Chapter 104: Four Packs of Mutant Beasts

A fierce blizzard raged on. After seven or eight hours of uneasy calm, the tranquility was about to shatter. In the distance, a dark tide surged ever closer, rolling forward like the inexorable swell of the sea. Yang Fan drew in a sharp breath—those were all Icefield Snow Wolves. Though only first-tier mutated beasts, they were far more formidable than the likes of Berserk Demon Rats or Savage Demon Hounds; these were fully matured, max-level mutants.

The presence of the Icefield Snow Wolves, rivals even to the insectoid hordes, sent a chill down Yang Fan’s spine. These creatures hunted in packs—soon, no fewer than three or four hundred would descend upon them. It was nothing short of a catastrophe, a calamity beyond compare.

What did three or four hundred mature Icefield Snow Wolves signify? They spelled certain death. Yang Fan might handle three alone, five at the very limit, or ten if he entered a berserk state. But against hundreds? That was sheer fantasy.

His first instinct was to flee, to run as far as he could. Yet if he abandoned the people behind him, they would surely be wiped out. But if he stayed, what power did he really have to save them?

“Damn it,” Yang Fan cursed, then shouted to the already terrified Fu Gaobin, “Go wake everyone up now! And Wang Cheng too—quickly, hurry!”

No sooner had Yang Fan spoken than Li Qiang came running, panic in his voice. “Something’s wrong, something’s very wrong! There’s a huge swarm coming from the west. I checked through the binoculars—some kind of squat dinosaurs. What do we do?”

Yang Fan’s heart skipped. “Squat dinosaurs?” He rushed toward the western edge, shouting back, “Wake everyone! Keep them alert!” He raced to the west and, surveying the scene, saw rows of creatures resembling dinosaurs, only much shorter—barely waist-high to a human. Yet Yang Fan could clearly see their razor-sharp claws, capable of slicing through human flesh with ease.

“Something’s wrong! There’s a pack of gray-white tigers to the south!”

“Something’s wrong! There’s a horde of giant apes coming from the north!”

Two more disasters announced themselves in quick succession. Panic swept through the camp like wildfire. The scene descended into chaos. Li Qiang, Wang Cheng, Fu Gaobin, and several other key figures rushed to Yang Fan’s side, their faces heavy with dread and fear.

“There must be thousands of mutated beasts. Are we really going to die here?” Li Qiang said bitterly, looking to Yang Fan for hope. Yang Fan ignored him, instead fixing his gaze on Fu Gaobin and Wang Cheng. “From this moment,” he said coldly, “anyone who dares to incite panic or cause trouble—kill them.”

Yang Fan’s words were cold and ruthless. Fu Gaobin and Wang Cheng shuddered—not at Yang Fan’s presence, but at his threat. Kill someone? They’d never dare. Yet with everyone around shouting, “We’re doomed! We’re finished!” and wailing in despair, the cacophony was enough to drive anyone mad.

Taking a deep breath, both Fu Gaobin and Wang Cheng strode over in anger, seizing a particularly noisy troublemaker. Their clubs and swords landed with brutal force, leaving the man coughing up blood. “Shut the hell up, all of you!” they roared. “One more word and you’re next!”

In such dire straits, nerves already frayed, even the usually mild-tempered Wang Cheng showed a savage edge. Li Qiang recovered his composure and quickly ordered others to subdue the panicked crowd, then turned back to Yang Fan, attempting to sound calm.

“What do we do now?”

“I’m not a god,” Yang Fan replied coldly. He had quickly surveyed the four directions: Icefield Snow Wolves, Clawed Dinosaurs, Frost Bears, and Frost Tigers. Altogether, there were at least fifteen hundred fully matured, first-tier mutated beasts.

Whether any second-tier monsters hid among them was unknown, but Yang Fan was certain there would be four beast kings. In any group of over a hundred pack creatures, a king would inevitably emerge to lead.

“So that’s it? We’re just going to die here?” Li Qiang protested, unwilling to accept their fate. He crawled up a rise to spy on the gathering beasts below, his heart pounding with terror.

“Four beast kings, each commanding their followers—what are they here for? Food? That seems unlikely,” Yang Fan mused. If only one group had arrived, he might have assumed they were seeking prey. But four? It couldn’t be so simple.

Whatever the reason, he could only speculate now.

“Li Qiang, have everyone get into the trucks,” Yang Fan ordered.

“What? Into the trucks? Why?” Li Qiang asked, bewildered. The vehicles were two or three hundred meters away and buried under snow, meant to help them avoid detection. With so many mutated beasts around, hiding in the trucks seemed like a death sentence.

“I don’t have time to explain. Just do it!” Yang Fan snapped. He wasn’t even sure his guess was correct, but there was no time for debate. He urged Li Qiang to hurry everyone into the trucks. In any case, he possessed the ability to rewind time; his skill’s cooldown had long since ended.

He could return to any time up to fourteen days prior, since the seven-day cooldown didn’t count. He could go back and prevent this disaster. But Yang Fan sensed these mutated beasts weren’t here just for human prey—though what they wanted, he could not say. To find out, he needed everyone to move first.

Once the people hastily made their way toward the trucks, Fu Gaobin and Wang Cheng stubbornly insisted on staying by his side. As the army of mutated beasts approached the foot of the hill, Yang Fan directed the two to a shallow pit they’d dug earlier, then had all three of them bury themselves in snow. Instantly, the cold became biting, but thankfully, they had a fire pearl to keep them warm.

With the blizzard in full force, their bodies gave off no scent, though the discomfort was considerable. Still, a little suffering was a small price for safety.

Once they were well hidden, Yang Fan signaled for silence and watched intently.

The landscape was a low hill, six or seven kilometers wide. Atop the hill spread a plain scattered with trees, and at its heart an open space of some eight or nine hundred square meters, utterly bare.

At that moment, four resounding roars echoed across the snow…

(The third update is here, brothers! Do you want a fourth or fifth tonight? If you do, let’s break 2,000 members and push the recommendation votes to 600! Enough talk—time to write. Brothers, can we fight this battle together?)