I don't know how far I ran out in one go, but in the end I couldn't hold on, and my lungs couldn't withstand the violent running and almost exploded. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 The info scrivener was spread on the ground, panting heavily, he had been chased and killed by Japanese soldiers for many days, and he had never run so hard.

The scrivener scolded grandma while being wary of the roots on both sides of the mountain wall, but it didn't move. However, he was not at ease, and he did not dare to be careless, and the ghost knew when these things would attack.

After a long while, the roots still did not move. The scrivener regained his strength, stood up and continued to walk forward. Two corpses appeared in quick succession, all Japanese, their bodies tangled in roots like a scarecrow. Equipment bags and sniper rifles are scattered on the ground.

Pick up the sniper rifle in the scrivener, maybe it will be useful. The journey was peaceful, and the roots seemed to be asleep. The crevices in the mountain gradually widen, and the roots became more and more sparse. He breathed a sigh of relief, and seemed to have escaped. Suddenly, his mind flashed, and the reason why the roots no longer entangled him was related to the "medicine" applied to the wound?

The chewed leaves of the plant have a pungent and strange smell, which can not only heal the wounds, but even mosquitoes, snakes and scorpions dare not approach. Indigenous tribes generally use mosquito repellent at night. Could it be that it is also effective in driving away "roots"? The more you think about the scrivener, the more reasonable it becomes, and only in this way can you explain the current situation.

Of course, the reason is not important, the important thing is that he survived. He opened the equipment bag, took out the gauze and bandaged the wound briefly, and continued walking. The roots became more and more sparse and disappeared altogether. The scrivener had a strange idea: the "roots" were not really roots, but they were just extremely similar, and as for its true appearance, it was likely to be an unknown animal. Corals, for example, look like plants, but they are actually animals. Anything is possible in the small world of Savage Mountain.

The cracks in the rock mass came to an end, replaced by a huge karst cave, both more than 10 meters high and wide. The scrivener didn't think much about it, stepped in, and the shade came to the surface, and the visibility dropped sharply. He was about to light a lighter when suddenly there was a faint flash of fire in front of him.

The scrivener box suddenly became alert, and quickly hid behind the rocks to look. There was a firelight to indicate that someone was there, and he finally caught up with the other party's rhythm. He became cautious, moving forward little by little. From time to time, water droplets fall above the head, splashing in the pool, making a tinkling sound, distant and ethereal.

If there is no war here, it must be a fairyland-like world, in which the soul seems to be baptized, and every cell of the body is quiet. Of course, the scrivener will never have a quiet mind, and there is not only fire in front of it, but also gunshots. He was too far away and he would hear it.

The scrivener sped up, saying that it was speeding up, but it was only slightly faster than the original, and it was by no means much faster than a normal walk. The feet were very slippery, the large and small puddles were one after another, and the ground was polished very smooth by water droplets, and I couldn't get up fast if I wanted to.

The fire was looming, and it was not far away, but when I really walked up, I found that the distance was really amazing. It took twenty minutes for the scrivener to really start the fire. With light, the surroundings are visible at a glance. The cave is frighteningly large, with a height and width of ten zhang. Stalactites of different colors are scattered throughout, some hanging from the top of the head, some protruding from the ground. The spectacle is unrealistic, and it is absolutely magical. Growing up in the mountains, I thought I had climbed all kinds of mountains and drilled all kinds of holes. But in this cave, he obeyed, what if he grew up in the mountains, the mountains are different from the mountains!

A palm oil torch was stuck in a crevice in the rock, and the flames danced, whirring black smoke. There is another one 100 meters away, and a third one 200 meters away......

The scrivener frowned, how huge the cave should be!

The gunfire was clear, staccato and uninterrupted, but there was no pause. The scrivener held on to a stalactite and rested for a while, and continued to move forward. He didn't dare to swagger anymore, that would be a bullet. Choose to weave through the stalactites.

After walking out of another 300 meters, the space suddenly opened up, as if entering a large auditorium, and thousands of people did not feel crowded when eating and chatting together. Stalactites and canine teeth intersect to form a stone forest that fills almost the entire space. More than a dozen torches are scattered in the crevices of the rocks, dotting the space with shadows.

The sound of gunfire was unusually real, echoing in the enclosed space.

The scrivener is hidden behind the stalactites to find the source of the gunshot, and there is an open space in the center of the space, where the source is. There are no torches around the clearing, so you can't really see it. Tongues of fire erupted from there, shooting into all corners of the stone forest, and from time to time there were groans, and many natives were shot.

"It's up!" The scrivener hid itself and quietly observed the situation on both sides.

The Japanese soldiers were basically on the defensive, huddled in the open space in the middle of the space, blocking wave after wave of attacks by the natives. The natives were numerous and basically on the offensive, with dozens of natives scattered in all directions, occasionally storming the central areas. However, the scrivener box is not optimistic about the indigenous side, and according to the current situation, it is likely that the Japanese will win in the end.

Although there are only a few Japanese people, they are well-armed, and the new sniper rifles are the most advanced in the world. Quasi-cephalad and long-range, almost no bullets missed, and every bullet was wounded or even killed by an indigenous person. On the other hand, on the indigenous side, although there are many people, the weapons are not good, the broadsword and spear are not used at all, and only the bow and crossbow can threaten the other party. However, the range of the bow and crossbow was limited, and the Japanese had already shot the close crossbowmen, and the distant crossbowmen would inevitably be fired by sniper rifles once they got close.

The natives were helpless for a while, and although they were attacking, it was more like a helpless move. Although the Japanese soldiers have been on the defensive, it is more like defending instead of attacking.

The battle was tepid, and the natives quietly approached the center under the cover of the stone forest. The Japanese soldiers were on standby, but if any natives were exposed during the operation, they would inevitably be shot.

The scrivener watched coldly, he didn't have a good impression of either aspect, and he was happy to sit on the mountain and watch the tiger fight. Of course, he was not idle, carefully observing his surroundings. The natives were scattered in the stone forest, and there could be forty or fifty people. Many of them were painted with colors, their combat effectiveness plummeted, and sixteen or seventeen were lying motionless on the ground, as if they were dead. The Japanese soldiers occupied the central area to the death, relying on the superiority of firepower to defend steadily, and it seemed to be at ease.

"Huh? Something is wrong. The scrivener squinted and fell into contemplation, the Japanese soldiers obviously did not suffer a loss, and it would not be a problem to break through, why did they not have the intention of breaking through?

The indigenous people also have problems, knowing that they are not opponents, they want to sacrifice their lives to rush forward, isn't this looking for death. Of course, the scrivener box will not think that the natives are tired of life, and rush up to find death.

"Unless...... scrivener thought of a possibility, holding his chin with one hand.