Chapter 110: Cold-Blooded Machine

In the past, the missions he took on were always about injuring or killing; this was the first time he was protecting someone.

“Mr. Jiang, you’re so kind…” Xian Yuqing murmured with her eyes closed, “Just like my brother…”

Jiang Mohe paused for a moment, listening to the steady breaths of the person on his back, then slowed his pace.

After moving about half a kilometer, Jiang Mohe suddenly sensed an unusual presence nearby.

“They’re coming!”

He gently woke Xian Yuqing and carefully set her down.

Still a bit dazed, Xian Yuqing was pulled into Jiang Mohe’s embrace as he leapt up into a nearby tree with dense branches.

Holding her close against the trunk with one arm, Jiang Mohe gripped a branch above with the other, standing firmly as he scanned the distance.

In the pitch-black forest, only small flickers of red light danced, approaching from afar.

Xian Yuqing’s view was blocked by Jiang Mohe’s tall figure; she could see nothing.

All she could hear was the rustling of leaves in the night wind, along with two distinct heartbeats—the slower one his, the faster one her own.

Soon, the sound of hurried footsteps like those of wild beasts came rushing past them, the air thickening with the scent of blood.

The footsteps swept by and retreated in the direction they had come from, gradually fading away.

But Jiang Mohe remained motionless, and Xian Yuqing dared not move either.

After a moment, another series of footsteps passed by.

Only when they disappeared, leaving just the swaying leaves, did Jiang Mohe jump down from the tree with Xian Yuqing still in his arms.

However, he did not put her down. Instead, he said, “Hold on tight,” and broke into a run.

Obediently, Xian Yuqing wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the mountain wind howl past her ears.

After about ten minutes, Jiang Mohe finally stopped, panting heavily, and looked toward a wooden cabin not far ahead.

He set Xian Yuqing down and told her to hide in the bushes, then handed her a dagger from his waist, speaking slowly and carefully: “There’s a ranger station ahead with communication equipment.

But it might be trapped, and using the radio could attract those people we saw earlier. No matter what happens, stay hidden here and don’t come out!”

Xian Yuqing didn’t take the dagger at first, looking up at him. “You gave it to me, but what about you?”

“You need it more than I do.” Jiang Mohe pressed the dagger into her hand.

Just as he was about to rise, Xian Yuqing grabbed the hem of his shirt, her eyes filled with worry. “You’ll come back, won’t you?”

His wounds weren’t healed, and he was about to face extremely dangerous foes again. Xian Yuqing feared he wouldn’t return unscathed.

Jiang Mohe couldn’t guarantee it himself, but he didn’t want to burden her with fear.

“Yes, I will come back,” he said.

Only then did Xian Yuqing release his shirt and whisper, “I’ll wait for you.”

A flicker of emotion passed through Jiang Mohe’s eyes as he gently stroked her cheek, then swiftly set off toward the cabin.

Xian Yuqing watched his figure disappear into the dense night, her heart heavy with unease.

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The vine-covered cabin stood silently in the dark forest, its open door like a gaping maw waiting for prey to fall in.

Jiang Mohe sensed nothing unusual. But that was the most unusual thing of all!

The group of “pseudo-mutants” had just passed through not long ago; they certainly wouldn’t leave such an obvious spot untouched.

Step by step, Jiang Mohe approached the cabin, tossing a small pebble inside with one hand while swiftly drawing a leather belt from his waist with the other.

Suddenly, two dark figures darted out from the cabin. Jiang Mohe whipped the leather strap toward them.

A silver gleam flashed as the strap swung, forcing the two shadows to scatter. One barely escaped, but the other was sliced cleanly in half from its arm, severed from the body.

Only then did they realize Jiang Mohe wielded a lightweight silver whip-sword, its blade shimmering coldly in the dim night.

A sudden gust stirred the grass and leaves, cutting past the silver blade and scattering into fragments.

The dodging shadow was momentarily stunned. Weren’t they just dealing with some mutant? How could he have such skill?

The one whose arm was ruined was clearly enraged, ignoring the injury as he lunged fiercely at Jiang Mohe.

Even as gene-mutated pseudo-mutants, their claws were no weaker than those of wild beasts—fierce, relentless, and brutal.

Jiang Mohe was fatigued and didn’t want to fight head-on; he sought to outwit them. He knew the mutants’ strengths and weaknesses well.

Masters of disguise and stealth, mutants feared one thing above all: bright light!

As the enemy closed in for a strike, Jiang Mohe met their claws with his silver sword.

In an instant, the blade burst with dazzling light. Caught off guard, their eyes were blinded by the glare, leaving only a blinding white before them.

Seizing the opportunity, Jiang Mohe thrust his sword through the attacker’s throat, then flashed to the side, aiming for the shadow attempting a sneak attack.

A silver light flickered across the forehead; before a sound could escape, the sword’s tip plunged into the chest, blood pouring out immediately.

Within ten seconds, both shadows collapsed, twitching briefly before falling still.

Behind them, Jiang Mohe panted heavily, his grip on the silver sword trembling slightly, his eyes flickering with a fierce red glow.

He seldom used the sword—it demanded too much energy. But now, he had no choice.

After dispatching the ambushers, Jiang Mohe entered the cabin. It had already been ransacked; even the radio equipment lay destroyed.

He cursed softly, then searched the bodies of the attackers, finally finding two signal flares in their leg holsters.

Hesitating briefly, Jiang Mohe fired both flares into the sky.

The bright red light shone brilliantly against the dark night, attracting the nearby pseudo-mutants and the search team.

Soon, the howling wind carried the sound of footsteps, drawing closer and closer.

Jiang Mohe tore off the bandages on his arm, tightly binding the silver sword to his hand, the red glow in his eyes burning fiercer than ever.

As dark shapes charged at him from all directions, the red light in Jiang Mohe’s eyes blazed to its peak; his shirt tore apart as his muscles swelled.

The wind howled, sword strikes came fast and furious, blood splattering everywhere. For a moment, the air was thick with the metallic stench of blood.

Gripping the dagger tightly, Xian Yuqing closed her eyes, listening to the waves of agonized howls outside…

Time passed, though how long she didn’t know, until the howls gradually ceased.

Only when all fell silent did Xian Yuqing slowly open her eyes. She parted the bushes, trying to see if Jiang Mohe was still alright.

“Roar—”

A grotesque, twisted face suddenly appeared before her, claws slashing forward but stopping just a foot away.

With a sharp “thud,” it collapsed to the ground, a long gash splitting its back.

A few steps away, Jiang Mohe stood drenched in blood, the silver sword in his hand equally stained.

His blood-red eyes fixed unblinkingly on Xian Yuqing; expression cold and mechanical, he raised the sword and drove it down with force.

The fallen body shuddered once, then lay motionless.

Xian Yuqing was stunned by the scene! The Jiang Mohe before her no longer held warmth in his eyes—he was like a cold-blooded killing machine.