He actually dared to shoot!

Seeing this, the men who had accompanied Sun Daqiang also began to jeer, rubbing their hands and rolling up their sleeves in preparation for a fight.

They all knew Sun Daqiang’s fiery temper well; it looked like this punk Lin Yang was doomed today, and even if he escaped with his life, he would certainly be stripped of a layer of skin.

Besides, in these deep mountains and dense forests, a physical altercation was of no consequence.

If they were truly pushed to the limit, even if they were to kill Lin Yang in the mountains, no one would ever find out.

After all, once the scent of blood spread through this remote wilderness, it would inevitably attract wild beasts by nightfall, leaving not even a complete skeleton behind.

Without any evidence, who could possibly say that they had done it?

Therefore, they acted with complete lawlessness, closing in with arrogant expressions, treating Lin Yang as nothing more than fish on their chopping board.

However, in the very next second, the situation underwent a dramatic reversal.

While Sun Daqiang’s hand was still raised in the middle of a swing, his mouth was suddenly blocked by a cold gun barrel.

In an instant, his abusive words were cut short like a thread severed by a sharp blade.

The muzzle was pressed tightly against his mouth, and his hand hung awkwardly in mid-air. His entire body froze as if under a immobilization curse, stiff as a wooden sculpture and trembling slightly.

Lin Yang’s voice was as cold as millennial glacier ice, every single word seemingly laced with icy shards: "Do you really think I've been too polite to you? Have I spoiled you too much?"

Before Sun Daqiang could react or attempt to fight back with the Type 56 semi-automatic rifle in his hand, Lin Yang snatched it away with lightning speed.

"Hmph, trying to fire a shot without even disengaging the safety? If this isn't courting death, what is?"

As he spoke, Lin Yang deftly manipulated the captured firearm, his eyes filled with utter contempt and disdain for Sun Daqiang.

Seeing this, the others turned as pale as paper, their legs growing so weak that they could barely stand.

They knew very well that none of them had guns on hand!

In this era, even purchasing a second-hand break-barrel shotgun would cost at least three hundred yuan.

Moreover, those were often battered and worn out from years of use by other hunters.

As for fine rifles like the Mosin-Nagant, they could not be had for less than six hundred yuan.

As for the Type 56 semi-automatic, that was an even scarcer item, never sold to the public unless acquired through special channels.

Furthermore, every single one bore a serial number, and ordinary people would not dare to use them casually.

After all, carrying too fine a weapon in these deep mountains could easily make one a target for a shot in the dark, bringing about a violent death.

Someone like Sun Daqiang simply did not understand the rules of survival in these mountains, nor did he know what a true hunter was.

As the saying goes: when one harbors a sharp weapon, murderous intent arises of its own accord!

At this moment, murderous intent surged through Lin Yang’s heart like a fierce undercurrent, tempting him to pull the trigger right then and there and send Sun Daqiang to the underworld.

Yet, relying on his formidable willpower, he forcibly suppressed this urge.

Even so, the intense murderous intent in his eyes burned like a raging fire, completely unmasked, as if it intended to consume Sun Daqiang alive.

The reason Sun Daqiang had frozen instantly was precisely because he had caught a glimpse of that terrifying, tangible killing intent in Lin Yang’s eyes.

It sent a sudden jolt through his heart, as if an invisible, giant hand had gripped it tightly.

His mind raced as he desperately tried to recall what on earth he could have done to make Lin Yang hate him to the bone.

That murderous intent was so pure and so intense that, even in the grip of his anger, he sobered up instantly. A wave of unprecedented terror surged within him, and cold sweat poured continuously from his forehead, soaking his collar.

The rest of the men were scared completely dumb.

However, the two hunting dogs were not frightened at all.

Perhaps sensing the danger threatening their master, they went frantic, emitting low growls from deep within their throats, baring their sharp teeth, their fur standing on end as they lunged straight toward Lin Yang like two bolts of black lightning.

Yet, fast as they were, Lin Yang’s movements were even faster.

Earlier, he had already locked onto one of the hunting dogs via the system—specifically that fierce Wolf Green hound.

Seeing the hounds charge, Lin Yang’s gaze sharpened. With lightning-fast reflexes, he delivered a ferocious kick straight into Sun Daqiang’s stomach.

The kick was delivered with full force, doubling Sun Daqiang over like a cooked shrimp as he collapsed to the ground with a muffled grunt of agony.

Immediately afterward, the muzzle in his hand jerked, and with a sharp *bang*, a bullet shot out like a black flash of lightning, precisely piercing the Wolf Green's head.

The bullet tore through the dog's eye and exited from the back of its skull.

In an instant, half of the dog's cranium was blown away, spraying blood and brain matter everywhere, while a pungent smell of blood filled the air.

Without missing a beat, Lin Yang mentally locked onto the large yellow dog and pulled the trigger again without a moment's hesitation.

Bang! Bang!

Two successive gunshots echoed through the silent forest like a thunderclap, ringing so loudly it hurt the eardrums.

Startled by the sudden gunfire, the remaining men felt their legs turn to jelly and collapsed straight to the ground, with only a single thought echoing in their minds:

Lin Yang actually dared to shoot!

The two hunting hounds had charged forward like unbridled beasts, yet before they could even get close to Lin Yang, they were instantly incapacitated by his calm and precise gunfire.

Their bodies shuddered violently before their limbs began to twitch uncontrollably. Weak whimpers escaped their throats as the fierce light in their eyes gradually faded. Staring resentfully at the world one last time, they slowly closed their eyes.

Warm blood gushed from their wounds, spreading across the pristine snow and leaving a striking, crimson stain that marred the immaculate white with mottled patches.

Holding the still-warm Mosin-Nagant, Lin Yang raised his arm once more, firmly pressing the pitch-black muzzle back against Sun Daqiang’s face.