Volume One: The Planet of Ten Thousand Beasts Chapter 17: A Turning Point

Li Juxu was the last to board the vehicle, yet his seat was the deepest inside. Everyone else on board were veterans—experienced and seasoned—sitting near the doors so they could disembark immediately in case of danger. He knew well that trying to exit through the doors now was hopeless. While the others charged toward the door, he flipped open the hatch on the roof, pushed off with his feet, braced with his hands, and was already atop the vehicle. Without a glance at the others, he lunged toward the roadside. The moment his body touched the ground, a rocket slammed into the armored vehicle.

Boom—

The tremendous explosion nearly overturned the vehicle, the blinding blaze cutting through the night. Li Juxu tumbled several times in quick succession, narrowly escaping the shockwave, and curled up behind a rock half a man’s height. Pain from sharp stones digging into him during the roll was the last thing on his mind as he swiftly assembled the Exploder-002B.

The Exploder-002B measured 1.35 meters in total length. When not in use, it was disassembled into segments for easier storage; otherwise, carrying such a cumbersome weapon—over a meter long—would be extremely inconvenient.

Explosions continued in rapid succession. The enemy had launched at least a dozen rockets. Except for the second armored vehicle, which had anticipated the danger and maneuvered nimbly to avoid the projectiles, all the others suffered varying degrees of rocket strikes. Despite the vehicles’ robust armor, two of them had been disabled. Li Juxu had no time to check on their occupants. Through his scope, half a kilometer away, he spotted his first target. His naturally superior eyesight, enhanced by the scope, allowed him to see far more clearly than others even in the dark. Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger.

Bang—

The head of the enemy carrying the rocket launcher exploded like a watermelon shattered on the ground, the fragments scattered and shattered. The immense kinetic force of the sniper round sent the corpse flying more than half a meter backward.

That shot was fifty percent luck, as Li Juxu hadn’t even bothered to assess wind speed, humidity, or air pressure—he fired purely on instinct.

His muzzle shifted, and about 150 meters away, a Type 38 submachine gun came into view. The man wielding it had a face full of scars and was shooting recklessly while running. Li Juxu adjusted his aim slightly and fired again.

Bang—

The Type 38 fell silent. This time it wasn’t a headshot, but a bowl-sized hole punched in the man’s chest. Headshots might look more gratifying and give a greater sense of accomplishment, but statistically, chest shots hit more reliably. Against stationary targets, Li Juxu might attempt headshots, but against moving ones, the chest was the safer bet.

Gunfire erupted from all directions. Preliminary estimates suggested the enemy had at least thirty firearms, meaning over thirty combatants, positioned along both sides of the road. At this moment, Pu Shaoyun’s team launched their counterattack. Gunfire roared as bullets sprayed mercilessly to both sides. Except for a few who found cover behind rocks, Pu Shaoyun’s men were forced to rely on the armored vehicles for protection. The enemy’s ambush location was no accident: the surrounding terrain was flat and exposed, offering no natural defenses. There were barely any rocks or other cover to hide behind.

Li Juxu was quick to react, leaping from the vehicle at once. Even a delay of a second or two would have meant the vehicle moving five or six meters forward, eliminating his chance to take cover behind that half-man-high rock.

Screams echoed relentlessly. The enemy’s firepower was fierce, with rockets being the most troublesome. Li Juxu silently prayed the rockets wouldn’t zero in on him—otherwise, the consequences would be unforeseeable. He saw several enemies in his field of vision, but none were his targets. A sniper was not meant to pick off mere foot soldiers.

The man carrying the rocket launcher was his primary target, but he dared not fire recklessly. Given the enemy’s thorough preparations, there had to be snipers among them. What Li Juxu feared most was attracting the attention of an enemy sniper—that meant death’s gaze fixating on him. On the battlefield, being singled out by a sniper carried a ninety percent mortality rate.

Bang—

Another machine gun fell silent. Li Juxu instinctively ducked his head just as a searing bullet grazed his temple and buried itself in the ground. Seeing the dark bullet hole and the faint wisp of smoke rising, he broke out in goosebumps. He had once again narrowly escaped death, his heart pounding fiercely. The worst had come to pass: he had been spotted by an enemy sniper.

The rock he was hiding behind was too small, offering cover from only one direction, while the enemy pressed in from both ends. He had no room to maneuver and couldn’t simply stay still. His mind raced for a solution, but there was none. All he could do was pray for his comrades’ support.

At that moment, he caught sight of a burly comrade who seemed to share his sense of impending danger. From somewhere, the big man pulled out a Gatling gun, preparing to charge out and unleash hell on the enemy.

The Gatling gun boasted a top firing rate of 6,000 rounds per minute, reigning supreme in small-scale firefights as the ultimate firepower suppressor. However, to reduce recoil, portable versions sacrificed some firepower. The one in the big man’s hands likely fired at 2,500 rounds per minute. Though only a third of the original power, it was still a death sentence given human reaction speeds.

At this point, Li Juxu’s best move was to watch and wait. The moment the big man charged, he would draw the entire battlefield’s attention, including the sniper’s, shifting the threat away from Li Juxu. He had a chance to strike back. But this thought flickered briefly in his mind before he shouted out loud:

“Sniper! Don’t go out!”

The big man, already halfway out the vehicle, froze and abruptly retreated. He glanced back at Li Juxu, eyes full of gratitude. As a seasoned veteran, he understood well: once the Gatling gun fired, he would become the primary focus. Rifle and submachine gun fire was dangerous but survivable, as he would be suppressing the enemy. But a sniper was different—no one knew where they were aiming from, and becoming their target was almost certainly a death sentence.

A Gatling gun wasn’t a pistol; it weighed over a hundred pounds. Carrying it made one barely more agile than a turtle.

“Flashbangs! Smoke grenades!” the big man shouted toward Pu Shaoyun’s direction. His teammates were no fools—they immediately tossed out seven or eight flashbangs and smoke grenades. Li Juxu quickly shut his eyes, regretting not having special glasses. It was all a matter of money—many useful pieces of equipment were simply too expensive for him to afford.

After the explosions, gunfire and screams rang out fiercely. The whiz of bullets made Li Juxu’s heart race with fear that one stray round might find him—a fate worse than death. The few seconds felt like centuries.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that his comrades were mounting a vigorous counterattack, pushing the enemy back on all fronts. This was a positive sign. Yet he remained still until a teammate’s chest erupted in a spray of blood, a cup-sized hole appearing. Li Juxu immediately shouted:

“Enemy sniper at 10 o’clock, 1,000 meters!”