There should be four seasons in this new era, there are still four seasons, but the meaning is somewhat different. Spring signifies awakening, as big bears, stone dragons, small blood-sucking flies, and fluorescent fleas emerge from hibernation. After a long winter of hunger, they naturally become extraordinarily ferocious. In fact, blood-sucking flies can be just as dangerous as Iron Armored Bears. This era is plagued by various deadly diseases, and almost every type of bacteria or virus considers blood-sucking flies as the most suitable carriers. Furthermore, each year brings forth a rapid increase in the number of diseases. The role of a doctor has never been more important yet so powerless.
However, spring remains the best season. Summer brings extreme heat, and the intense ultraviolet rays from the sun are fatal to most creatures, including mutated animals and humans. Autumn is no longer a season of harvest due to the extinction of old-era food and fruits that couldn't adapt to the new environment. Therefore, all living things now worry about food. Even plants that can thrive in the harshest conditions are more dangerous than skinks. As for winter, the only concern is to survive until spring and avoid starvation.
The sky is adorned with thin gray clouds that constantly change, revealing a breathtakingly beautiful blue sky. The scorching sun shines down like fire, drying up and cracking the ground. As the sun begins to set, Turner lowers the goggles on his helmet. These soldier's goggles from the olden days filter out glare and ultraviolet rays, protecting the eyes. Although today's ultraviolet rays are much stronger than before, the surviving humans have adapted to the new environment. Delicate humans, on the other hand, have long turned into lifeless bones in the wilderness. The ultraviolet light penetrating the goggles is blindingly bright, but to Turner, it's just a tad too intense. The eight soldiers following him are equally resilient. While the sunlight may be uncomfortable, it doesn't hinder their actions.
Resting his right hand on the refurbished M3A automatic rifle, Turner surveys the surrounding terrain and signals to his team with his left hand. Each soldier in the team wears a camouflage uniform and is equipped with an automatic rifle, as well as a grenade launcher. Despite worn-out uniforms and mismatched weapons, their appearance signifies a legitimate army rather than a random group of bandits. This army possesses ranks, tactics, logistics, and training. Most importantly, the organization supporting such an army is undoubtedly substantial.
Turner, 43 years old with nearly 20 years of military experience, is a dependable officer. Leading his team across a barren ridge at this moment provides excellent visibility, allowing him to survey a range of over ten kilometers. Whether there are shade-providing trees is of no concern to Turner. Large areas of green often conceal unpredictable dangers.
The echoes of howling rotten wolves resonate throughout the mountains, causing Turner to immediately focus on the direction of the howling. His pupils rapidly expand and contract, adjusting to the slight changes in the shape of his eyeballs. Without a telescope, he locks his gaze on a few small black dots several kilometers away. Only then does Turner raise his binoculars. Through the lens, he discerns several gray-black rotten wolves restlessly circling on reddish-brown rocks, occasionally tilting their heads back and howling at the sky.
Turner's vision is 1.5 times that of an average person, achieved through genetic modification obtained with an evolution point. Ordinary individuals may only have one or two chances for genetic enhancement in their lifetimes. Most opt to strengthen their muscle strength or physical defense. However, Turner has no regrets about utilizing his evolution points to improve his eyesight. In wilderness battles, detecting danger a moment earlier increases the chances of survival.
"Damn it! It seems these creatures have grown in size again," Turner curses, then leads his men towards the valley. Although these rotten wolves are nocturnal creatures, they are inexplicably active during the scorching daytime. Turner doesn't need to know why; his experience tells him that there must be a wolf den in the valley. Summer is also the breeding season for rotten wolves, and there should be weaned pups in the den. His objective is to assess the mutation progress of rotten wolves and other creatures in the area, identify any new unknown creatures, and bring back a few rotten wolf corpses every three months for research at the base.
Typically, this task would require Turner and his men to traverse the wilderness for over half a month, but the difficulty isn't high. Turner is well-acquainted with this desolate area spanning over 100 kilometers in radius. He can determine which locations are suitable for different types of creatures even with his eyes closed. With the firepower of his nine-man team, they can handle even a large wolf pack consisting of hundreds of rotten wolves.
But the problem is that, in this day and age, everything is changing rapidly. Turner observed the gradual growth in size of the rotten wolf. Initially, it only took one bullet to kill an adult rotten wolf, but now it usually takes two or three bursts to kill one. They are becoming faster and stronger. According to the research director of the base, in the past 12 months, the average body weight of adult rotting wolves has increased by 12%, their muscle strength has increased by 23%, their agility has increased by 18%, and their ability to resist blows has increased by 35%. The resistance has increased by 50%.
Of course, Turner couldn't remember, such a precise and rigorous statement. His way of thinking was more simple and vivid: the rotten wolves were getting bigger and more dangerous. His team used to be able to deal with 150 rotten wolves, but now they can only handle packs of no more than a hundred wolves. That's all. Although everything seemed to be under control at the base, every time Turner went on a mission, the feeling of uneasiness in his heart grew stronger. Can you imagine a rotting wolf as big as a tiger and as intelligent as a man? Turner had dreamed of this more than once.
A few kilometers of mountain road took Turner and his team, who were skilled in mountain warfare, half an hour to traverse. As Turner and the others arrived, the adult male rotting wolf perched on the rock crouched down, bared its drooling fangs, and emitted a low growl from its throat. This was a typical behavior of rotten wolves protecting their territory, indicating that there was a wolf den behind it, and there were still many young wolves inside who had not yet been weaned and couldn't keep pace with the big wolf's movements.
The territory of rotten wolves is usually quite large, and a valley full of caves might only be inhabited by this group of rotten wolves. Turner didn't want to search each cave one by one. He made a gesture, and a veteran behind him picked up his automatic rifle. The first burst shot sent a rotten wolf flying through the air, and then the second burst followed, with all three rounds finding their mark in the struggling body of the rotting wolf, causing it to somersault several times. The remaining rotten wolves whimpered, paying no attention to their fallen comrade, and fled deep into the valley with their tails between their legs.
Turner waved his submachine gun and said, "Lucas, take the lead!" Lucas sniffed his way towards the depths of the valley. Although the pungent smell of rotten wolves permeated the valley, Lucas' sense of smell was as keen as that of the rotten wolves, so there was no chance of any mistakes. The nine-member team walked unhurriedly and gradually reached the center of the valley. Their objective was clear—a cave several hundred meters away, with a few dry bones still visible at its entrance.
As usual, Turner left two soldiers to guard the entrance of the cave and led the rest of the soldiers inside to search. He wasn't worried about ambushes. In narrow and deep caves, the high-powered and mighty M3A was almost unstoppable. Furthermore, five out of the eight people brought this time were veterans who had completed more than ten missions. They had all undergone genetic enhancements at least once, which made them capable of handling any situation. Some team members had already started assembling simple animal cages. One live rotten wolf cub was worth more than ten dead wolves.
The cave wasn't deep, and after walking more than 30 meters, they reached a dead end. However, apart from piles of bones, there were only piles of hay, and there was no sign of the little wolf anywhere. Turner's face turned pale, his gaze fixed on the haystack, and his eye twitched. He abruptly slashed the haystack with the muzzle of his gun, revealing rocks covered in filth, but still no sign of the little wolf. "Lucas, you..." someone began to say, but before they could finish their sentence, Turner roughly interrupted, "Shut the fuck up! Lucas can't make mistakes!" Turner squatted down, retrieved his bayonet, picked up a bunch of fresh-looking wolf dung, examined it closely, suddenly stood up, pulled back the bolt of his M3A with a loud bang, and shouted, "Damn it, this is a trap! Let's go!"
An older member from behind caught up and said, "Hey! Boss, who set a trap for us? Don't tell me it was the rotten wolves! Haha..." He laughed twice but noticed that there was no one around to respond. He reluctantly stopped and shrugged helplessly. He too sensed the danger, but cracking a joke at this moment seemed like a good way to relieve tension. Turner hastened his pace and whispered, "It's probably the rotten wolves! God, I hope I'm wrong!" They hurried forward, and within a few steps, they rounded the final bend and arrived at the cave entrance. However, the two guards bent over, trembling, and retreated step by step back into the cave! Without saying a word, Turner rushed to the entrance, pulled the two soldiers apart, and peered out of the cave.
Turner's eyes widened suddenly, and his dark brown pupils were filled with a multitude of rotting wolves! "God! There are at least three hundred rotten wolves!" Turner's heart tightened suddenly, and he could barely catch his breath!
In an instant, Turner caught a faint stench in his nose, and his years of combat experience prompted him to quickly jump backward while firing a long burst at the cave opening. A black shadow darted through the air like lightning, its sharp teeth closing in on where Turner's neck should have been, but five hot bullets completely obliterated its entire midsection!
This is a strong male wolf with a head and a foot, weighing 30 kilograms. It was propelled several meters away by the impact of the bullet. After landing and rolling a few times, almost all of its internal organs had fallen out, yet it continued to struggle to stand. It managed to get up, swaying, and let out a menacing growl towards the entrance of the cave until another male wolf bit off its neck bone in one bite. Thump! Turner fell heavily on his back, knocking down two of his soldiers. When he was helped up, he realized that cold sweat had completely drenched his clothes, both inside and out! An old bird glanced out of the cave, immediately paling upon seeing something, and said, "Boss, it seems that we are trapped." The other person looked at the walkie-talkie in his hand, shook his head, and said, "No, nothing at all. It's just a signal from the base."
"We have enough food and water for another ten days."
"We only have one ammunition base, and that's not enough to kill them all."
Several experienced soldiers reported the supply situation themselves, and as Turner listened, his face grew increasingly grim. He cautiously stood one meter away from the cave entrance, gazing outside. The more he looked, the more unease settled in his heart. The formidable rotten wolves were patrolling back and forth, their saliva dripping onto the scorching rocks in the valley, evaporating into white smoke. Although they were hungry, they all remained 500 meters away from the cave entrance. It seemed they understood that beyond this distance, the power and accuracy of automatic rifles would be greatly reduced. With over 300 rotten wolves in the valley, Turner's team had no way to break through. If they left the safety of the cave, the swift and agile rot wolves would surround them from all sides, tearing the entire team to shreds with one charge.
Turner retreated into the cave, sat against the cave wall, and said, "It seems these rotten wolves are trying to trap us here. There are two guards at the entrance of the cave, and they rotate every two hours. Lucas, Bo Greg, you two start first, while the others rest. I hope we're lucky enough that reinforcements from the base can find us."
The soldiers sat down against the cave wall one by one, closed their eyes, and tried to sleep. They needed to conserve their energy, although almost no one could truly fall asleep. A lingering question hung in everyone's mind: how did these rotten wolves suddenly become so intelligent? They knew how to set traps and how to avoid the most lethal range of automatic rifles. Furthermore, despite their hunger, none of the wolves dared to cross that invisible boundary line. Their behavior was simply...
"Boss! Come and see!" Lucas suddenly called out urgently. Lowering his voice, he seemed afraid of disturbing something. Turner cautiously moved to the hole and looked outside. Following Lucas' finger, he finally spotted the leader of the wolf pack.
This wolf was different. Its huge body and sleek, jet black fur were uncommon among rotten wolves. But the most astonishing thing was that this wolf stood on its hind legs!
Occasionally, an alpha wolf would land on all fours, but most of the time it stood upright, commanding the pack of rotten wolves with various howls of differing lengths and pitches, using its front paws. An experienced veteran listened carefully for a while before exclaiming, "There are at least 30 syllables! If those syllables can be combined, it's language. Is this really a rotten wolf?" He sat down against the cave wall, closed his eyes, and murmured, "Of course it's a rotten wolf. It's not surprising that rotten wolves can communicate. In these times, anything can happen... We must find a way to kill it!"
Berg, the sniper in the team, set up his sniper rifle and patiently aimed at the wolf using the crosshairs in his scope. The alpha wolf was a thousand meters away from the cave and considerably more vigilant and agile than the ordinary rotten wolves. To hit it from this distance, one would need to possess sniper specialization at the second level, with enhanced abilities, and use a new-era sniper firearm produced by a major company. Berg, however, only had an antique sniper rifle from the old era. Whether he could hit the target depended on luck.
"We must find a way to kill it!" Berg repeated to himself as he focused on the wolf through the scope. Finally! The alpha wolf stood upright and lifted its nose to sniff the air. Berg couldn't miss such a rare opportunity and decisively pulled the trigger!
Boom! The intense recoil struck Berg's shoulder hard, pushing him back ten centimeters. Yet, Berg could see clearly through the scope. At the moment the gun spewed sparks, the alpha wolf suddenly dropped down with incredible agility and disappeared among the other wolves! A second later, a massive burst of blood bloomed on a rotten wolf, severing its flexible and powerful waist. However, Berg's heart sank. There was only one chance, and he had missed it. There would be no next time. Helplessly, he buried his head in his arms. A rough, strong, and warm hand patted Berg's shoulder, and then Turner's calm voice, unique to him, sounded in Berg's ear, "In the past twenty years, I've done worse things with less. Don't overthink it, lad. If you couldn't do it, none of us here could. Sometimes, we just have to give our all and leave success to luck."
Three days passed. The alpha wolf continued to coordinate and direct the pack's actions, maintaining order. It mercilessly killed any rotten wolves that refused to obey. When necessary, it still walked upright, but it never stayed in one place for long. More often than not, it disappeared completely among the wolves. Aside from its appearance, it resembled a calm, ruthless, and cunning human commander from every aspect.
"I have to find a way to kill it..."
On the ridge, a green eye with gray stripes stared at the wolf. He didn't know when he had settled on this ridge, overlooking the entire valley. His body was wrapped in a thick yellow-brown blanket, perfectly blending with the surrounding rocks. He didn't know how long he had been observing, but finally, a gun barrel covered in brown cloth strips emerged from under the blanket. The old-fashioned front sight above the muzzle slowly aligned with the wolf's head.