Future Masters in Modern Times

Chapter 45: Fight!!!

The brutality about to unfold was too harrowing to bear even a single glance. Many were on edge—not just the fighters inside the cage, but those outside as well. Because what was about to unfold before their eyes was very likely a preview of their own fate. The moment those four fighters stepped into the cage, the wolfhounds leaped to their feet as if on stimulants, fixating their gaze on this group of uninvited guests. Needless to say, the fighters were on edge—after all, anyone facing a pack of wolfhounds nearly as ferocious as real wolves would feel a chill run down their spine. No one initiated an attack; their hope was simple to the point of being pitiful—they simply hoped the pack of wolves wouldn’t attack them, so they could survive those ten minutes. Unfortunately, reality never goes their way. The more they tried to avoid provoking the wolfdogs, the more relentlessly the pack closed in on them. As they watched, the bloodthirsty glint in the wolfdogs’ eyes grew ever more intense, and the growling sounds coming from their mouths became increasingly distinct. The boxers began to fear for their lives; each assumed a fighting stance, preparing to face the storm of attacks from the pack of wolfhounds. Life or death—two outcomes, a dilemma! Launching a preemptive strike would, aside from gaining a slight advantage, only hasten their own demise. Defending themselves might be a little less dangerous, but if this pack of wolfhounds attacks with everything they’ve got, they’re still as good as dead. What should they do? A dilemma… They chose to hold their ground. Defend—and cling to life. They were like a group of defeated generals, clinging desperately to their last remaining territory. Even though their last stronghold was just a tiny patch of land—beyond which lay nothing but the wolfhounds’ territory. They wanted to defend, so the wolfhounds naturally chose to attack; no one knew which one launched the first assault. That wolfdog let out a howl and lunged forward, aiming straight for the boxer’s neck. It was merely a scouting vanguard; though ferocious, the boxers were not without the strength to fight back. The boxer who had been targeted dodged to the side. He evaded the fierce blow and grabbed the wolfdog by the neck with one hand. With a “thud,” the boxer slammed the wolfdog—which he was still choking—violently onto the ground. “Heh heh,” the boxer gasped for breath, laughing with a touch of glee. But when he looked up, he realized something was wrong. The remaining three boxers were all staring at him coldly, their eyes filled with a sense of sorrow. Panic gripped the fighter, and he looked up. Good heavens! The remaining wolfhounds were all staring at him with green glints in their eyes; in those eyes, the fighter seemed to see himself transformed into a huge, blood-soaked mass of flesh. “Oh no!” The thought flashed through the boxer’s mind, but it was already too late. At least five wolfhounds pounced on him! Their blood-stained jaws were wide open, their sharp teeth glistening with saliva. With a frenzied howl, they lunged at the boxer. Panicked, he kicked out and spread his arms wide to shield himself. Immediately, a searing pain shot through him. The boxer’s facial muscles contorted in rage, his entire face twisted in agony. He looked closely and saw that a wolfdog had torn off a large chunk of flesh and skin from his right arm. Blood poured onto the ground as if it were free. Immediately afterward, he felt a sharp pain in both legs. The boxer could barely walk. Feeling a heavy weight on both shoulders, he instinctively turned his head… Crack! The boxer’s eyes widened, and his throat began to gurgle. The sharp teeth of a wolfhound sank viciously into his throat. He suffered a serious neck wound, and his chest was quickly stained. With a “thud.” His eyes wide open, he collapsed to the ground. Dead? Of the five fighters in the first group, one had died outside the cage, and another had been killed by the wolfhounds inside. In the blink of an eye, only three remained. Stimulated by the scent of blood, the wolfhounds grew even more agitated, their eyes bloodshot and red. It’s over. That was the collective thought of everyone present. It was very quiet, with only the low whimpering of the wolfhounds. “Roar!” It was unclear which wolfhound started it, but at its lead, the rest charged forward in a frenzy. The boxers sensed death approaching; a lingering scent of blood seemed to hang in the air right under their noses. Bang… bang… bang… Gunshots rang out, and the boxers opened their eyes. Before their eyes lay a pile of dog carcasses; some of the wolfhounds were still howling in agony and struggling. But soon, all the wolfhounds had breathed their last. Outside the cage, a group of guards, holding guns still smoking, watched the scene inside with cold, impassive eyes. “Open the door,” Max ordered. With a clang, the door swung open. The first three fighters stepped out of the cage and instantly felt as if they’d been transported to another world. Although they’d only been inside for ten minutes, it had felt like half a century to them. Having survived the ordeal, they didn’t know whether to feel relief or sorrow. The three survivors stood silently, huddled together in a corner. “Congratulations. You lasted five minutes and made it out alive,” Max said, a smile of indeterminate meaning playing on his face. “You will be the first group of fighters to see the Siberian Training Camp. Now all you have to do is wait.” None of the fighters were happy—they hadn’t even entered the Siberian Training Camp yet, and already they were facing such a brutal ordeal. So, what would happen once they actually entered the Siberian Training Camp? What would await them there? Guards entered the cage and began clearing out the bodies inside. As they passed by Zhao Wuji, he curled the corner of his mouth and absorbed all the living souls. Although these souls were few and insignificant, even a mosquito is still meat—with dedicated accumulation, one day he would reach the tipping point. A cart was wheeled over, loaded with several cages crammed full of wolfhounds—though the dogs didn’t seem particularly vicious at the moment. A guard brought over a sprayer and sprayed an unknown liquid into the cages. The liquid acted like a stimulant; the previously quiet wolfhounds immediately became restless, letting out fierce, wolf-like howls. They thrust their claws through the gaps in the cages, flailing wildly, while their eyes gradually filled with blood, turning a deep crimson. The boxers felt a chill run down their spines—it seemed they were facing doped-up wolfhounds. The guards placed the cage next to a small, half-man-high door on the side of the large enclosure. With a clang, the guards pulled open the gate. In an instant, the wolfdogs inside the cage lunged into the massive enclosure. “Second batch!” Max’s cold, ruthless voice rang out once more. The second group of five boxers stepped out of the line, and the guards opened the large cage door. This time, without waiting for Max to count, they stepped into the cage on their own. No one dared to strike first, because whoever attacked first would surely die a gruesome death. They all chose to defend. The wolfhounds possessed the caution and cunning of wolves, even though they now seemed as if they’d been pumped full of stimulants. Max let out a cold laugh and waved his hand. A guard stepped forward and, through the cage bars, increased the spray from the canister once more. The fighters inside the cage turned pale at the sight. “That’s not fair!” they shouted. Max remained expressionless and simply said, “Increase the spray volume even more.” The boxers fell silent at once, not daring to say another word. The boxers outside the cage didn’t look happy either. Once the spray volume was increased, the wolfhounds’ ferocity was unleashed; with a howl, they pounced. Caught off guard, the wolfhounds’ attack was ferocious. Caught off guard, the boxers scattered, leaving themselves wide open. This was exactly what the wolfdogs wanted. Facing boxers who were still on the defensive, the wolfdogs clearly held the upper hand. The initiative was firmly in their hands. The boxers now seemed like lambs led to the slaughter. The boxers were practically asking for death. Three or four wolfhounds locked onto a single boxer and launched a ferocious attack. The boxers usually managed only a few blocks before being bitten on the neck. One died, then two… In the end, the three remaining fighters could only shield their necks, while their hands and arms were torn to shreds by the wolfhounds’ sharp teeth. “Time’s up!” Max’s voice sounded like heavenly music to their ears. They urged Max with their eyes to fire the shot quickly. Max narrowed his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned up, and he slowly raised his hand, then brought it down with a sudden jerk. The fighters in the cage all breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally, the shot is about to be fired…” Bang… bang… bang… The gunshots rang out as expected.