ever nearer. The hunters, intent on suppressing the beast, remained oblivious to the encroaching threat.

Once the Wolves got close enough and struck, the hunters would be caught off guard and suffer heavy casualties.

Fang Mu knew well that the Wolves of Greed, though few in number, were all elite fighters—most were Silver-rank close combat evolvers. There might even be a few Gold-rank among them.

The Wolves were thoroughly prepared.

Fang Mu took a deep breath, scanning his surroundings. He quickly locked onto a small glacier and, without hesitation, sprinted toward it.

“I have to hurry, or once the Wolves make their move, that group won’t stand a chance,” he thought.

His primary goal was to kill Chang Le. But if he could sabotage the Wolves’ operation along the way, he’d be more than pleased.

As the saying goes—hate by association.

The Wolves of Greed had hounded him time and again. His resentment now extended to them as well.

With this in mind, he picked up his pace, swiftly heading for the small glacier.

After another dozen minutes, the Wolves had crept to within three hundred meters of their quarry. Disguised in their snow-white ghillie suits, they remained undetected.

The frequency of gunfire had noticeably slackened. After hours of relentless suppression, their ammunition was running low, spent casings littered the ground, and the acrid stench of gunpowder filled the air.

The golden beast, too, had slowed. Blood streaked its massive frame, and after hours of fighting, its genetic energy reserves were nearly depleted.

Lin Chuyin and her companions’ eyes shone with hope. Though exhausted, they glimpsed the end.

Chang Le and the four gunners gripped their weapons tightly, aware that the decisive moment was at hand.

Once their leader and the others charged, it would signal the start of the final assault.

They needed to stay focused, ready to support their captain with well-timed gunfire at the critical moment.

Tension thickened; even the air seemed to freeze.

But no one noticed that, at that very moment, a figure had climbed halfway up a small glacier overlooking the battlefield.

It was Fang Mu.

From this vantage, he could clearly see the four gunners hidden in a crevice of the ice.

He didn’t climb any higher—once shots rang out, the peak would be the first place the enemy checked. Climbing to the top would be reckless.

This spot was perfect.

He pulled out his D-785 rifle, a meter and a half of cold, black steel gleaming with a ghostly sheen. Dropping to one knee, he steadied his aim on the icy rift.

Through the 32x scope, Chang Le’s tense, slightly excited expression filled the crosshairs.

The distance to the crevice was eight hundred meters, and from the side. Chang Le, focused on the battle ahead, sensed nothing of the cold barrel now trained on him.

Humidity, range, wind speed, temperature—every variable flashed through Fang Mu’s mind as he adjusted his aim and locked it in.

He was certain—he could take Chang Le’s head with a single shot.

But then, he reached for his rarely used wireless earpiece, placing it in his left ear. With one hand, he dialed a number.

Beep... beep...

The earpiece crackled.

In the scope, Chang Le suddenly paused, frowning as he set his rifle aside and checked his communicator.

He looked at the screen, puzzled, but after a moment’s hesitation, answered.

“Hello? Who is this?”

Fang Mu grinned and asked a single question.

“You like firing from the shadows, don’t you?”

“Huh?” Chang Le was momentarily stunned, not understanding.

But in the next instant, a sudden, chilling sense of doom washed over him. His face blanched, but before he could react—

Crack!

A crimson flash pierced his skull.

His eyes flew wide, blank with confusion.

And then—

Boom!

Flames erupted.

“Chang Le?!”

The three gunners beside him recoiled in shock as the inferno flared, forcing them back.

At that moment, a distant thunderclap echoed across the field.

The unmistakable report of a sniper rifle.

Someone was picking them off.

All three gunners whipped around, staring toward the source of the shot.

Each was a top marksman within the Wolves of Greed, or they wouldn’t have been here.

Just from the sound, they instantly deduced—

The sniper was on that small glacier.

Swish!

Three rifles swung as one, scopes trained on the snowy hill.

But there, among the pristine drifts, not a shadow could be seen.