Chapter 6

【】 provides a comfortable and reliable ad-free novel reading website for book lovers.

"What? Five thousand bucks! Andy, you might as well rob us! It's just a kid, do you think he's a war machine?" A hoarse but furious voice pierced through the daze. Allen opened his eyes slightly, seeing a desolate wilderness in the outskirts. Not far away, a campfire was burning, and a black sedan was parked beside it. A man dressed in a fur cloak, looking like a gentleman, was shouting at the leader of the Black Widow gang. In the firelight, Allen could even see the spittle flying from his mouth.

Behind this man were two burly men in black, each carrying a submachine gun, apparently serving as bodyguards.

Allen moved his body, and a sharp pain shot through several parts of his body. His face was pale, but he did not make a sound. The boy's condition was not good; after White Fang was killed, he had been knocked unconscious. Since then, he had been alternating between unconsciousness and consciousness, with the latter being much shorter.

He was now locked in an iron cage, which was very sturdy. At least, a single teenager could not bend the 3-centimeter thick iron bars, especially now that Andy had taken away the Demon's Praise.

At this moment, the dagger was spinning lightly in the leader's hand. Allen truly hoped he would slip and stab himself in the throat.

"Calm down, Mr. Hern." Andy smiled, pointing at Allen. "Yes, he's just a kid. But he meets your requirements, with no record at all. More importantly, he's healthy, and his age and build are similar to your son's. I bet you won't find a better match within a week."

"So you see, five thousand bucks is not expensive. Or do you think your son's life isn't worth this much?" Andy smiled.

Hern snorted, baring his white teeth. "You vampire. Listen, if the deadline wasn't approaching, you wouldn't get this deal. Now, I'm taking him. In three days, come to my company to collect the money, you bastard!"

He pushed Andy aside and walked to the iron cage. Taking out a handkerchief to cover his nose, he turned back and said, "Damn it, you two idiots, get him into the car quickly. Do I have to do it myself?"

The two bodyguards hurried over, lifting the iron cage and Allen together, and carried them toward a four-wheel drive SUV. In the cage, Allen looked at Andy, who waved goodbye with a smile.

"Hey!" Allen called out to him.

Andy shrugged. "What, do you miss me? White Fang kid, although I like you too, now you belong to Mr. Hern... as his property!"

Allen's gaze fell on the dagger in Andy's hand. "Take good care of it. Because I will come back to take it, and when I do, I will slit your throat with it."

Andy was taken aback. Allen's bright red eyes stung him a bit. Then he looked at his two companions and laughed. "I'm waiting for you, kid. If you can crawl back from that place, from that hell."

In the end, Allen and the iron cage were thrown into the SUV. After a bumpy ride, he arrived at a large estate in the countryside. The estate was vast, but the buildings were sparse. There was a main house, a few annexes, a well, and a row of shacks. Allen was thrown into one of the shacks, where coal and firewood were piled up beside him.

In the middle of the night, it started raining. The rainwater spread over the ground, turning the area under Allen's cage into a muddy swamp. The mud and water seeped into his feet, and the cold from the water crept up his body. The cage was only 70 centimeters high, making it impossible for Allen to stand up straight. He could only huddle in the mud for the entire night.

The next noon, a guard brought a basin filled with cold leftovers. This was Allen's only meal for the day, and even the Hern family's wolf dogs were fed better. Allen ate everything in silence, and the guard looked at him with disdain. But when he came back and saw that not a drop of sauce was left in the basin, his expression changed.

Two days later, a car drove into the estate. A boy, about Allen's age, jumped out, plump and wearing a well-tailored suit. Ignoring the protests of the two guards, he ran to the shack and looked at Allen for a while before laughing. "This is the bastard who's replacing me? He doesn't look anything like me."

"Master Bass, the appearance doesn't matter, as long as the age matches. The rest, Mr. Hern will take care of," a guard flattered.

Bass squatted down and made a face at the iron cage. "You're about to die, bastard. But it's an honor to take my place in that place."

He turned to the guard. "I heard he's a wolf child?"

"Yes, Black Widow's leader Andy said he was raised by snow wolves."

"Interesting. Hey, can you bite?"

Bass waved his hand inside the cage. The guard hurriedly said, "Don't do that, Master."

"It's fine, he won't dare..."

Before Bass finished, Allen suddenly lunged forward, grabbing his arm and twisting it, breaking it instantly. Hearing Bass's pig-like screams, Allen said coldly, "I don't bite. I kill!"

"Let go! Let go!"

The guards pushed their guns into the cage, using the butts to knock Allen away, and dragged Bass out. Bass kept shouting, "I'll kill him," but was carried into the main house by the two guards.

A moment later, Hern ran to the shack with a rubber truncheon, furious.

That day, Allen had no food, only a severe beating.

A week after being captured, on a scorching noon, a transport van arrived at the estate. Hern had been notified and was waiting at the gate in the blazing sun. The van stopped, and several people got out. One of them, a fat man, was invited into the house by Hern, while the other two, wearing camouflage uniforms and tactical helmets and carrying assault rifles, were clearly soldiers.

On the chest of the soldiers' camouflage uniforms was an emblem: a musket and a sword crossed, with a black owl-wolf in the center. This was the symbol of the 13th District Ground Defense Force "Owl-Wolf," indicating that these men were from the regular army.

Soon, Hern and the fat man came out. Hern pointed at Allen, and the fat man laughed. Nodding, he called to the two soldiers, "That's Bass, take him. Oh, and give him a number."

He then said to Hern, "Don't worry, the big shots only look at the numbers. They won't bother to check the kid's background."

"Thank you very much," Hern said.

Beside him, Bass, with his arm in a cast, gave Allen the middle finger.

Two burly soldiers walked over, and Allen looked at them coldly. One of them pulled out a strange pistol and said to Allen, "For your own good, stay still."

As he reached for Allen's arm, Allen lunged at his throat. But as soon as he moved, his body trembled, and he fell to the ground. Still conscious, he looked at the other soldier, who was holding a taser. The soldier laughed at his companion, "This kid is quite wild."

"Maybe he has a chance to survive." The soldier pressed the taser against Allen's arm and fired again.

The gun vibrated slightly, and Allen felt a tingling sensation in his arm. When the soldier removed the gun, Allen's arm had a new number: 666!

That day, Allen left the estate. He was lifted out of the cage and thrown into the transport van. Under the watch of two burly and fully armed soldiers, Allen did not dare to make any movements that could be misunderstood. Through the van's window, he saw the vehicle leave the estate, pass through a canyon, and cross a vast primeval forest, arriving at a military camp at the foot of a mountain three days later.

When the soldiers pushed Allen out of the van, the man who had given him the number smiled. "Welcome to hell."

Allen, unwillingly, was pointed at by two rifle muzzles and walked into the camp. He saw several transport vans parked at the camp gate. Inside the camp, there was a simple but spacious square. The ground was muddy, apparently due to recent rain, and every step left a mud print. On the square, dozens of soldiers stood in a line, holding their rifles level. Their gun muzzles were pointed at teenagers similar in age to Allen.

After the soldiers escorted Allen to the group of teenagers, they handed a file to the lead officer. The officer was over two meters tall, with sun-tanned skin that gleamed. Under his tilted beret was a face with a sinister smile. A scar on his face made him look intimidating. This imposing officer, who resembled a gray gorilla, had the rank of a second lieutenant on his shoulder.

He strode forward and looked at the frightened teenagers. "Welcome, you little bastards. I am Lieutenant Ron. Here, I am your God. Whatever I say, you must do, even if it means eating shit. You are lucky bastards because you were randomly selected by the system to represent the 13th District in the new survival game. But you are also unlucky because, in the six-month training that follows, only one of you will walk out of this camp gate."

"You little bastards, you might often complain about living on the hellish surface. But now, I can tell you for sure, your previous life was sweet like heaven. Now, you are truly in hell!"

At the end, Lieutenant Ron's voice was like a summer thunderclap, making the teenagers dizzy and disoriented.