Chapter 62: The Drug Lord's Passions and Betrayals

Though she was anxious, that didn’t mean she could just ignore the half-destroyed eighth-grade Vermilion Fruit and let its spiritual energy dissipate before her eyes.

Yu Yan absolutely could not stand such waste! Having grown up with a miserly disposition, she would never do something so extravagant.

Time ticked by, and Yu Yan focused on refining the energy of the Vermilion Fruit. The swirling yellow sand soon blanketed the gray-blue top of the tent, gradually burying this place until it looked no different from the rest of the desert.

In the distance, the sporadic crackle of gunfire could be heard.

A rocket launcher roared, its explosion lighting up half of the brooding, dark sky.

“Can we stop fighting already?” someone shouted.

“If you want to fight, fine, but kill all these disgusting, terrifying monsters first!” came the retort. “Otherwise, we’ll die under their claws. I don’t want my glorious reputation ended in the jaws of these filthy beasts.”

Disgusting things, the man had said—how polite.

Several Snow-Crowned Gray Wolves closest to the man bared their teeth, as if they understood his words. With a savage swipe, they left deep, bone-revealing gashes across his body. Blood gushed from new wounds and from those already torn open by gunfire, staining the sand beneath their paws a vivid red.

“Stop the nonsense,” barked another man clad in military green overalls, tossing sweat-soaked hair from his brow. “I have nothing to say to scum like you. I’ll never cooperate with you—not in this lifetime. Prepare to die!”

Yet, even as he said this, the man in overalls couldn’t resist sending a bullet his way.

A pack of gray wolves, their eyes bloodthirsty, circled him as well.

Whenever he tried to act against the other man, the wolves blocked his way.

The bullets in his waist pouch were running low; the moment he ran out would likely be the moment he became wolf food. A flash of unwillingness glimmered in his eyes—he hadn’t yet taken down this drug cartel.

He’d lost contact with his men.

The rest of the cartel members were in similar straits; now, only the cartel leader before him was left, and they were both being hunted by the wolf pack.

If he was going to die, at the very least he’d take out the leader first!

With this resolve, the man in overalls stopped worrying about his own survival. Even if it meant taking more wounds, he was determined to get close enough to the cartel leader.

“...Zuo Changyu, have you finally come to your senses?” Zhu Le panted, fending off a wolf, eyes flashing with hope.

Zuo Changyu—the man in overalls—was a retired special forces operative from the Covert Corps, formidable and fully equipped. If they joined forces, perhaps they could drive off the wolves. After all, after this long fight, both he and Zuo Changyu were badly wounded and low on ammunition.

The wolves hunting them were not in much better shape—many were already dead or wounded, and only about twenty still had any fight left.

What happened after driving off the wolves? If Zuo Changyu tried to kill him... as if he himself didn’t want to kill Zuo Changyu. If this meddlesome man hadn’t interfered, he would have completed the deal and returned to the base with his partners. Even with the arrival of this ‘instance world’, with an entire base’s worth of firepower, would he have been afraid of these foul monsters?

Poor Zhu Le didn’t know that the Snow-Crowned Gray Wolves were the lowest rung on the food chain in the S-ranked instance “Desert Oasis.” Firearms could still inflict damage on them, but against stronger instance beasts, the effect would be negligible.

Zuo Changyu kept silent. Rather than waste energy talking, it was better to move two steps closer to Zhu Le. Let him believe he wanted to cooperate—so that, when death came, it would be all the more shocking. With this in mind, a cruel smile twisted Zuo Changyu’s stiff lips.

Lost in their fight, neither men nor wolves noticed they were drawing near a peculiar mound.

The endless desert was dotted with many sand dunes and hummocks, but most were pointed at the top, or clustered, or stretched in snaking lines to the horizon. This one, however, was oval, almost rectangular, with a smooth, rounded top—as if something rounded and perfect lay beneath, supporting the sand that the wind had piled on.

“Are you insane?” Zhu Le spat as a flash of army green closed in, with no wolves left between them.

Without hesitation, Zuo Changyu shot him.

Relieved that he no longer had to worry about attacks from behind and could trust Zuo Changyu to cover him, Zhu Le stared in disbelief at the blood seeping from his chest. “If you kill me, you won’t survive either!” he gasped.

How could this fool be so stupid? Even if there was a grudge, couldn’t they settle it after dealing with the monsters? Now, they’d both end up as wolf meat!

Unwilling to die, Zhu Le’s final sight was a sea of glowing green wolf eyes lunging at him with ravenous bloodlust. Who would have thought, after a life of cunning, he’d die not at the hands of his greatest foe but—no, it was Zuo Changyu who killed him.

It wasn’t the hated wolf pack after all.

But in the end, it hardly mattered—he would be wolf food either way.

Zuo Changyu grinned, blood spilling from his mouth. “You were too naive. I don’t know how someone so naive became a cartel boss. My wife, she had another name: Yin Zhitong.”

“Now do you understand why I hate your kind—especially you?”

Yin Zhitong... wasn’t Zuo Changyu’s wife named Zhou Rou?

A delicate, expressive face flashed before Zhu Le’s eyes, her smile fading day by day, her once-plump figure growing thin. The child in her womb, starved for nourishment as the mother wasted away with worry that she’d bear a deformed baby, was lost before birth.

So he was Yin Zhitong’s husband!

No wonder, no matter how hard he tried—even driving her to addiction—she never felt the slightest affection for him. When the cravings struck, she’d beg him in tears, but when the withdrawal passed, her gaze for him was full of nothing but loathing.

That look... yes, it was exactly the same as the way Zuo Changyu was looking at him now!

If he was her husband, then this death was not unjust.

Zhu Le drew a small lock of hair, tied with red thread, from his breast pocket. Ignoring the wolves about to descend upon him, his gaze turned soft and longing as he pressed the hair to his cheek, then closed his eyes and let himself fall backward.

“Filthy!” Zuo Changyu spat, kicking him without hesitation.

Zhu Le, dizzy from blood loss, collapsed toward him without regard for direction. Zuo Changyu had no intention of dying together; with the last of his strength, he kicked Zhu Le two or three meters away, sending him crashing into the edge of the strange sand mound.

Bang!

Rustle, rustle...

The tent above, struck hard, tore open at some structural seam, creating a gaping hole. Sand poured in, cascading in torrents before Yu Yan could react, burying her head to toe.

Having just finished refining a mouthful of eighth-grade Vermilion Fruit and planning to rest for a moment, Yu Yan was left utterly speechless.