American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

“Then let the gene hunters know,” Lynn said, re-examining his weapons, “that this island isn’t a place they can just barge into.”

“Yes,” Wolverine’s claws gleamed coldly in the darkness, “let them know that some guardians will not back down.”

The alarm bells grew closer, moving from the eastern trap towards the core area. Lynn and Wolverine extinguished the fire and quickly moved to their pre-selected ambush position—a rocky hill overlooking the main passage.

“Six people, no, seven,” Wolverine said in a low voice, his nose twitching slightly. “Two of them smell strange; they’re not entirely human.”

"What do you mean?" Lynn asked in a low voice, while observing the movements in the distance through his night vision goggles.

“It could be a highly mutated mutant, or a genetically modified enhanced human,” Wolverine explained. “I’ve smelled something similar before in William Stryker’s lab. Those poor bastards used as experimental subjects.”

Lynn's night-vision goggles finally caught sight of the intruders. Seven men, dressed in professional tactical gear, all in black, and equipped with various weapons and devices, moved with coordinated and cautious movements, clearly indicating they had received military training.

Leading the group was a tall man; even through the green light of his night-vision goggles, Lynn could see his exceptionally robust physique. Behind him, the other six men advanced in two groups, employing standard tactical formations.

“They’re very professional,” Lynn commented. “Much better than those three from earlier in the day.”

“Of course, the first batch was just an advance team, used for reconnaissance,” Wolverine said. “These are the main force. Judging from their equipment and formation, they should have a military background.”

One of the intruders suddenly stopped and raised his hand to signal the group to halt. He crouched down, carefully examined the ground, and then looked around.

“Damn it, they’ve found the trap,” Lynn whispered.

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Wolverine said. “Discovering the trap will make them more cautious and slower. And it will let them know that someone is waiting for them.”

The man inspecting the traps—who appeared to be the team's scout—gesturped to the leader and then pointed in a different direction. He was clearly reporting the trap's location.

The leader nodded, then gestured for the group to disperse. Three men continued along the main road, while the other four flanked them from both sides, attempting to bypass the trap area.

“They’re going to split their forces,” Lynn said.

“That’s perfect,” Wolverine grinned. “Scattered enemies are easier to take down one by one. You deal with the three who take the main road, and I’ll handle the ones trying to flank them.”

“Three against one? I don’t have the healing factor,” Lynn reminded him.

“So fight smart, not brute,” Wolverine said. “Use traps, use the terrain, use everything you’ve learned these past few days. Remember, you don’t need to defeat them, just delay them and let them know this place isn’t safe.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll make sure the other four never forget this night,” Wolverine said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Ready?”

Lynn took a deep breath and nodded. "Ready."

“Good,” Wolverine patted Lynn on the shoulder. “Remember—survival first, kill second. If things go wrong, retreat to the backup point immediately. I’ll find you.”

With that, Wolverine vanished into the darkness, moving so fast he was almost invisible. Lynn adjusted his breathing, focusing on the three targets before him.

The three men were cautiously advancing along the main road, stopping occasionally to check their surroundings. The burly man leading the way walked in the middle, flanked by a guard on each side. Lynn noticed that the man had prominent veins on his arms and an unnatural grayish skin—clear signs of mutation.

Lynn quietly moved to another location, where he and Wolverine had prepared a "surprise." He picked up a rope, which was connected to the trigger of an elaborately designed trap.

After the three people entered the designated area, Lynn suddenly pulled the rope.

Immediately, a loud crash—a rock weighing tens of kilograms rolled down from a great height, creating a white wall that rushed toward the three intruders, accompanied by a pre-arranged avalanche effect.

"Scatter!" the burly man in the lead shouted, and the three men immediately leaped in different directions.

But this was only the first wave of attacks. Lynn had timed it perfectly, and just as they had gained their footing, the second trap was triggered—several sharpened wooden stakes sprang up from the snow, not fatal, but enough to cause damage and confusion.

One of the guards was unable to dodge completely; the stake tore through his leg armor, and blood immediately seeped out.

"Damn it! There's an ambush!" the man cried out in anguish.

"Nonsense!" the leader roared, his voice deep and savage. "Come out! Whoever you are, what kind of skill is it to hide in the shadows!"

Lynn didn't respond, but continued moving. In the darkness and familiar terrain, he had the advantage. The training he had received from Wolverine these past few days had not only improved his combat skills, but more importantly, taught him how to think like a predator—patient, cunning, and deadly.

He quietly approached the injured guard, and while the guard was tending to his leg injury, he suddenly attacked from the side.

Lynn's fist struck the opponent's carotid artery precisely, something Wolverine had taught him—it doesn't take much force; as long as you hit the right spot, you can temporarily knock someone unconscious.

The guard fell to the ground with a thud, and Lynn immediately dragged him behind a rock.

"Jack!" another guard shouted, realizing his companion had disappeared.

"Stay alert!" the leader commanded, his eyes scanning the darkness for the attacker's location. "It's that FBI agent. Hall, I know it's you. We've reviewed your file—Lynn Hall, FBI Special Operations, combat expert, tracking specialist. Impressive, but you're just an ordinary person."

Lynn remained silent, continuing to use the terrain for cover while searching for his next opportunity.

“Work with us, Hall,” the leader continued, his voice carrying a strange allure. “You know the value of that creature. Its genes may hold the secrets of human evolution. Imagine how many lives we could save if we could decode its healing abilities, its environmental adaptability? Don’t you want to be a part of this great discovery?”

"Then why the sneaky arrests?" Lynn finally spoke, his voice coming from a different direction—he was speaking while moving, making it impossible for the other party to pinpoint his location. "Why not conduct research through legitimate channels?"

“Because the proper course of action in this world is too slow,” the leader said, “bound by countless regulations, ethics committees, and political considerations. Human evolution cannot wait. We need swift, decisive action.”

“That’s just an excuse,” Lynn said. “The truth is, you just want to sell the mother animal and her cubs as commodities to buyers willing to pay a high price. Don’t try to glorify illegal transactions as scientific research.”

The leader was silent for a moment, then laughed—a low, dangerous laugh. “Looks like you won’t cooperate. Fine, I never liked negotiating anyway.”

He suddenly sprang into action with astonishing speed. His body began to change—his muscles swelled, his skin became darker, and bony spikes grew from his arms.

“I am Greg Malok,” he announced, his voice growing wilder, “a senior capture specialist for the Gene Hunters organization, and also a Level 3 mutant. You want to protect that creature? You’ll have to get past me first!”

He lunged towards the spot where Lynn had last spoken, his massive fist slamming into the rock, shattering it and sending fragments flying. But Lynn was no longer there. He moved again, this time to Malok's side or rear.

Lynn knew he couldn't defeat this mutant in a direct confrontation. His opponent possessed superhuman strength and speed, and seemed to have some kind of bone armor protecting him. But Wolverine had taught him—powerful enemies often have obvious weaknesses because they rely too heavily on their strength.

Lynn took out a flashbang—one of his standard pieces of equipment—pulled the fuse, and threw it at Marlock.

An intense light burst forth in the darkness, so bright that even enhanced eyes could not immediately adjust. Malok roared in agony, covering his eyes with his hands.

Lynn seized the opportunity and rushed forward. But his target wasn't Marlock himself, but another guard. While the man was still affected by the flash, Lynn delivered a precise side kick to his knee, followed by an elbow strike to his temple.

The second guard fell.

Now only Marlock and Lynn remain—a mutant versus a human.

Marok's vision gradually returned, and he saw that his two henchmen had been taken down. Enrage ignited in his eyes. "You're more difficult to deal with than I expected. But the game is over!"

He charged at Lynn again, this time faster and more violently. Lynn barely dodged the first blow, but the edge of the second grazed his ribs, the immense impact sending him flying several meters before he crashed heavily onto the snow.

A sharp pain shot through his ribs; another one might have snapped. Lynn forced himself to stand, knowing that if he fell, he would never be able to stand again.

Marlock approached slowly, like a cat toying with a mouse. "You're brave, Hall, I admit that. But bravery can't make up for a lack of strength."

“Perhaps not,” Lynn said breathlessly, while discreetly reaching behind his back, “but wisdom can.”

He suddenly pulled out a signal pistol, aimed it at Marlock, and pulled the trigger.

The red flare struck Malok in the chest at close range. Although it did not cause any real damage, the high temperature and impact caused Malok to stagger back a few steps.

More importantly, the flare illuminated the entire area and attracted attention from afar.

"You're calling for backup?" Marok sneered. "It's useless; the nearest village is dozens of kilometers away."

“I’m not calling for backup,” Lynn said, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I’m telling my partner that things are settled here.”

“What? You—” Marlock suddenly realized something.

But it was too late. A figure leaped out of the darkness, with deadly speed and power, and crashed directly into Malok.

It's Wolverine.

His claws sliced ​​across Marok's back, cutting through the bone armor and leaving three deep wounds. Marok roared in pain, trying to retaliate, but Wolverine was faster.

“Your other teammates are all packed up,” Wolverine said coldly. “Now it’s your turn.”

Lynn took the opportunity to retreat, giving Wolverine room to fight. He noticed that Wolverine also had some wounds, but they were healing rapidly. Clearly, the other four were not easy to deal with either, but Wolverine still managed to complete his mission.

Marlock realized the situation was dire; his bone armor, though powerful, was as fragile as paper against the adamantium claws.

“The gene hunters won’t let you get away with this!” Marlock threatened. “We’ll bring more people, more powerful mutants, and more advanced weapons!”

“Let them come,” Wolverine said, striking Marlock’s shoulder with another claw. “I’ll be here waiting.”

Knowing he couldn't win, Marlock made an unexpected decision—he suddenly turned around and ran away at full speed.

Wolverine wanted to give chase, but Lynn stopped him, "Let him go."

"What?" Wolverine turned to look at Lynn.

“Let him go, let him go back in fear,” Lynn said, his breathing still a little rapid. “Let him tell the Gene Hunters how dangerous this island is, how high the price can be. Sometimes, a living loser is more intimidating than a dead martyr.”

Wolverine thought for a moment and nodded. "You're right. Besides, if we kill too many people, the FBI might have trouble handling the aftermath."

Marok quickly disappeared into the darkness, leaving only bloodstains on the snow.

“Where are the others?” Lynn asked.

“They’re all alive, but incapacitated,” Wolverine said. “One has a dislocated arm, both legs are broken, and one has a concussion. All in the places I marked, tightly bound.”

“Then we succeeded,” Lynn said, finally sitting down. “We held on.”

“We held off the first wave,” Wolverine cautioned, “but Marlock is right, they might come back.”

“Then we’ll continue to hold out,” Lynn said firmly, “until reinforcements arrive, until this area is truly safe.”

Wolverine looked at Lynn, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "You know what, Hall, I'm starting to understand why Charles always had hope for humanity. You've shown me that humans can also possess the courage and determination of mutants."

“Just doing the right thing,” Lynn said.

Over the next few hours, they were busy cleaning up the battlefield, dealing with prisoners, and reinforcing the defenses. Lynn's rib injury made it difficult for him to move, but he gritted his teeth and persevered until all the work was done.

At dawn, as the first rays of sunlight touched the snowfield, Lynn stood on the high ground, looking west—the direction where the mother beast and her cubs were hiding.

"Do you think they're safe?" he asked Wolverine.

“It should be safe,” Wolverine said. “The terrain in that direction is more complex, and the coming blizzard will cover their tracks.”

“That’s good,” Lynn said, then took out his satellite phone and dialed Jason’s number. “Supervisor, I’m here to report the situation.”

“Lynn! Thank God you’re still alive,” Jason’s voice was filled with relief. “What happened?”

“The gene hunters sent seven men,” Lynn reported. “We repelled them, captured six, and one escaped. The target bio-organism has been safely moved to a concealed location. No casualties, but I need medical support—I may have broken a few more ribs.” (End of Chapter)