110: Chapter 110 Desperate Situation: The Hunt and the Kill

Lucian's lungs felt like they were about to burst. The werewolf endurance he once took pride in had become a total joke at this moment.

"Damn it, how can these electric vehicles run so fast?!"

On the Gobi desert behind him, hundreds of headlights formed a long dragon of fire, like soul-reaping ghost fires that he couldn't shake off no matter what.

He had never run so pathetically in his life. Even a hundred years ago, when Victor chased him into the sewers, he hadn't felt this hopeless.

Under the silver glow of the full moon, the highway checkpoint lay ahead. Barbed wire, roadblocks, and armored vehicles blocked the only road into Yellowstone Town.

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To retreat was to face deadly pursuers.

To advance was to face the blocking National Guard.

Only by rushing into the buildings of Yellowstone Town could he lose the electric vehicle fleet behind him and hide using urban warfare.

A flash of ruthlessness crossed Lucian's crimson eyes: "Charge through! Settle this quickly! Once we're in the town, we'll have a place to hide!"

Having survived Victor's pursuit for over a hundred years, Lucian and his pack were never pushovers.

...

At the Gobi highway checkpoint, Captain Hamilton of the National Guard had a cigar in his mouth as he looked at the intelligence report, his face full of disdain.

The camp was brightly lit and fully equipped.

There were 2 M1 Abrams main battle tanks, 6 M2 Bradley infantry fighting vehicles, 16 Humvees, and 15 trucks. In the sky, an Apache attack helicopter circled at low altitude.

With a force of nearly 800 men, their equipment could be described as luxurious. Every soldier was equipped with infrared night vision goggles worth tens of thousands of dollars, and their rifles were loaded with grenade launchers and tactical accessories.

Therefore, no one took this mission seriously.

Hamilton blew a smoke ring, mentally calculating how much of the 5 million dollars Victor had provided would end up in his own pocket after this mission was over.

The orders from above were to clear out "anomalous biological entities," but in Hamilton's eyes, it was just a bunch of redneck bikers smuggling arms. He could make some extra cash just by going through the motions.

He kicked a soldier dozing off beside him: "Take off those night vision goggles; there's nothing to see in this broken desert. Just rush in later, fire a few shots, and be done with it. Don't scuff up the equipment, or it'll be hard to report the expenses when we get back."

The soldiers responded with laughter, tossing their guns aside to smoke or play cards. No one kept the mission in mind.

"Sir! Movement on the radar! A large number of high-speed targets are approaching!"

The shout from the observation post shattered the camp's relaxed atmosphere.

Hamilton frowned and took the binoculars. Through the night vision, dense black shadows were charging at an incredible speed, moving on all fours like cheetahs.

His subordinate's voice trembled: "Sir... these things... they look like werewolves?"

Hamilton blanked for a moment, then let out a scoff.

He originally thought the intelligence was wrong, and that the higher-ups were just using the clearing of anomalous creatures as an excuse to have them wipe out an armed organization for extra cash. He hadn't expected it to be real.

But he still didn't take it seriously.

No matter how supernatural something was, could it withstand a tank shell?

"All units, battle stations! Target 1,000 meters ahead, fire at will!"

The soldiers grumbled as they picked up their guns, lazily walked to the front of their vehicles, and aimed.

Through the night vision goggles, the black shadows grew closer, and the silhouettes of the werewolves became clearer.

The casualness on the soldiers' faces gradually vanished. Their palms began to sweat, and their fingers instinctively tightened around their triggers.

"Fire!"

As the order fell, shells, machine-gun fire, and grenades poured out instantly, the night lit bright red by the artillery fire.

The soldiers finally experienced the feeling of full-throttle firepower. Seeing the werewolves in the lead blown apart by the shells, they began to roar with excitement.

But gradually, their excitement froze on their faces.

The werewolves that had been blown down or riddled with bullets shook their heads and actually stood back up. Dragging their mangled bodies, they continued to charge forward like madmen.

They were running with desperate intensity, as if their tails were on fire, with only the single thought of breaking through the checkpoint in their eyes.

"Damn it! Why won't they die?!"

"Aim for the head! Shoot them in the head!"

The soldiers panicked and began to spray fire frantically.

But they found that even at close range, they had to empty an entire magazine just to barely kill a single werewolf.

And the werewolves were too fast; they covered several hundred meters in just over ten seconds, reaching the front lines.

The first soldier couldn't take it anymore and turned to scramble into a Humvee.

Where there was a first, there was a second. The original defensive line collapsed instantly as soldiers ran toward the vehicles like madmen.

But they were too slow.

The werewolves had already breached the camp.

Private Cole was the first to hide inside a Humvee.

He huddled in the passenger seat, lowered the window just a crack, and fired outward, his mind filled with only one thought: as long as he didn't get disciplined.

But before he could finish changing his magazine, a blood-curdling scream exploded in his ear.

A comrade outside had his throat slashed open by a werewolf's claw, spraying blood all over the car window.

Another soldier turned to try and pull open the car door, but was pounced upon from behind by a werewolf, which bit off more than half of his face.

Cole's heart was about to leap out of his chest, and his hands and feet were ice-cold.

He personally witnessed a comrade beside him empty an entire magazine into a werewolf's chest at point-blank range before finally killing it.

But more werewolves had already charged over. Screams, the sound of bones shattering, and wolf howls mixed together. A hellish scene unfolded before his eyes.

In the sky, the Apache lowered its flight altitude significantly for precision strikes, pouring rockets into the werewolf pack.

But the next second, a burly werewolf suddenly leaped up, jumping a full ten meters high, and grabbed the helicopter's landing gear with its claws.

The pilot pulled up frantically, but the werewolf held on tight and climbed along the landing gear into the cockpit.

Shrill screams came through the communicator. Immediately after, the helicopter spun out of control in the air and slammed into a nearby hillside, exploding with a roar.

Cole completely broke down.

"Get in the vehicles! Get back in the vehicles!" he screamed at his comrades outside.

Everyone realized what was happening and scrambled like madmen into Humvees and M2 Bradley infantry fighting vehicles.

But they soon discovered that the ordinary military trucks offered no shelter because they had no doors at the back!

Only the Humvees and infantry fighting vehicles could offer some protection.

But there were only so many vehicles, and they couldn't possibly hold nearly a thousand people.

"Enter through the back door! Don't crowd the front door!" Cole shouted at his comrades outside.

A few veterans realized this and circled to the back to try and open the door, but several recruits were single-minded, clinging desperately to the front door and banging on it, shouting to be let in.

"Idiots! You're going to get us killed!" Cole roared, his eyes red.

The next second, a bloody maw reached in from the side and bit clean through the neck of the recruit clinging to the door.

Warm blood splattered all over Cole's face.

Seeing the werewolf devouring his companion's corpse right outside the window, Cole went completely insane. He pulled the pin on an M67 Grenade and threw it out through the gap in the window.

"Get down!"

With an explosion, the werewolves surrounding the vehicle were blown into pieces of flesh.

But more werewolves swarmed over, drawn by the scent of blood.

Cole watched as a nearby M2 Bradley was already packed with people, yet soldiers were still trying to squeeze inside like madmen.

The door wasn't closed, and a werewolf slipped through the gap. Immediately after, heart-wrenching screams and frantic roars echoed from inside the vehicle.

He looked up sharply and saw a comrade at the roof weapon station still manning the machine gun. He wanted to pull him down.

But before he could speak, a black shadow flashed by, and his comrade was snatched away by a massive force, leaving only half a leg to fall onto the roof.

"Block the roof! Quick!" Cole shouted in terror.

But the vehicle was packed to the brim. The Humvee, which normally held 5 people, was stuffed with over a dozen, like a can of sardines. There wasn't even room to lift a hand, let alone block anything.

What he feared most happened.

A werewolf lunged directly onto the roof, its bloody maw reaching into the vehicle through the opening. Foul-smelling saliva dripped onto the soldiers' faces.

Cole was quick. He jammed his gun barrel hard into the werewolf's mouth and pulled the trigger.

The werewolf's head was blown apart, and it collapsed limply onto the roof.

But he had forgotten that in the cramped cabin, bullets would ricochet.

Ricochets bounced around the metal cabin, wounding several soldiers who let out shrill screams.

But no one cared about that; everyone's attention was on the wolf howls drawing closer and closer outside.

Just then, something happened that drove Cole to complete despair.

A soldier inside, terrified out of his wits, suddenly pulled open the back door and ran out like a madman.

He hadn't run two steps before his neck was snapped by a passing werewolf.

And that werewolf slipped directly into the cabin through the open door.

Cole's mind went blank. His only thought was to run.

He pulled open the door on the other side, rolled out, and scrambled under the vehicle.

He covered his mouth tightly, not daring to make a single sound.

The werewolves' roars on the roof, the screams of his comrades, and the sound of bones breaking continued one after another.

Finally, the explosion of a grenade sounded, and the interior of the vehicle went completely silent.

Cole huddled under the vehicle, shaking like a leaf, his eyes fixed on the surrounding darkness, terrified that a bloody maw would appear before him at any second.

After an unknown amount of time, he heard the wolf howls gradually fade into the distance.

Immediately after, a massive fleet of vehicles sped past without stopping, chasing in the direction of the town.

Cole didn't dare come out.

Not long after, another fleet stopped at the checkpoint. The sound of orderly footsteps approached as people began to clear the battlefield and check the bodies.

He still huddled under the vehicle, not even daring to breathe loudly.

Until the light of a flashlight shone directly onto his face.

Cole instantly sprang up, aiming his gun at the light source, only to see a dozen dark muzzles pointed straight at him.

Seeing the attire of the people opposite him, Cole's tense nerves instantly relaxed.

They weren't werewolves, nor were they from the National Guard.

The people opposite wore black standard combat uniforms with a prominent double-headed eagle emblem embroidered on their chests. They were methodically clearing the battlefield and burning the corpses torn apart by the werewolves.

Looking around, Cole's tears instantly fell.

The entire checkpoint had turned into a slaughterhouse, with blood, scraps of meat, and burnt-out vehicles everywhere.

Looking around, Cole's tears instantly fell.

The entire checkpoint had turned into a slaughterhouse, with blood, scraps of meat, and burnt-out vehicles everywhere.

Of their full force of 800 men, fewer than 80 were standing here alive!

...

Rewinding time to about ten minutes ago.

On the Gobi highway, Ronan was sitting in a Humvee, his face full of gloom.

Just because his company was stationed on the far eastern side of the factory area, furthest from the vehicle testing plant, by the time they reached the garage, the first batch of vehicles had already been snatched up by other companies.

By the time they finally managed to grab the vehicles left behind by the farm owners who had come for the meeting, the other companies had already chased the werewolves out of sight.

At the thought of the companies ahead already snatching kills, earning military merit, getting bonuses, and even having the chance to be allocated housing, his subordinates in the vehicle were all cursing.

"Damn it! Just one step behind! All the military merit has been snatched by those brats in front!"

"I've been saving up points for half a year, just waiting for this chance to exchange for a better set of Power Armor. Now it's all down the drain!"

A veteran looked at Ronan with a bitter face: "Second Lieutenant, you really can't blame us! The ones who run fast are those eighteen or nineteen-year-old kids. How can we older guys outrun them?"

Ronan snapped back irritably: "Bullshit! You're only a few years older than them. What kind of 'older guys' are you? Usually, when I tell you to train your physical fitness, every one of you slacks off. Now you know how to be anxious?"

Just as he finished speaking, the soldier driving shouted.

"Second Lieutenant! Something's happening ahead!"

Ronan instantly sat up straight, took a look through his binoculars, and immediately ordered: "Stop! Everyone out, clear the battlefield!"

His subordinates were stunned: "Second Lieutenant? We're not chasing anymore? Any later and all the kills will be gone!"

"Are you stupid?!" Ronan cursed. "With these few broken cars of ours, can we catch up? Even if we do, we won't get any share of the kills! The Governor already said that anyone bitten by werewolves will undergo mutation and become servants of Khorne. Clearing out the ones that slipped through the net counts as military merit just the same!"

"Oh, right!"

The soldiers in the vehicle instantly realized and grabbed their guns to dismount. They spread out cautiously in tactical formation to search the entire checkpoint.

The level of carnage at the scene made even these veterans, who were used to the slaughter of the Hive City, gasp.

The National Guard had been unilaterally slaughtered. Body parts were everywhere, and many corpses had clear bite marks on their necks.

"Remember to finish off the corpses! Make sure these demons are dead for good," Ronan ordered sternly.

The soldiers immediately stepped forward, firing finishing shots into the wolf corpses on the ground one by one.

After a search, they found only a few National Guard soldiers huddled in corners, terrified out of their wits. Not a single living werewolf was found.

"They died so cleanly, we didn't even get a drop of soup," a subordinate complained, kicking a corpse on the ground in frustration.

Ronan was also a bit disappointed. He took off his helmet and picked up his communicator, preparing to report the situation to the rear.

Just then, the eerie sound of bones grinding and muscles tearing came from behind him.

"Watch out!"

Just as his subordinate's shout fell, a National Guard corpse on the ground that had been bitten to death suddenly began to twitch. Its body twisted at a bizarre angle, and fangs and claws instantly pierced through the skin as it turned into a hideous mutated werewolf, pouncing toward Ronan's back.

Ronan reacted instantly, dodging to the side, but he was still a step too slow. A deep gash was torn into his cheek by the claws, and blood instantly poured out.

"Looking for death!"

Ronan was enraged. He drew the Chainsword from his waist and, accompanied by the roar of the Chainsword, split the pouncing mutated werewolf in two.

Even more corpses around them began to twitch and mutate, pouncing toward the soldiers.

Although the attack was sudden, in the face of absolute equipment superiority, these newly mutated werewolves were no match at all and were slaughtered within minutes.

"Second Lieutenant! Are you alright?" a subordinate rushed over and asked, looking at Ronan's cheek with concern.

Ronan waved his hand and picked up the communicator:

"Guard Second Lieutenant Ronan reporting: National Guard soldiers bitten or killed by Khorne's kin have all mutated and have been cleared. The scene requires flame purification."

He paused and added in a calm tone: "Additionally, I was scratched by a Khorne kin during combat. I am temporarily handing over command and requesting follow-up purification support."

With that, he handed over his weapon and removed his Power Armor.

His subordinate was stunned.

Ronan glared at him: "What are you standing there for? Execute the order."

...

Meanwhile, on the other side, Fu Haoran was leading a team to assemble and head toward a remote manor.

This was Victor's territory.

[Slaanesh lair discovered, issuing mission...]

Seeing rewards identical to those for killing werewolves, Fu Haoran smiled.

Originally, he just wanted to come and try his luck, but he hadn't expected to actually guess correctly.

Perfect.

New and old scores, we'll settle them all together today.

Inside the manor, Victor stood before the floor-to-ceiling window on the top floor, looking at the approaching fleet down the hill, his crimson pupils full of disdain.

He picked up a wine glass filled with blood, swirled it gently, and said with a scoff: "Idiots. I've operated this manor for two hundred years. The underground is filled with silver traps and sanctified weapons. It's harder to crack than an Imperium military fortress."

As his voice fell, he gave a slight wave of his hand behind him.

From the manor's bunkers, walls, and rooftops, countless dark muzzles and silver crossbow bolts were instantly aimed at the fleet down the hill.