Chapter 731 - 39: Zawahiri_2
...
Noticing Paul’s movement, Zawahiri’s face twisted into a sinister smile beneath his mask—
Although it was his first time participating in this cooperative trial, his keen sense of the rules allowed him to roughly understand the unspoken rule of distributing each group of challengers.
If one member of a team is too strong, the other must be relatively weak.
Just like his partner who was killed; in front of him, there was simply no chance to fight back.
The terrifying extent of the other member in this group of challengers even suppresses him, so reasonably, this big fellow should be weaker.
Interestingly, such a weak person didn’t choose to flee when facing him, nor did he call for his companion.
Why? Is it confidence in his own strength, or is it contempt for him?
...
Feeling the capsule was taking effect, Zawahiri removed the sheath from his waist, gripping it in his hand, shifting left and right, using fake movements to deceive Paul, moving swiftly within the swaying.
When the weak fast regeneration capsule takes effect, the rapidly regenerating body tissue can create a feeling of overlapping itch and pain, sometimes reaching pain levels as intense as level 8, causing one to completely lose combat capability.
To counteract the side effects, a pain-relieving and itch-relieving component is added to the Regeneration Capsule, which can cloak the nerves when the drug takes effect.
For Zawahiri, this capsule is not only a top-notch drug but also a special stimulant.
At least during the effective period of the drug, he doesn’t fear pain or injury.
...
Paul had never faced an enemy like this. As soon as they clashed, Zawahiri’s heavy sheath nearly knocked the military saber out of his hand.
While parrying the attacks, gripping the saber too tightly, Paul’s palms were even marked with blood.
The Black-robed Man was like a silent beast; once the attack began, it was like a storm, attacking continuously, giving him no chance to breathe.
All Paul could do was defend.
Struggling to catch the trace of the attack amid the strikes of the sheath and then using the embedded military saber in his palm to intercept.
Once, twice, three times...
His heart rate rose sharply, and so did the opponent’s attack frequency, making Paul gradually indistinguishable from the trajectory of the sheath’s attacks.
Thus, he suffered the first hit—
The sheath bypassed his unsteady defense and struck hard on his shoulder.
The severe pain made Paul’s entire face scrunched up. It was his right shoulder, and he held the saber with his right hand; after being attacked, his shoulder went completely numb, and he could no longer grip the military saber tightly.
Struggling to release his right hand from the handle, Paul caught the knife with his left hand, yet before he could regroup, the Black-robed Man kicked him, knocking him to the ground.
His back slammed heavily against a tree trunk, and Paul felt his internal organs shifted, with the scene in front of him even appearing double.
"Cough~"
His lungs itched, and Paul spat out some fluid, not knowing if it was blood, stomach acid, or bile.
...
"Do you not know what fear means?"
Zawahiri stopped attacking, pressing down on Paul’s injured shoulder, looking down at him from above.
This was the first time Paul heard this guy speak since their first meeting; before that, he had always assumed the black-robed man was mute.
He could tell the black-robed man was speaking Arabic but didn’t know what he was saying.
Paul only knew that whatever came out of this guy’s mouth right now was certainly not good, and to this, he could only respond with—
"Suka blyat!"
As soon as these bloody words left his mouth, Paul felt a sharp pain in his knee.
The Black-robed Man stepped onto his knee, exerting force and grinding left and right.
Clenching his teeth, Paul made no sound, merely managed to lift his head to glare at the mask of the Black-robed man.
At this moment, he wished most that he could speak Arabic so he could ask this guy—
"How much ugliness do you hide behind your mask."
But he couldn’t open his mouth, nor could he continue to fight back.
The Black-robed Man’s height was no less than his own, and the advantage in physique and combat skills formed a suppression, making it very difficult to hold on until now; this was an absolute strength gap that couldn’t be bridged.
...
The smile beneath the mask grew more complacent.
Zawahiri enjoyed seeing the expression of others enduring pain, and even more enjoyed seeing them suffer, like that partner who lost his duo.
He was never afraid of offending anyone.
Now, he really wanted to know the reaction of this person’s partner if they arrived to find only a corpse.
Unfortunately, that terrifying person has already left some shadow over him. In a direct confrontation, it would be extremely difficult to win the fight.
Being entangled again, without a Regeneration Capsule, escaping becomes even harder, so he is unlikely to be able to enjoy the other’s expression.
But now, Zawahiri had a more interesting idea—
If instead of a corpse on the ground, the choice placed upon the terrible guy was a seriously injured partner, would he choose to continue fighting for supplies with the burden, or directly kill his useless companion?
This seemed more intriguing, more revengeful, more to his taste.
Just pondering how to exact revenge, Zawahiri suddenly felt a rush of wind assaulting from behind and the sides.
The wind carried the unique stench of predators.
In an instant, Zawahiri realized these were the three juvenile Saw-toothed Tigers.
With a light laugh, since seeing those three little tigers, he had never regarded them as a threat.
If it were three adult Saw-toothed Tigers, it would be tricky, but what could little tigers, however fierce, do?
With a slight dodge, Zawahiri evaded Tiger First’s attack, then he kicked Tiger Second away, but felt a slight numb itch on his other leg.
The Regeneration Capsule was still taking effect, and the intense pain was normally minimized, Zawahiri knew well of this and hastily looked towards that leg—
Tiger Third, eyes filled with ferocity, clung onto Zawahiri’s calf with its claws, a pair of dagger-like fangs deeply embedded into his trouser leg, Zawahiri’s blood already stained its mouth.
"غاشمه! (Beast)"
Never expecting to be bitten by a small tiger, Zawahiri raised the sheath in his hand and slammed it fiercely onto Tiger Third’s spine.
With a crisp sound, Tiger Third’s back showed a distinct indentation, its hind legs becoming weak, but it still didn’t loosen its bite, its tiger eyes seemingly bleeding, unsheathing its claws holding even tighter.
The expression beneath the mask could no longer remain calm, Zawahiri’s always-cold eyes were rarely filled with urgency and rage.
Just about to twist the little tiger’s neck, snap its teeth, and tear it off his leg, the other two Saw-toothed Tigers lunged, making him dodge again.
Tiger roars surrounded Zawahiri.
At the same time, the pain-relieving effect of the Regeneration Capsule began to wane; the wound on Zawahiri’s back felt like it was being scorched by fire, intensely painful.
Affected by the pain and Tiger Third who clung like a sticky plaster, Zawahiri’s murderous intent surged to the maximum.
He almost forgot about that terrifying man, now, he just wants to kill this fearless Slavic, kill those three Saw-toothed Tigers without reverence, and shred them to pieces!
...
Tiger Second originally thought this was just an ordinary hunt, waiting for Paul to handle the prey before they enjoy the spoils.
It did not understand why things had escalated to this, all it knew was that its brother had initiated the attack, it too had to attack.
Attack is the nature of Saw-toothed Tigers.
Their long teeth, the will of their pack, their daring to challenge the Mammoth, their daring to hunt large prey, everything about them evolved for attack.
In Tiger Second’s simple world, there is no fear.
It lunged a third time, then again was kicked away heavily, rolling several times on the hard ground.
This time, it took a longer time to get up, but without any hesitation or pause, launched its attack again.
And Tiger First, having taken a strike from the sheath, was thrown sideways to the ground, yet to rise.
...
The battle continued.
Or rather, the one-sided massacre continued, amidst the unwilling tiger roars, amidst the smell of blood, under the stimulus of pain, Zawahiri almost forgot someone was tracking him.
Until the sound of shuriken cutting through the air roared, looking hurriedly over his shoulder, he saw that figure, dragging a rifle, radiating furious anger to such an extent he could only react—
He was not the Hunter but the prey.