In the almost forgotten northern continent of Pai Shang, there is a piece of frozen land. Although the climate of this planet is generally humid and hot, the everlasting scream of ice breaking echoes here every day.
There is a valley with cliffs 9 kilometers deep, stars shining at the top, and ancient ice so white that it can hurt the eyes just by staring at it for a while.
As the ice descends, it changes from pure white to translucent blue, deep purple, and finally a deep red that resembles the algae that were frozen in the rock ice billions of years ago. Fuel and sap color the ice.
The screaming cold wind sliced through countless sharp ice cubes on the top of the valley, and the howling wind was distorted and amplified by the narrow valley.
Howling sounded in his ears, and Hank Evans was slipping and rolling all the time as he walked on the scarlet ice slope at the bottom of the valley. The harsh wind kept coming, trying to blow away his camouflage cloak.
Despite the insulation provided by his cloak, gloves, and cold-weather clothing, he still felt numb from the cold.
This feeling - or lack thereof - had replaced the discomfort of an hour ago.
Even though he just wanted to lie still, he still didn't understand why he, a cutter, would run to this damn planet full of heretics and demons, and be chased by a large group of howling cultists as soon as he landed. ?
More and more gunshots rang out, and countless bullets flew in his direction. He had even become accustomed to the strange sound produced by the bullets colliding with the ice here: when the hot bullets hit the ice, they first made a moist sound. There was a crackle, followed by a hiss of steam.
The ice melted around the black bullet holes before quickly refreezing, and countless blackened wounds and perfect circles dotted the red ice around him.
Soon, he slid into a deeper depression in the ice and lowered himself.
But the gunshots became more frequent, low and desperate.
One of the bullets was barely a hand's width above his head, its echo buzzing.
Soon after, the noise turned into silence, or rather, the enemy's continuous howling was almost silent in the vast ice and snow.
Hank Evans rolled over, chin tucked into his chest, looking back down the valley the way he'd come.
Except for a crumpled black object a hundred meters behind him, there was no sign of anyone or anything. He knew that it was the unlucky guy who had stepped into the trap.
But he only had two of these portable traps, and the boss only gave him two.
Speaking of his boss, Rozim, the best chef in the battle group and investor in the hive city restaurant chain, Hank Evans didn't know if he was dead.
However, based on Rozim's usual behavior, he felt that several cultists might have no choice but to avoid each other.
He struggled to stand up and glanced at his gun. The sight lens of the gun was cracked and covered with ice formed by the evaporation of water in his eyes.
Hank Evans cursed and stepped back, firing three random shots into the darkness of the canyon. In response, a dozen guns fired at him simultaneously, creating a man-made blizzard in the icy dust.
Then he took refuge in a cave, a low, steep-roofed cave formed by the slow movement of the earth's crust in an ice cliff.
Hank Evans was panting, the shrapnel wound on his thigh pricking his nerves.
He half-knelt down closest to the cave entrance, face down in the ice, and worked hard to install the trap until the severe pain of the cold caused him to turn over.
But the heat in the cave was suddenly suffocating. Although it was only a few degrees above zero, compared with the ice and snow, it was almost tropical.
So Hank Evans took off his cloak and gloves, and after a moment his thermal vest. He shivered, feeling wet and hot. Sweat flowed down his back like steam in a sauna. The large amount of sweat wetted his thermal clothing.
He checked his legs and saw a hole in his pants mid-thigh that looked like something melted had burned through it.
Then he realized that the reason why he didn't bleed was because his blood had been frozen by the cold environment, so he endured the severe pain and broke off the black ice cube from his thigh, and then saw the wet scars on his leg.
Cursing Rozim's name, not for the first time in his career as a Chapter servant, and certainly not for the last, he reached for his medical kit and opened it.
Hank Evans took out the wire clip and followed the instructions given during basic medical training.
But the worst thing was that the wire clamp was frozen, and his numb fingers could only push it hard on the ground, but still couldn't open it.
In desperation, it took him a long time to take out a needle from the sterile paper bag. He had already taken out several needles before.
Hank Evans bit down on the needle, trying to find the loose part of the suture.
Finally, he pinched the end of the thread between his numb fingers, picked up the needle, and tried to thread it through the needle hole.
But compared to shooting a laser gun with extremely poor accuracy at a bullseye ten kilometers away, he found it more difficult to penetrate a pinhole.
After trying 20 times, Hank Evans took the needle again with his teeth and tried to twist the frayed thread together with his hands.
Suddenly, something hit him hard from behind and smashed his head into the snow.
Hank Evans lay on the ground in panic, gradually hearing grunts and whimpering coming from behind. His tongue hurt and his mouth was full of blood.
A huge thing came slowly.
He turned his head slowly and gave the thing a sideways glance, like a man looking into a mirror while shaving.
This is a dirty mutant, almost two meters tall, wearing simple iron armor, its shoulders and arms are covered with huge muscles that are unimaginable to ordinary people, and its head is very large, almost twice the size of a human. It resembles a goat, with huge horns extending forward, and blackened teeth protruding from rotten gums like chisels.
He couldn't see the thing's eyes, but he could smell the foul smell and the corrosive saliva that splattered and dripped from its half-open mouth.
Hank Evans, who was pretending to be dead, saw it playing with his medical bag with big hands that could easily break a human throat like a branch, and pulled out a roll of gauze, bit it, chewed it, and then spit it out.
It's hungry——
Hank Evans was so frightened by the thought that he stopped moving.
Suddenly it came over to him, pulled his hair, pulled him back like a puppet, and rummaged through his clothes with its other hand.
Hank Evans's convulsing, open mouth spurted blood onto his chest.
He continued to pretend to be dead, but his left hand quietly reached for the knife at his waist.
The giant beastman shook him repeatedly like a bag of bones, then sniffed behind Hank Evans' ears.
The heat hit him, and the rancid smell swirled in his nose.
The dirty mutated creature muttered a few mysterious words, which made Hank Evans nervous and he quickly slid the knife out of its sheath.
He moved very quickly, preparing to stab the opponent with his knife.
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