Chapter Twenty-One: Killed with a Single Punch?

This creature could easily crush the chest of an elite soldier with a single swipe of its claw, and had silently followed their group of twenty for some distance without being detected. Jiang Ming found this unsettling to the point of terror. He couldn’t help but wonder—if this had been a living person armed with firearms, his group might have been wiped out before even knowing who their enemy was.

The remaining eighteen men also stared at the beast. It was as large as a fully grown bull, with eyes the size of an adult’s fist. Its head bore two eyes and a wide mouth; above the mouth, two holes exhaled hot air—presumably its nostrils. Around its neck was a thick brown mane, reminiscent of a lion, and its body was covered in pitch-black fur. No one could tell what kind of animal it was, and a thin tail flicked restlessly behind it.

The creature’s right claw pressed down on the soldier it had just felled, drool dripping from its mouth. The saliva sizzled as it landed on the dead man's body, corroding his uniform. Though the soldier was already dead, all nineteen survivors saw this and their eyes reddened with grief—the fallen was their brother, a comrade-in-arms.

Jiang Ming felt this loss even more keenly. Perhaps other special forces teams didn’t care, but in the Central Region’s special forces, training a single soldier required immense resources and effort. Now, an elite had died inexplicably—a considerable loss for their unit. Moreover, the fallen was under his command, and the bond was strong.

The monster watched the nineteen fully armed men with a predator’s gaze, its eyes fixed on them like prey. Its bulbous eyes flicked briefly to their shotguns, but it showed no sign of retreat, as if it considered them already devoured.

Jiang Ming and his nineteen companions dared not act rashly, mechanically firing their shotguns in a futile attempt to vent their sorrow. From the moment the creature appeared, Jiang Ming had already called for the other nine squads to hurry over. He dared not act alone now, remembering the captain’s orders; after sending out the alert, he resolved to stall for time until reinforcements arrived.

Once two hundred fully armed soldiers assembled, Jiang Ming was confident they could kill this beast. He was calling for help, but the monster would not wait. Suddenly, it moved.

Its speed was unmatched—none present had ever seen anything so fast; not even a cheetah could rival it. The creature’s target was unclear at first, but it quickly lunged at the nearest soldier.

"Qiangzi!" Jiang Ming shouted.

The targeted man, Qiangzi, had been prepared. As the beast pounced, he dodged back, but its claws caught his right thigh. His army-green combat pants were torn open in three places, and his thigh was shredded, blood and flesh mangled. He fell to the ground, drained of strength.

Lying on the ground, Qiangzi exhaled deeply—he must have been in agony, but only grunted, saying, “Captain, I’m fine.”

“Qiangzi, fall back. Xiao Cheng, Lin Yan, cover him,” Jiang Ming ordered gravely, eyes fixed on the beast.

Two men moved forward, guns at the ready, covering Qiangzi as they approached. Just as they reached him, the creature struck, its claw swiping at Qiangzi’s head.

Seeing Qiangzi’s imminent death, Xiao Cheng and Lin Yan couldn’t react in time. The others instinctively unleashed a volley from their shotguns at the beast. Jiang Ming’s heart chilled—Qiangzi was about to die, and he couldn’t bear to watch.

As Jiang Ming braced himself for Qiangzi’s end, a sudden rush of wind sounded behind him; a figure darted past. The eighteen others stopped their firing, recognizing the silhouette as one of their own, fearing friendly fire.

The figure charged straight at the beast, delivering a powerful kick that sent it tumbling four or five meters across the grass, roaring in rage.

It was Feng Yisheng. Running at full speed, the newly initiated Feng Yisheng covered a hundred meters in under five seconds and arrived just in time. Seeing the beast kicked away, Xiao Cheng and Lin Yan hurried to Qiangzi, helping him up and bringing him behind the group.

Feng Yisheng was momentarily stunned by his own strength—he hadn’t expected to send such a large, unknown creature flying so far with one kick.

At that moment, the group turned grateful eyes toward him. Feng Yisheng spun, striking a pose he believed fitting for a savior, head held high, thinking to himself, “Well? Am I not impressive? Someone praise me already!”

But the nineteen looked at Feng Yisheng with odd expressions. His ill-fitting clothes, stretched tight from his sprint, made him look comical.

Noticing their strange looks, Feng Yisheng was about to speak when Jiang Ming shouted, “Watch out, young hero!”

Feng Yisheng’s nerves sharpened instantly—he sensed danger behind him and spun, instinctively punching with his right hand. This time, he poured all his spiritual energy into the blow.

His fist struck the beast’s right temple with a sound like a hammer breaking steel. Stunned, the monster collapsed, then flew seven or eight meters like a severed kite. The nineteen watched as the previously impervious beast emitted a shriek; blood streamed from its wide mouth, its massive body convulsed, and though its eyes remained open, it died unwillingly.

Only then did the others realize what had happened, their eyes wide as they stared at the youth in ill-fitting clothes.

Doubt filled their hearts—was the beast really dead? Hadn’t even 25mm shotguns failed to pierce it? And now, this seventeen-or eighteen-year-old had killed it with a single punch?

Were their bullets all just blanks?

Moments ago, when Feng Yisheng had kicked the creature four or five meters, they’d already thought him formidable.