213: Chapter 213 The last fifty kilometers were simply hell!

The faint glimmer of dawn, like a thin layer of blood, stained the eastern horizon of the Gobi Desert.

Qin Feng stretched, then kicked the Black Scorpion captain he had shot dead; the corpse rolled limply to the side.

"Daybreak. Let's move."

The surviving female prisoners huddled in the shadows of the river valley, some having not slept all night.

Last night's slaughter and explosions played over and over in their minds like a nightmare they couldn't wake up from.

One of the slightly bolder female soldiers, whose lips were cracked and peeling, licked them and pleaded in a hoarse voice.

"We... we can't walk anymore. Water... can you give us some water?"

Everyone's gaze converged on Qin Feng, carrying a hint of begging.

Qin Feng unhooked a water skin from the horse's back; it was something he had scavenged from the Black Scorpion squad.

He unscrewed the cap and walked over to the female soldier.

Hope ignited in the female soldier's eyes as she struggled to reach out with both hands.

Qin Feng tilted the water skin, and a thin stream of water flowed out, just enough to fill the tiny cap.

"Drink it sparingly. There's one more serving at noon."

After saying this, he screwed the cap back on and hung the water skin back on the horse.

The female soldier held that small cap of water, her entire body freezing up.

The hope that had just ignited in the eyes of the surrounding female prisoners was instantly extinguished, replaced by a bone-chilling cold.

Just this much?

This wasn't water; it was bait to keep them alive, and a whip to urge them on.

"Move."

Qin Feng didn't waste any more words; he led the horse and headed east first.

Yaro and Lanna exchanged a glance and silently followed.

They had already become accustomed to this man's style of doing things.

The remaining female prisoners, driven by despair and the instinct to survive, followed one after another, tied together by a rope.

The last fifty kilometers.

These fifty kilometers were harder to endure than all the previous hundreds of kilometers of flight combined.

The Gobi Desert by day was a giant oven.

The sun overhead scorched the earth mercilessly, and the sand was hot enough to cook an egg.

The air distorted everything within sight, with nothing but monotonous Gobi plains everywhere.

The group moved extremely slowly, like a pack of walking corpses whose souls had been extracted.

Sweat evaporated the moment it appeared, leaving only a layer of white salt frost on their skin.

Their lips cracked and bled; every word spoken felt like being cut by a knife.

"I... I can't go on..." A female soldier's legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the sand, unable to get back up.

The group stopped, and everyone looked at her, their eyes filled with the sorrow of seeing one of their own fall.

Qin Feng stopped and looked back.

There was no expression on his face—neither sympathy nor impatience.

"Yaro, tell them how far we have left."

"In a straight line, forty-eight kilometers."

"Did you hear that?" Qin Feng's voice cut through the heat waves and reached everyone's ears.

"Forty-eight kilometers. In two, maybe three days, we'll make it."

"Once we reach the border, there's a Dragon Country outpost."

"By then, forget about water; you could even soak in a bathtub if you wanted."

"And food—steaming hot white rice topped with braised pork gravy, the pork belly stewed until it melts in your mouth, rich but not greasy..."

He described the details of the food in a flat, matter-of-fact tone, every word like a hook, snagging the prisoners' will to survive.

"And chicken soup, sprinkled with green onions, fragrant and mouth-watering."

"Don't want a big meal? That's fine, there's also toasted bread with thick butter..."

Gulp.

Someone, it wasn't clear who, swallowed hard.

The female soldier lying on the ground struggled to lift her head, her eyes full of longing.

"Liar... you're lying..." she muttered, yet she couldn't help but imagine the scene.

"I never lie," Qin Feng interrupted her.

"I only give you a choice. Either get up now, follow me, and go eat braised pork."

"Or, just lie here and wait for those friends in the sky to come down and taste your flesh."

He lifted his chin and pointed to the sky.

At some point, several black vultures had begun circling above them, patiently waiting as if for a feast.

A chill rose up her spine, instantly dispelling the intense heat.

The fallen female soldier looked at the vultures in the sky, then at Qin Feng's cold back, and a strong will to survive overcame her exhaustion.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up with her companions' help.

"Move... I can move..."

The group began to shuffle forward again.

A smile curled the corner of Qin Feng's mouth, unnoticed by anyone.

Selling dreams was his specialty, after all.

In such extreme circumstances, there was no other way but willpower.

To survive, one must have a firm conviction.

...

By evening, the sun finally sank below the horizon.

The intense heat of the day quickly faded, replaced by a cold, biting wind.

The huge temperature difference made the scantily clad female prisoners shiver.

They huddled together like a flock of frightened quails, forced to keep each other warm.

Qin Feng sat alone on a rock not far away, like a statue blending into the night.

"Awooo—"

A long, lingering wolf howl echoed from the distance across the empty Gobi Desert, tightening the already frayed nerves of the female prisoners.

Qin Feng stood up, picked up his sniper rifle, and said to Yaro and Lanna: "Keep an eye on them."

He then disappeared into the night.

Not long after, a muffled gunshot rang out from the distance.

The female prisoners were stirred into a panic, thinking the enemy had come again.

Lanna, however, appeared very calm: "Don't worry, the Chef is preparing something for you to stay alive."

Yaro said nothing, only gripped her gun tighter and vigilantly observed their surroundings.

She didn't understand; this man seemed to have no limits.

His energy, his judgment, his coldness—all of it exceeded her understanding of a "human."

Ten minutes later, Qin Feng returned, carrying a wild wolf that was still dripping with blood on his shoulder.

He threw the wolf carcass on the ground, used his dagger to cleanly slash the wolf's throat, and poured the warm wolf blood into an empty water skin.

"Replenish your hydration and protein."

He handed the water skin filled with wolf blood to the female prisoners.

"Drink."

A strong, pungent smell of blood hit them, and one female soldier bent over on the spot and started dry-heaving.

The female prisoners' faces showed terror and disgust.

They were soldiers, not savages.

Drink blood? This was simply unimaginable.

"Not drinking?" Qin Feng raised an eyebrow.

"That's fine. Before you die of thirst, you'll probably go insane first."

"I've seen people go crazy from thirst, drinking their own urine."

"You can try that and see how it tastes."

He said it so nonchalantly, but to the female prisoners, it sounded more terrifying than any threat.

Lanna was the first to step forward, taking the water skin from his hands and tilting her head back to take a large gulp.

As the thick, warm liquid slid down her throat, she frowned, then passed the water skin to Yaro.

"Tastes like rust," she said, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth, "but it's better than nothing."

Yaro took it, expressionless, and took a drink as well.