Chapter 97: Hunter's Island (6)
Chapter 97: Hunter’s Island (6)
The hounds’ barks heralded danger closing in, and this threat was clearly aimed at Feng Bu Jue.
He opened the game menu, glancing at the task bar. The displayed time read: 【197 minutes until sunrise】.
37 minutes had passed since General Zaroff’s departure. Though Feng Bu Jue had rushed for over an hour at his fastest pace, the likelihood of being caught at this point remained high.
As the hounds’ howls grew louder, the giant python nearby suddenly abandoned its meal, leaving the wild boar and fleeing into the dark jungle. Clearly, the island’s animals understood what those barks signified—they might not fear the dogs themselves, but they certainly feared the dogs’ master.
Feng Bu Jue realized time was running out. He had to act decisively. Even if death seemed inevitable, he needed to buy more time for his two remaining teammates, increasing their chances of survival.
Hiding was probably futile. Feng Bu Jue had left footprints along the way—traces that, to Zaroff’s tracking skills, were as obvious as broken branches or crushed grass. No detail would escape Cossack eyes.
And Zaroff had his hounds. To creatures with olfactory senses a hundred times sharper than humans’, the scent trails on the soil were like illuminated road signs.
In this situation, the prey should be on the verge of panic. Hearing a mighty boss closing in through the dark, complex terrain, unsure when or how the hunter would strike—this scenario was all too familiar. In most horror or action games, being relentlessly pursued was always a test of both a player’s nerves and reflexes.
Most players would likely bolt in blind panic, fleeing in any direction to escape the barks. But Feng Bu Jue remained eerily calm. Devoid of fear, he swiftly sheathed his knife, used his flashlight to check which path had the gentlest incline, then sprinted.
He wasn’t worried about the flashlight betraying his position. Even in darkness, Zaroff’s approach wouldn’t slow—while the light might help his pursuers, it would hinder him far more if he stumbled blindly.
After a quick observation, Feng Bu Jue chose a faint trail heading true north. He lit his way with the flashlight, running at his maximum speed. The hounds’ barks drew closer, but he ignored the psychological pressure, never glancing back or faltering. His focus remained locked on the path ahead, ensuring his speed never wavered.
Running through uneven terrain, glancing back at the chaser was a fatal mistake—useless and counterproductive.
In countless horror movies Feng Bu Jue had watched, a recurring scene played out: a character (often a beautiful woman) fleeing a monster through the woods, screaming, glancing over her shoulder at the camera, pursued by a shaky first-person perspective. After a few moments of this, the character inevitably tripped, followed by chaotic editing, a splash of red, and a pig-like scream as the monster claimed its first kill.
Feng Bu Jue wouldn’t make this error. Wanting to see him trip? Impossible. If anyone would fall, it’d be the monster tripping over him.
The chase continued. The hounds closed to within fifteen meters. Feng Bu Jue knew he’d entered Zaroff’s line of sight. Logically, Zaroff now had two choices: unleash the hounds to sprint and tackle the target, or use his boss-level(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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