Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

"Be careful!"

Meng Zhaowen suddenly grabbed his collar and shoved him into the crater.

A ceramic bullet grazed Liu Zhen's temple and hit the dirt behind him. The splashes of mud hit his face, making him wince in pain.

The sniper had already locked onto their position; half a second later, the bullet would have pierced his head.

"The jammer's on, so the coupling won't work." Liu Zhen wiped the blood from his nose, his voice trembling—not from fear, but from pain. "We have no choice but to force it."

As they spoke, the mercenaries had advanced to within fifty meters of the crater. The flamethrowers lit up again, and a fiery orange dragon descended upon them.

Liu Zhen rolled to the side with Meng Zhaowen in his arms. The scorching air grazed his back and burned several holes in his coat.

The wound on my left shoulder was pulled, and blood started to gush out again, flowing down my arm and dripping onto the electric arc, where it hissed and emitted white smoke.

He gritted his teeth, keeping a close eye on the mercenary line as he ran, waiting for a break to reload.

These people were working together so well, in groups of three: one fired, one reloaded, and one used a flamethrower to suppress the enemy, leaving no gaps at all.

Liu Zhen was out of breath, his lungs felt heavy as if they were filled with lead, his left leg was starting to go weak, and his strength was rapidly declining. If they continued like this, they would be worn down to death here in at most ten minutes.

Finally, the flamethrower in the front group made a hollow "click".

Reload interval!

"Now!" Liu Zhen shoved Meng Zhaowen aside, turned and charged towards the gun barrel. The electric arc in his palm surged, no longer the precise control of coupling, but a high-voltage discharge squeezed out from his own physical strength.

A surge of dark blue electricity erupted from his palm, striking the chest of the mercenary who had just replaced his empty fuel tank.

The man groaned, his body convulsing as he knelt on one knee, the fuel canister in his hand clattering to the ground.

The breach has been created!

Just as Liu Zhen was about to charge forward, the mercenaries on his left immediately filled in, their flamethrowers spitting out flames again, forcing him to retreat.

At the same time, a sniper rifle fired from above, the bullet grazing his arm and cutting a deep gash that exposed bone in his upper arm.

The mercenaries quickly filled the gap, and the opening was sealed off instantly, leaving not a single crack.

"Then let's go around!" Liu Zhen spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, grabbed Meng Zhaowen and ran to the left, trying to find an opportunity from the flank.

Meng Zhaowen was being carried along by him, her other hand pressed against the ground, her fingertips frantically probing into the soil, trying to find even the slightest trace of the remaining roots.

The soil on this lawn has been turned over more than once. All the roots of the native plants have been dug up, and underneath is compacted soil. There are only a few strands of almost dead grass roots, like threads about to die.

He gritted his teeth and poured his last bit of spiritual energy into it. The few grass roots grew upwards like crazy. They had only sprouted half a meter from the ground when they were sizzled by the oncoming flames and instantly turned into charcoal.

"No..." A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of Meng Zhaowen's mouth. "The roots are too shallow, and it's burned too thoroughly..."

His mental energy was already depleted. The backlash from forcibly stimulating the growth of the grass roots caused him a splitting headache, his vision blurred, and the injury to his left leg was getting worse. Every step he took felt like stepping on a knife's edge.

He tried to induce childbirth three times, and each time the flames burned him to ashes.

The enemy was too well prepared; they even cleared away every blade of grass that they might use. This open area was a slaughterhouse prepared specifically for them.

Liu Zhen also noticed the patterns of the electromagnetic interference device.

Every 30 seconds of operation, there is a pause of two to three seconds, which is probably due to the equipment overheating and needing to be shut down briefly to cool down.

The window of opportunity was too short, almost too short to grasp, but it was their only chance.

When he told Meng Zhaowen about this discovery, Meng Zhaowen's eyes lit up for a moment, then dimmed again.

Three seconds isn't even enough to complete resonance, let alone launch an attack.

When the window first appeared, Liu Zhen stretched out his mental tentacles with all his might. Just as he touched the nerves of the mercenary at the front, the jammer activated again.

The violent backlash made him stagger and fall to the ground, his face scraping against the scorched earth, tearing off a layer of skin.

When he got up, his mouth was full of mud and blood. He spat it out twice and then kept running.

The second window appeared one second later than expected.

This time, Liu Zhen learned his lesson and didn't try to be greedy. He focused all his mental energy on the heart of the mercenary at the front. The electric current instantly pierced through the man's combat uniform, and the man collapsed without even uttering a sound.

The breach has reopened!

"Charge!" Liu Zhen, supporting Meng Zhaowen, used his last bit of strength to rush towards the gap.

five meters.

three meters.

one meter.

Just as they were about to break through the gap, the mercenaries on the right side filled in, their flamethrowers sweeping across and forcing them to retreat.

Meanwhile, sniper bullets hit near their feet, splashing mud into their eyes. By the time Liu Zhen rubbed the mud out of his eyes, the breach had been sealed again.

It was so close, just a tiny bit more.

The wall of fire and bullets pushed them step by step toward the edge of the lawn, with the fire net blocking their way behind them. If they retreated any further, they would be swallowed up by the fire dragon.

The two were forced into the crater created by the last grenade, leaning against the cold crater wall, panting heavily.

Liu Zhen's left shoulder had stopped bleeding; the blood had almost dried up. His entire arm was as cold as ice, and his left trouser leg was soaked in blood so much that it could be wrung out. He could barely stand.

Meng Zhaowen's face was as white as paper, and her breathing was as light as a feather, as if she might faint at any moment.

A brief, insecure respite.

Liu Zhen reached into his pocket and his fingertips touched the photo wrapped in plastic film. The edges were worn and frayed, but the photo was still smooth.

He took out the photo and looked at it by the light of the main building in the distance. The woman in the photo was smiling, and the boy, who was missing a front tooth, was also smiling. The sunlight fell on their faces, so warm it was dazzling.

His fingertips gently brushed across their faces, and his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, a sour and painful sensation.

Is it worth dying here?

he does not know.

All he knew was that he couldn't just die like that. There was still Song Mingzhang, Wang Hongyuan, and so many people who owed him money. They were still alive and still at large.

He looked up toward the main building. The light in the study on the third floor was still on. He knew that Song Mingzhang was behind that window, watching them struggle like trapped beasts, as if watching a joke.

Conventional methods were ineffective; the enemy was far too well-prepared, and both their physical and mental strength were running low.

Liu Zhen did not close his eyes. He looked at Meng Zhaowen beside him, his eyes filled with trust, not despair.