Everyone changed into full camouflage gear. The training instructor explained the basics of field firearms and various safety precautions. Each person picked a handy "weapon" from the Black Hawk series of bullpup rifles, light machine guns, and sniper rifles—actually all laser emitters—at the "Assembly Call" wild camp. Then, they split into blue and red teams, each team forming male-female pairs, and entered the woods of Tiger Ridge Park to start the "Fireline Duo" combat tournament.
Shawn Young and Yvette Liu were on the blue team, naturally paired together. To make the battlefield more realistic, the woods were filled with earth mounds for cover, stretching and undulating, perfect for hiding. There were also bunkers standing tall. As soon as the red and blue teams entered the "battlefield" from opposite sides, a fierce gunfight broke out, creating a strong combat atmosphere—pretty exciting!
Yvette Liu was having a blast. She had no idea how to find cover or dodge—she just kept shooting at anyone she saw, laughing out loud: "Got you! Got you!"—which quickly drew heavy fire from the red team "enemies." Before she could really enjoy herself, she was "gloriously" taken out! Pouting, she had to leave the battlefield, disappointed.
Shawn Young was helpless and had to fight solo. Luckily, his body was now far stronger than a normal person’s—his reflexes and speed much faster too. The rich kids on the other team didn’t stand a chance against him; he even "took out" several pairs by himself.
But Shawn soon noticed that a few guys on the other team were actually pretty tough. They kept tailing him relentlessly, hunting him down, and their marksmanship was spot-on. They worked together with real skill—clearly well-trained. Meanwhile, the rest of the blue team were total newbies and got "eliminated" fast. After they all withdrew, Shawn was left fighting alone for the blue team.
Still, Shawn wasn’t scared. He thought this was way more exciting anyway, so he started a game of cat and mouse in the woods with his pursuers. What Shawn didn’t know was that Young Master Jiang was lurking nearby, grinning slyly and waiting for this exact moment—
Shawn entered a patch of woods thick with trees and wild grass, planning to hide. Suddenly, several figures quickly surrounded him. He looked up—three big, burly "teammates" from the red team. He had no idea how they’d gotten there, and they didn’t bother with cover. They just strode straight toward him. Shawn didn’t hold back; he fired his laser rifle in rapid bursts, hitting all three and releasing clouds of colorful "elimination" smoke.
But the three "teammates" didn’t leave the "battlefield." Instead, their faces turned fierce. They tossed aside their laser guns and each pulled out a palm-sized black metal rod from their gear. With a flick of the wrist, the rods snapped open into metal batons over forty centimeters long!
Shawn recognized these instantly—they were the popular self-defense weapon, the "expandable baton!" Made from high-carbon steel, these batons were once used by special police forces in the US and other developed countries. They could easily shatter bones and were seriously dangerous cold weapons.
Seeing the three men closing in, faces full of murderous intent, Shawn Young asked coldly, "Uh—what do you guys want?!"
"Heh heh—what do we want?! We want you!" one of the burly men cackled, swinging his baton straight for Shawn’s head, clearly trying to beat him half to death!
Shawn dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the brutal strike. The burly man didn’t stop, though—he let out a weird yell and kept swinging the baton, smashing it hard toward Shawn’s body.
That ticked Shawn off. He summoned his internal energy, letting it surge through his body. His eyes locked onto the path of the incoming baton. Instead of backing away, he stepped right up to the guy, his right hand packed with force, and struck like lightning—"Bang!"—landing a blow straight to the guy’s gut.
"Waaah—" The burly man was hit so hard his body curled up, nearly puking bile. He flew four or five meters, rolling into the weeds, hurting so bad he couldn’t get up, just lying there groaning, half-dead.
The two remaining burly men were shocked. They exchanged glances, clearly stunned by how tough Shawn was. With a shout, they attacked from both sides, swinging their batons at Shawn’s face and the back of his head—going straight for the vital spots. If either hit landed, Shawn would be dead or crippled!
Shawn’s eyes narrowed. These guys were out for blood—he didn’t even know them, had no beef, and yet they were trying to kill him. Obviously, someone had sent them to ambush him!
But Shawn didn’t have time to think. The two batons were already whistling through the air, making sharp, menacing sounds. Shawn didn’t mess around—he stepped back, dodging both deadly blows, then, while their momentum was off, charged forward with a shout. He moved so fast he was a blur, and landed two powerful punches right on their jaws—"Bang—bang—" two muffled thuds.
"Waaah—waaah—" Both men screamed as their hefty bodies—each at least 170 pounds—were sent flying, landing five or six meters away in the grass, instantly knocked out cold.
Shawn snorted, picked up one of the batons from the ground, and strode over to the guy who hadn’t passed out yet, still struggling in the grass. He stomped on the man’s face and asked coldly, "Who are you guys? Who sent you to ambush me? Talk!"
The burly man tried to act tough, groaning and refusing to talk. Shawn didn’t bother being polite—he brought the baton down on the guy’s right hand—"Crack!!" The sharp sound echoed as Shawn shattered his hand bones. "Aaaah—" The man screamed in agony.
But Shawn didn’t stop. With another flick of his wrist—"Crack!"—he smashed the man’s right elbow. The bone snapped with a sickening sound, and before the man could even scream, Shawn swung again—"Crack!"—hitting him in the face, leaving a bloody mark and sending broken teeth and blood flying!
Those three brutal hits were savage and full of killing intent. The burly man was wracked with pain, wanting to scream, but Shawn stomped on his mouth, silencing him. Shawn sneered, "Gotta say, I admire your guts! But I don’t like people who don’t cooperate. If you won’t talk, then you’ll just keep suffering—"
As Shawn spoke, he raised the baton, ready to "work him over" some more. The burly man finally panicked—he believed Shawn would really torture him without mercy. He was just a thug, not that tough, and he broke down, waving his hands and making muffled noises to show he’d cooperate.
But Shawn was hooked now, and still smashed his shoulder—"Crack!"—breaking his scapula. The pain was so intense, the man trembled and nearly lost control of his bladder and bowels, but with Shawn’s foot on his mouth, he couldn’t even scream.
Then Shawn raised the baton again, threatening to bash his head. The thug regretted not cooperating from the start—he wished Shawn had just knocked him out like the other two. Now, with Shawn’s sadistic streak in full swing, he was in for real misery! He’d rather be unconscious than tortured like this!
"Heh heh—last chance. You don’t have to talk, you know! I’m not the type to force people!" Shawn finally said, then lifted his foot.
"I—I’ll talk—I’ll talk—it was Young Master Jiang who sent us! We—we’re with the Blue Wolf Syndicate!" The thug, relieved, spilled everything in a rush.