Chapter 6: Short Crossbow, Terrifying Death and the First Defeat of Blood Claw

The bald giant "Blood Claw"'s cruel grin still echoed over the depression, and the pitch-black muzzle of his crude yet deadly double-barreled shotgun was now steadily aimed at Lin Mo!

The scent of death surged toward him! Lin Mo’s blood seemed to freeze instantly, his mind going blank. He was just a dead-end office worker who had never even killed a chicken, and facing this direct threat from a firearm, fear crashed over him like a tidal wave. He could even smell the acrid stench of cheap gunpowder mixed with motor oil!

Just as the bald man’s finger was about to squeeze the trigger—

“Shhh—!”

A streak of deep blue light tore through the air, shrieking shrilly, and struck with pinpoint accuracy into the bald man's right wrist holding the shotgun!

“Puch!” The arrowhead sank deep into flesh and bone!

“Ughhh—!” The bald man screamed like a slaughtered pig, the shotgun flying from his grip and crashing to the ground. He clutched his wrist; blood instantly spurted from between his fingers, his face twisted with disbelief, agonizing pain, and rage.

Fast! Too fast! Ali’s movements were ghostly—crouching, aiming, firing—all seamless, without a single hesitation!

“You bitch! Die!” A burly thug with a spiked club and a scar across his face roared, swinging his heavy weapon like a charging bull as he lunged toward Ali. His heavy footsteps kicked up clouds of dust.

Ali’s eyes were icy, showing no panic. She didn’t retreat—instead, her body slid sideways at an impossible angle, light as air, perfectly evading the screaming blow of the spiked club. At the same time, her left hand suddenly held a glittering, venom-coated dagger that struck like a venomous snake’s tongue, slicing cleanly through the tendons of the scarred thug’s exposed ankle as he charged!

“Slish!”

“Ahh—!” The scarred thug screamed, his charge halting instantly as he collapsed forward like a felled log, rolling on the ground while clutching his spurting ankle.

The third raider was a gaunt, yellow-haired man wielding a rusted cleaver. He had intended to join the charge but was utterly terrified by Ali's ruthless precision. He saw her emotionless, icy eyes turn toward him—and the deep blue glow on her short crossbow's arm flared again!

“Oh shit!” The yellow-haired man shrieked, no longer daring to advance—he spun and tried to flee!

“Stop him!” Ali’s hoarse voice rang out, carrying absolute command.

Lin Mo was stunned by the lightning-fast exchange—only when Ali shouted did he snap back to reality! He was closest to the fleeing yellow-haired man! Survival instinct and fury at being cornered instantly overpowered his fear!

“Don’t run!” Lin Mo roared, summoning strength he didn’t know he had, and lunged forward despite his injured leg. He had no technique—only brute force—as he wrapped his arms tightly around the yellow-haired man’s waist, and both tumbled to the ground!

“Get off, waste!” The yellow-haired man, shocked and furious, swung the hilt of his cleaver hard against Lin Mo’s head!

Lin Mo’s head rang like a bell, stars exploding before his eyes—the pain nearly made him loosen his grip. But he gritted his teeth, his mind fixed on one thought: He can’t escape to warn others! He clung tighter, then bit down hard on the man’s wrist holding the cleaver!

“Aaah—!” The yellow-haired man cried out in pain, dropping the cleaver. The two rolled like beasts across the dirt, kicking up dust. Lin Mo had no strength or skill—he was soon pinned beneath the man, whose grotesque face and foul breath were inches away, his filthy hands squeezing Lin Mo’s throat with crushing force!

Suffocation slammed into him! Lin Mo’s vision darkened; he helplessly clawed at the man’s arms.

“Shhh!”

Another crossbow bolt pierced the back of the yellow-haired man’s hand gripping Lin Mo’s throat, pinning it firmly to the ground!

“Aaaah—!” The yellow-haired man shrieked in agony.

Lin Mo seized the chance, shoving him off violently, clutching his throat as he coughed and gasped, his throat burning as if it would snap.

Ali appeared beside the writhing pair, her short crossbow aimed at the three writhing raiders. The bald man clutched his wrist, the scarred man hugged his ankle, the yellow-haired man’s hand was pinned to the earth—all three utterly disabled, reduced to moans and venomous curses.

“Kill them! You bitch! Blood Claw won’t let you live!” The bald man screamed through the pain, his eyes filled with hatred.

Ali stepped before him, looking down with eyes as cold as those fixed on three corpses. She said nothing—only slowly raised her dagger, its tip glinting with lethal cold in the dim light.

Lin Mo’s heart rose to his throat. He knew what Ali intended. In the wasteland, mercy toward enemies was cruelty toward oneself. But watching three lives end before his eyes… his stomach churned.

Yet Ali’s dagger never fell. Instead, she used its tip to slit open the bald man’s tattered leather armor, revealing a small pouch sewn inside with crude thread. From it, she pulled out several items: a few chunks of black, dried-meat-like substance wrapped in oil paper; a small bag of murky, sandy grains; and several bright yellow metal shell casings!

She tossed the dried meat and grains to Lin Mo, who had just gotten up, while she carefully examined the shell casings, her brow faintly furrowing.

“Search them. Take anything useful.” Ali ordered coldly, then yanked the crossbow bolt from the yellow-haired man’s hand, spraying a trail of blood that drew another howl of agony from him.

Lin Mo forced down his revulsion and mimicked Ali’s actions, searching the three defenseless raiders. Aside from a few rock-hard black bread loaves and filthy rags, there was little of value. But on the scarred man’s waist, he found a small pouch wrapped in animal hide—inside were over a dozen screws and nuts of varying sizes, glowing with a dull metallic sheen! In the wasteland, these were priceless industrial parts!

“Harvest.” Ali glanced at what Lin Mo had found—especially the screws and nuts—and for a moment, her eyes brightened slightly before returning to their icy chill. She walked to the moaning bald man, crouched down, and pressed the cold edge of her dagger against his cheek.

“Tell me—where is ‘Cripple Wolf’?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, laced with bone-deep frost.

The bald man’s pupils shrank violently; his hateful expression vanished, replaced by sheer terror. He clenched his teeth, his body trembling with fear, yet not a word escaped him.

“Won’t talk?” Ali’s blade pressed slightly deeper, a thin line of blood tracing down the bald man’s cheek. “Or would you prefer to be devoured alive by mutated hyenas? They won’t mind your meat’s radiation.”

“N-no… don’t!” The bald man broke down, tears and snot streaming, “I’ll tell! I’ll tell! Cripple Wolf… he… he’s at the ‘Vulture Cliff’ to the west! We have a temporary camp there! Don’t kill me! Please!”

Ali got the information she wanted; a flash of cold light passed through her eyes. She didn’t kill the bald man—instead, she slammed the hilt of her dagger hard against his temple! The bald man grunted, rolled his eyes back, and passed out. She did the same to the other two thugs—clean, efficient blows that knocked them unconscious.

“Why… didn’t you kill them?” Lin Mo stared at the three unconscious raiders, his voice still trembling. He had no doubt of Ali’s ruthless decisiveness.

“Dead men don’t report, but they leave traces and scent—drawing worse things.” Ali stood, shaking blood droplets from her dagger, her movements practiced and chilling. “Knock them out, tie them up, dump them far away. Let the wasteland deal with them.” Her words were cold, pragmatic.

Lin Mo fell silent. Was this the wasteland’s survival wisdom? Cruel—but effective.

The two moved swiftly, using the rags and the raiders’ own belts to bind the three into tight bundles. Then, together, they dragged the heavy “packages” to the edge of the depression, far from “Hope Outpost,” and shoved them into a deep pit. Muffled thuds and faint moans echoed from below.

When they finished, night had fully fallen. The wasteland’s night was biting cold and teeming with danger.

Back before the small shack, Lin Mo stared at the darkened “Hope Outpost,” a ruinous island in the night, then at Ali beside him, silently wiping her crossbow. The brief, bloody fight had deepened his understanding of this mysterious girl’s combat prowess—and of the reality of their environment.

Blood Claw’s raiders were like parasitic ticks. A temporary camp lay just west at “Vulture Cliff.” And that “Cripple Wolf,” who had reduced the bald man to tears… clearly a far more terrifying figure.

Ali and Blood Claw weren’t just fighting over territory. That bone-deep hatred, that icy killing intent… what burden did she carry?

“Ali…” Lin Mo hesitated, “that ‘Cripple Wolf’…”

Ali’s motion of wiping the crossbow froze. She didn’t turn, only stared toward the west, swallowed by darkness. Her grip tightened on the crossbow until her knuckles turned white. In the dark, Lin Mo thought he heard the faintest, most suppressed sound—a grinding of teeth.

She didn’t answer. But the cold killing intent radiating through the air—nearly solid—told Lin Mo the answer clearer than any words.

The night wind swept through the ruins, moaning like the cries of the dead. The first night at Hope Outpost arrived—with bloody victory and deeper shadows.