Strongest Soldier King

At noon, the sky suddenly became overcast with dense clouds, and the wind howled, forcing the vast forest trees to sway erratically. Birds flapped around in panic, emitting strange cries, and wild animals ran chaotically. Soon, a clap of thunder resounded in the sky, followed by pouring rain that assaulted the earth, cleansing the forest.

The wind grew stronger, wailing and roaring, its howls resembling ghostly wails and wolf howls. The large trees swayed from side to side, and several birds flew unsteadily with the wind, uncertain of their destination. On a mountainside, a boy dressed in blue clothing, with a worried expression, watched the sudden heavy rain. He adjusted the blue cloth on his head, slung the hunting rifle onto his back, and descended the mountain with a machete in hand.

Such harsh weather wasn't suitable for hunting prey. The boy saw that the rain might last all day, making it dangerous to stay in the forest. He decided to head back first. After descending the slope, there was a river ahead. The boy retrieved a small boat from the dense shrubs, crafted by hollowing out a tree trunk thick enough for an adult to embrace. He planned to cross the river before it swelled, as otherwise, it would be troublesome.

The boy deftly took a paddle from the boat, his expression solemn as he rowed, occasionally looking up at the sky. The torrential rain splattered painfully on his face, and the strong wind made the river crossing significantly more difficult. Seeing that a flash flood was about to erupt, he anxiously paddled across the river.

As the boat reached the river's middle, the boy noticed someone in the water, half-floated on the surface. He was startled and quickly paddled over, lightly tapping the person with the oar. Receiving no response, he estimated that the individual was already dead. Being naturally kind-hearted, the boy contemplated dragging the person to the other bank for burial, hoping to perform an act of kindness and accumulate virtue.

The boy dragged the person onto the boat, which instantly sank a few inches, almost submerging and struggling to move. His expression changed slightly, and with a helpless sigh, he untied his belt, secured one end to the boat, and the other around the person. He then hurriedly paddled forward.

A few minutes later, the boy reached the opposite bank, pulled the boat ashore, and then dragged the person up as well. After unfastening the belt wrap, he hid the boat at a higher place before approaching the person he had salvaged, curiously inspecting them. Seeing the individual appeared soaked too long in the water, but not quite as if deceased, he curiously squatted down to check for breathing.

The wind and rain poured heavily on both of them, and the surrounding was a cacophony. The boy couldn't feel any breath from the other person. Curiously, he rolled the person over and found their chest swollen. Without hesitation, he pressed firmly, and a large amount of water spurted out from the person's mouth. The boy was uncertain whether the individual was dead or not, but he vigorously compressed their chest area using what he thought was best.

After compressing for a while, there was still no response. Seeing that no more water flowed from the person's mouth, the boy was puzzled. He anxiously looked up at the sky, where visibility was extremely low due to the pouring rain. Worrying as he glanced at the person on the ground, he gritted his teeth, hefted the individual onto his shoulder, and slowly moved forward.

Life was tough for mountain dwellers, managing the household from a young age, possessing considerable strength, and traversing mountain paths with ease. Although carrying a person was heavy, it didn't hinder his walking. The boy walked and paused intermittently, stopping to rest when exceedingly tired. After about half an hour, several stout men approached, all carrying hunting rifles, wearing blue clothes, and sporting blue headbands.

The boy shouted affectionately, "Daddy, Uncle, how did you get here? I saw someone across the river, seems like they're dead, come take a look."

The group of men quickly approached. The boy placed the person down, and everyone inspected them. One of the men opened the individual's eyelids and exclaimed, "This person's heartbeat seems to have stopped, yet the pupils aren't dilated; they should still be alive, in a deep coma. It's what the old folks call a faux death, quick, bring them back, they might still be saved."

"You little rascal are getting bolder, sneaking out to hunt without telling me? Considering you saved someone, I'll let you off this time, but don't let it happen again. Damn this torrential rain," a middle-aged man chided, hitting the boy on the head but with a touch of fondness.

The boy chuckled and said, "Helping people and doing good, those are the rules passed down by the elders, I remember them."

A sturdy man carried the person on his back, hastily retracing their path, and soon disappeared into the rainstorm.

About half an hour later, an armed group appeared, continuously examining surrounding traces as if searching for something. The leader observed the rolling river, with floodwaters rushing into it, raising water levels significantly, and their expression grew grim. One person approached and said, "We've searched over twenty kilometers. Even if he's not dead, he'd have drowned by now."

"Not seeing the body doesn't set my mind at ease. Haven't you seen Wolf King's determination?" the leader retorted.

"But searching like this endlessly isn't going anywhere. The rain is too heavy, there are no traces on the ground. We've searched both riverbanks up to here without finding anything, and no one saw anyone surface. The person likely ended up in a fish's belly. I've heard there's a kind of fish in these waters that eat people," the other replied with a helpless smile.

"Don't try to evade me; there are traces of someone having been here. Look, it's more than one footprint," the leader scolded.

"It should be hunters. About thirty kilometers from here, there's an isolated indigenous tribe. They're benevolent yet hate evil, with fiery dispositions, quick to draw blades, not to be trifled with. Their hunting grounds extend over a hundred kilometers around. If they knew we were here, it'd surely lead to a clash; it's best to leave," the other quickly explained, gesturing ahead, fear flickering in their eyes.

"Such cowardice!" the leader rebuked, irritated, "Are we, so many, afraid of hunters?"

"It's not fear, just avoiding unnecessary issues. They have thousands in their tribe, nearly a thousand sturdy men and women who all hunt and use firearms. They're very familiar with the surrounding terrain, skilled in jungle hunting, and no amateurs. We can't afford losses," the other quickly clarified.

The leader's eyes sharpened, and they fell silent for a while before barking, "How should we report back then?"

"Tell the truth. With such a huge flood, so many gunshots, and having searched this far, even a Daluo Golden Immortal couldn't survive. I reckon it's most likely they've become fish feed," the other quickly said.

"You do make sense. Wolf King may be young but extraordinarily wise. Let's report honestly; Wolf King will make his own judgment. Let's go, tell the brothers to retreat," the leader commanded, their voice rising above the rain, reaching everyone's ears. Already impatient, the others turned and left.

The leader didn't leave immediately, staring towards the deep mountains, a strange feeling welling up. It seemed the person they were searching for wasn't dead. But amidst the vast mountains and pouring rain, without any traces, where to look? Any further search would likely draw discontent from the subordinates.

With these thoughts, the leader sighed helplessly, turned, caught up with the squadron, and withdrew.