The next moment.

A humanoid light source, glowing red and yellow, appeared on the screen, along with a series of heat-signature footprints.

"Damn it, someone’s approaching!" Beard shouted in a low voice. The other two instinctively grabbed their guns, dropped to the ground, and crawled behind the snowmobile.

"Parker, you piece of shit! Get down, you fucking idiot!" Red Hat Gordon poked his head out and yelled at his cousin, who was still sitting where he was. Then he looked at Beard. "Abbot, how many of them are there? How far away?"

Beard lay on the snow, cautiously raising the thermal imager and scanning 360 degrees. His voice was tense. "310 meters... six people. At our three, six, eight, ten, and twelve o’clock. Fack, we’re surrounded!"

"Fack." Red Hat Gordon shot to his feet and struggled to drag a sled. He spared a moment to look at his companions lying in the snow and cursed, "Shit, hurry the hell up and help me! Set up a defensive cover! You waiting to get shot to death?"

Hearing this, the other two quickly got up. They dragged the sleds, which were loaded with their haul, to form a barrier in front and behind them. Then, they blocked the ends with the snowmobile and their bags. Finally, they threw a tent over the top, creating a semi-enclosed defensive shelter. Once all this was done...

Hiding in the shelter, Red Hat Gordon shouted at Beard, who was still scouting, "Abbot, put out the fire and get back here!"

With that, he raised his hunting rifle to the sky and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The gunshot echoed across the open Tundra.

"Careful!" Feng Mountain had just taken a step when Nash pushed him down into the snow.

"Anyone hit? Is anyone hit?" Yves’s anxious voice came over the radio.

"Clear!" Gunpowder.

"Clear!" Bat.

"Clear!" Scar.

"Cl... Ptooey, ptooey... Clear," Feng Mountain spat out a mouthful of snow. Holding his radio, he looked toward the poachers’ temporary camp a few hundred meters away. "What’s going on? Did they spot us? How can they see us from this far away?"

"They must have equipment like thermal imagers or night-vision goggles. These poachers really spared no expense," Yves said over the radio. "Don’t move yet. They’re in the dark, we’re in the open. Fall back a little. Don’t turn and run, just move backward slowly. Look for cover. They can see our every move."

The words were barely out of his mouth.

BANG!

Another shot rang out.

Immediately after, Gunpowder’s voice came over the radio. "Captain, the bullet landed three meters from me. They definitely have night-vision gear."

"Fall back! Fall back now! Get out of here!" Yves urged, his voice agitated.

That shot was just them zeroing in on their positions. Once they had them locked down, the bullets would get more and more accurate.

The six from Crown Ridge practically tumbled and scrambled backward until they were 500 meters away, where they found a slope to hide behind.

It wasn’t that their side wasn’t brave enough; the enemy’s equipment was just too good.

They could spot them from 300 meters away in the dead of night. How were they supposed to fight that?

Feng Mountain angrily lowered the MG42 he was cradling.

Yves found some firewood and lit it. "We left in a hurry and didn’t bring a tent. Let’s warm up first. They won’t dare to run, either."

To avoid alerting the enemy, they had left their snowmobiles a kilometer away and surrounded the poachers on foot. Coupled with the cold sweat from their recent scare, everyone shivered involuntarily as the cold wind blew past.

The men quickly gathered around the bonfire, holding out their hands for warmth.

The dancing flames cast a warm glow, driving away the chill from their bodies.

"What now? We can’t just wait here all night." Feng Mountain felt the heat from the fire and pulled out the thermometer on his multi-tool army knife.

The temperature was currently -35 degrees. By midnight, it could drop another 10 degrees. They had no proper cold-weather gear to spend a night in an environment that was over 40 degrees below zero.

’What’s the difference between that and suicide?’

’We’d freeze solid.’

Yves looked at the three retired veterans and thought for a moment. "The only option now is a direct assault. They only have hunting rifles, while we have automatic rifles. We have the advantage in firepower."

’Firepower advantage?’

’That’s right, I’m carrying a real beast.’

Feng Mountain looked down at the MG42 in his arms. "Nash, how much ammo did you bring?"

"Ten belts, 500 rounds," Nash said, setting down the ammo box he was carrying.

Holy cow!

Yves and the others looked at Nash, their hair standing on end.

With that much ammunition, you could do more than just catch poachers; you could rob a bank.

"That’s enough!" A fierce glint appeared in Feng Mountain’s eyes. Cradling the MG42, he said, "I’ll provide suppressing fire later. You guys just charge."

Yves and the others nodded. As retired veterans who had been in wars, they knew the benefits of suppressing fire. With the MG42’s rate of fire at 1,200 rounds per minute, suppressing a few bolt-action hunting rifles would be a piece of cake, especially with 7.92mm rounds.

"Weapon check. We move in ten minutes." Yves glanced at his watch, setting the time for the operation.

The others took out their own weapons to check them, preventing any malfunctions due to the low temperature during the fight.

Feng Mountain also opened the MG42’s receiver cover, took an ammo belt from Nash, and fed it into the feed port.

「At the poachers’ camp.」

Because Beard had extinguished the bonfire, the four men were shivering from the cold inside their makeshift shelter.

In the darkness, they huddled tightly together, trying to draw some warmth from each other.

The wind howled around the shelter, as if mocking their miserable state.

"Abbot, see where they are," the Red Hat Man said, gripping his hunting rifle tightly. He peered out through a gap; without the light of the fire, everything was pitch black.

Beard picked up the infrared thermal imager. He moved cautiously, afraid of making the slightest sound, and gently pushed aside the snowmobile blocking the side, pointing the lens outside.

The other poachers watched Beard nervously, hoping he would find some useful information.

The screen of the thermal imager was completely black, showing no heat signals whatsoever.

A sense of unease washed over Beard.

He frowned, trying to adjust the angle of the imager, searching for any clue.

But no matter how hard he tried, no sign of any heat source appeared on the screen.

"I can’t see them. They must be hiding."

"Then let’s run! We’re dead if we get caught!" Parker was frantic with fear. You need to be alive to spend the money you earn. Trespassing on private land was already a serious crime, and on top of that, they were poaching. If they were caught, the other party could kill them and likely face no legal consequences.

SMACK!!

The Red Hat Man slapped Parker across the face, then grabbed him by the collar.

"Idiot! If you weren’t my cousin, I’d kill you right now! You tell me, where are we supposed to run? Do the snowmobiles not need fuel? In this weather, running is a death sentence."

Having been slapped, Parker’s body trembled with fear. Tears streamed from his eyes, freezing into ice crystals on his face the next second.

The other poachers remained silent. They knew the Red Hat Man was right.

In this harsh weather, escaping was nearly impossible.

A vicious expression appeared on the Red Hat Man’s face as he looked in the direction where Feng Mountain’s group had disappeared. "All we can do now is wait. Wait until 10 a.m. tomorrow. I’ve arranged for a plane to pick us up at the Colville River. I don’t believe you can outlast us in the cold out here in the wild."

"Abbot, how many spare batteries for the thermal imager do we have left?"

"Five. I’m using it on low-power mode. It’s enough to last until tomorrow," Beard said with a grin.

"That’s enough! Keep the device on. We’ll take two-hour shifts in pairs. Let’s see who can outlast who."

If it were purely a contest of enduring the cold, Feng Mountain’s group of six would definitely not be able to outlast the four professional poachers.

After all, the poachers had been operating in harsh environments for a long time and had a much better tolerance for the cold.

However, this wasn’t a cold-endurance competition.

And Feng Mountain wasn’t about to give them that chance.

Ten minutes passed. Yves led the three veterans from the side of the slope, advancing toward the poachers’ camp with their bodies stooped low.

In the dark polar night, they moved forward silently, like ghosts.

Feng Mountain followed behind, carrying the MG42.

The MG42 is a general-purpose machine gun with the characteristics of both a light and heavy machine gun. When used as a light machine gun, its effective range is about 800 meters. When used as a heavy machine gun, its effective range can reach 1,000 meters.

Given its firing range, Feng Mountain could have just stayed behind and set up the gun without following Yves’s group.

But Yves’s group didn’t have thermal imaging; they only knew the general direction of the poachers’ camp. They had to get closer and use tracer rounds to indicate the target’s direction and position for the MG42.

BANG! BANG!!

Two consecutive gunshots shattered the silence of the polar night, echoing across the open Tundra.

...