They entered the mountain with torches high and confidence higher. The sun hadn't even risen over the trees when Sun Longzi, Zhu Deming, and fifty of their handpicked men from the Red Demon Army's elite entered the mountain. They didn't bother with armor; each one only carried a sword and a knife, and that was all. If the villagers didn't need reinforced shields or hardened steel armor, then neither did they.
Their arrogance didn't last long. They didn't make it even five steps into the trees before the first scream came.
A young soldier dropped to the ground, his legs sheared clean off at the knee. Blood spurted like a fountain as he writhed on the earth, the severed razor wire glittering beside him like a snake basking in the sun.
No birds stirred. No wind blew.
The forest was quiet.
Sun Longzi didn't flinch. "Trap line. Stay sharp," he instructed, his eyes constantly scanning the area around them for the next trap. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't see any.
