Immediately after, Lin Ming shot down from the ridge, a blur of motion descending upon the four Madakaros soldiers who were still caught in a fit of uncontrollable sneezing.
They never even had time to react.
Lin Ming appeared behind one of the aliens just as it let out a massive sneeze, simultaneously pointing and laughing at another soldier who had just done the same.
A clean, decisive slash. The combat knife slid across the Madakaros's throat. Five seconds ago, what sprayed in their faces was snot.
But now, it was his comrade's blood, jetting from a severed artery, painting the remaining three in a warm, crimson mist.
"What the hell, an ambush—" another soldier started to scream
The jungle air, thick with the scent of alien decay and damp earth, was suddenly punctuated by a sharp, wet snap.
It was the sound of a Madakaros neck breaking.
Lin Ming followed through with his kick, his boot connecting with the second guard's head. The skull imploded with a sickening crunch, silencing the alien's warning cry before it could even fully form. He didn't pause. His combat knife, a blur of dark metal, flashed in the dim light, embedding itself deep in the throat of the third guard.
The entire sequence was a testament to brutal, beautiful efficiency. Three threats, all solid Foundation Establishment cultivators, neutralized in the space of two heartbeats. For a warrior at the absolute peak of the same realm, like Lin Ming, these standard-issue soldiers were nothing more than practice dummies.
The final soldier, the one named Zylak, watched it all happen. His mind simply… broke. The complex tactical training, the years of military discipline, the innate arrogance of his race—all of it evaporated in a wave of pure, primal terror. His rifle slipped from his numb fingers. His legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees in the mud, his entire body shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Sir! Sir, please, spare me! I'm just a grunt, a nobody! I was just following orders!" he stammered, his voice a high-pitched squeak. Though his skin was naturally grey, it had somehow managed to pale to the color of old ash. "Spare my life, and I'll be your horse, your ox! I'll polish your boots! I'll even do your taxes! Just please, don't kill me!"
This was perfect. This was exactly what Lin Ming wanted.
He didn't attack. He simply stood over the pathetic creature, the blood of Zylak's comrades dripping slowly from his knife. He let the silence stretch, letting the alien stew in his own fear.
Pham Tuan finally crashed through the undergrowth, panting heavily. He took in the scene—three fresh corpses and one prostrating alien. "Boss... you move too fast. I feel like I'm just here for cardio." He looked at the trembling Zylak. "But at least you left one for me. A chance to contribute."
"Haha," Lin Ming chuckled, the sound startlingly light in the grim setting. "Who told you I was leaving him for you to kill?" He gestured towards Zylak. "Can't you see? He's as obedient as a puppy now. This is the perfect time to get some information."
Quynh Nhu dropped from the trees, landing without a sound. She surveyed the carnage with a professional eye. "I'll admit," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice, "your methods are direct. And extremely efficient."
Lin Ming wiped his blade clean on a broad leaf, then turned his attention back to Zylak. A smile spread across his face, a friendly, disarming expression that was completely at odds with the massacre he had just committed.
"I can spare your life," he said, his voice soft. "But you will answer every question I ask. If I even suspect you're lying…" He let the sentence hang, the threat more potent for being unspoken.
The Madakaros nodded so furiously his head looked like it was about to spin off his neck and fly into the jungle.
"Name?"
"Zylak, sir! Zylak the Mildly Competent!"
"Right," Lin Ming said, ignoring the self-appointed title. "Tell me everything you know about your operational base here. And don't leave out the boring parts. I like the boring parts."
Zylak, eager to please and desperate to live, spilled everything. He talked about the phase-energy cannons on the main gate, the ten-man elite squad (all mid-to-late stage Foundation Establishment), their abysmal card-playing skills, and their leader's unfortunate habit of cheating. He gave them the exact timing of the shift change.
And then he mentioned the pet.
"...and you have to watch out for Gary. Gary the Gnasher," he whispered, as if speaking of a dark god.
"Gary?" Lin Ming prompted, leaning in.
"He's a three-headed space badger," Zylak explained. "Inquisitor Vex's prized possession. He guards the main gate. He's usually pretty chill, but he has a terrible gambling addiction and gets really, really cranky if anyone touches his food bowl."
Quynh Nhu's voice crackled over the private comms link. "A gambling-addicted space badger. I am not making that up. Minerva, are you getting this?"
Minerva's drone whirred. "Data recorded. Cross-referencing 'space badger' with known xenobiological threats. No matches found. This creature appears to be a unique form of nightmare fuel."
Lin Ming continued the interrogation. "Where does Vex spend his time?"
"The Chamber of Echoes!" Zylak blurted out. "It's his private sanctuary, deep inside the mountain. He meditates there every day. Listens to the 'whispers of the stone,' he calls it. He's been preparing for the Great Alignment for weeks. Says the mountain will sing to him when the time is right."
"The Great Alignment," Lin Ming repeated, his voice turning cold. "What happens then?"
"He's going to... give a big hug," Zylak stammered, his eyes darting around nervously. "A soul hug. To all the prisoners."
Lin Ming's friendly smile finally vanished. "How many prisoners, Zylak?"
The alien hesitated, his instinct for self-preservation warring with the ingrained fear of his commander.
"How. Many?" Lin Ming repeated, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The sheer weight of his presence was suffocating.
"Fifty... fifty thousand!" Zylak finally choked out, tears welling in his three eyes. "He's going to sacrifice them all to forge a Soul Stone! He's been stuck at Peak Golden Core for three hundred years! He's impatient! He's in a very, very bad mood!"
The number settled over the team like a physical shroud. Fifty thousand lives.
Lin Ming asked a few more questions, confirming details about the base's logistics. The most important piece of information: an unmanned supply truck, loaded with food, was dispatched from a depot every two hours. Its route was automated, its destination, the main barracks.
The questioning was over.
Lin Ming stood up. He looked down at Zylak, who was staring up at him with a pathetic, hopeful expression.
With a single, fluid motion, Lin Ming raised his knife and plunged it deep into Zylak's throat.
The gurgling sound was brief and tragic.
"You... you... broke your word..." Zylak managed to choke out, blood frothing from his lips as he collapsed.
Lin Ming sneered, wiping his blade clean on the dead alien's uniform. "Between humanity and you dogs," he said to the corpse, "what need is there for honor?"
The air in the clearing was now incredibly heavy. The mission had changed. This wasn't just about saving lives anymore. This was about vengeance.
"We have to infiltrate immediately," Lin Ming said, his voice a low growl. "I will not let this 'Great Extermination' happen." He rubbed his temples, his mind already piecing together a new, audacious plan.
"Alright, here's the new plan. Nhu and Tuan, you will wait here for my signal. I will infiltrate the supply truck that's scheduled to arrive in the next two hours."
"You're going in alone?" Quynh Nhu demanded, stepping forward. "To do what? Steal their potatoes?"
A cunning, almost wicked smile spread across Lin Ming's face. It was a terrifying sight.
"No," he said. "I'm going to make a delivery." He paused for dramatic effect. "I'm going to put a massive dose of industrial-grade, fast-acting laxatives into their entire food supply."
Pham Tuan and Quynh Nhu stared at him, their brains trying to process the sheer, unadulterated genius and absurdity of the plan.
"Just imagine it," Lin Ming continued, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee. "An entire fortress of elite Madakaros soldiers, right before a major battle, suddenly afflicted with a biblical case of explosive diarrhea. They won't be able to fight. They won't even be able to stand up straight."
He looked at his stunned teammates.
"After one meal, when the entire base is... indisposed... that will be my signal. And that's when we'll launch our all-out attack, walk right through the front gate, and kill a very surprised, and possibly very constipated, Inquisitor Vex."