A sudden gunshot startled Gao Yang, and before he could even open his mouth to cry out for help, a barrage of gunfire followed quickly.
Hearing the gunfire crackle like exploding beans, Gao Yang sharply turned his head and saw, about five or six hundred meters away, two groups of people exchanging fire. Although the distance was somewhat far, making it hard to see clearly, Gao Yang was certain that this was not hunting; it was gunfire exchange, this was war.
Gao Yang's heart sank, and without a second thought, he immediately lay prone in the grass. Although the distance was still far, Gao Yang neither wanted to be hit by a stray bullet nor discovered by either party of the conflict. Who knows who was fighting; it was best to stay hidden.
All he could hear were the intense gunshots, and his vision was blocked by the tall grass, but Gao Yang had no intention of standing up to see exactly what was happening. He only prayed that no one had seen him.
The battle had started very abruptly, but the gunfire quickly thinned out, though it did not stop entirely. Gao Yang was shocked to realize that the sounds of gunfire were getting closer to him.
The gunshots rang out intermittently, approaching him rapidly.
Gao Yang cursed silently. Under the intense secretion of adrenaline, he felt his mouth dry, his body hair stand on end, and his hands trembled uncontrollably.
Forcing himself to calm down, he drew the hunting knife from his waist. After taking a few deep breaths, he cautiously lifted his head to scout the surroundings.
Two black men in camouflage uniforms were running toward the place where Gao Yang was hiding, one after the other. Behind them, seven or eight people were in pursuit, firing continuously at the fleeing men. Soon, the one at the back was struck in the chest by a bullet, and after a burst of blood, he collapsed to the ground.
The remaining black man continued to run toward Gao Yang. Damn it, the man was running faster than a rabbit. There had been several hundred meters between them initially, and in less than a minute since the gunfire started, he was now less than fifty meters from Gao Yang. As the man sprinted for his life, that distance was rapidly closing.
The fleeing black man occasionally fired backward in hopes of slowing his pursuers. However, during one such attempt, his gun clicked empty; he had run out of ammunition. Then a bullet struck his head with precision, and with a dull "thud," his brains scattered into the air.
Gao Yang lay on the ground, not needing to lift his head to see everything, because if the man hadn't died, just two more steps would have brought him right on top of Gao Yang.
After the last fleeing man fell, cheers erupted, but at that moment, Gao Yang only felt like crying. He regretted not running away at the beginning. Had he run right from the start, he might not have drawn the attention of the combatants, but now it was too late to run.
The cheering quickly stopped, and then a voice resounded.
"Yiga, go check it out; everyone else, clean up the battlefield. We need to leave quickly."
The speaker used English, and though the accent was strange, Gao Yang understood without any problems.
The sound of footsteps grew nearer. Looking at the body almost within arm's reach, Gao Yang knew he could hide no longer. After hesitating for a moment, he decided it would be better to take the initiative.
To avoid any misunderstanding, Gao Yang first sheathed the hunting knife at his lower back, then lay on the ground and shouted in English, "Don't shoot, I am from Huaxia, I'm unarmed, I'm no threat, I am a survivor of a crash. Please understand, I am from Huaxia, I am a crash survivor, I pose no threat."
"Who's there, come out, raise your hands and come out."
The other party didn't immediately fire, which eased Gao Yang's anxiety slightly.
"I'm coming out, please don't shoot, I'm sorry, I'm injured, it's serious, my movement will be slow, please don't shoot."
As he spoke, Gao Yang slowly stood up, and then raising his hands, he stood still. Now, he saw that the nearest black man, about seven or eight meters away, with six others scattered around a hundred meters away, all pointing their guns at him.
The closest black man, upon seeing Gao Yang's face, seemed to believe that he was no danger, with a considerably more relaxed look on his face. Then from a distance, someone shouted, "Yiga, who is it?"
The one called Yiga was brandishing a rusty ak47, wearing a worn-out camouflage uniform, and was inexplicably sporting flip-flops. He didn't look like a member of any regular army.
The black man named Yiga aimed the gun at Gao Yang, hurried to the front of him, took a careful look, slightly tilted his head, and shouted to the people behind him, "It's a yellow-skinned guy, he says he's from Huaxia, and he doesn't have a gun on him."
Gao Yang raised his hands high, and although extremely nervous, still managed to force a smile and said loudly, "Sir, I survived a plane crash, I'm the only one who made it, if you and your friends can help me, I will do everything in my power to repay you, please don't kill me, I will give you lots of money, saving me is more beneficial for you."
As he spoke, Gao Yang kept his eyes fixed on the gun in Yiga's hand. He was almost face to face with Yiga, the muzzle of the gun within arm's reach from his head, Gao Yang feared that the man called Yiga would pull the trigger while he was talking.
After Gao Yang finished speaking, he received no response from Yiga but heard from the people farther away from him a word he desperately didn't want to hear, "Kill him!"
Gao Yang's heart sank, but Yiga did not pull the trigger right away. Instead, he twisted his head back and shouted, "He says he can give us a lot of money."
"Idiot, kill him!"
After hearing "Kill him!" for the second time, Gao Yang no longer hesitated. Taking advantage of the fact that Yiga had not turned around, with a swift move of his left hand, Gao Yang grabbed the muzzle of the gun in front of him, lifted it upwards, and at the same time pulled out a hunting knife from his waist with his right hand. Then he lunged forward violently, tackling Yiga down to the ground.
As he pinned Yiga down, Gao Yang had already drawn his hunting knife. Reacting out of instinct, Yiga pulled the trigger, and the rapid gunfire sounded by Gao Yang's ear. Since the gun had just been fired, the barrel that Gao Yang was holding was very hot, and after Yiga fired the bullet, the muzzle became even hotter. Gao Yang endured the pain and refused to let go, struggling to prevent the muzzle from pointing at himself, then he plunged the knife from Yiga's abdomen at an angle upward, stabbing fiercely.
After he plunged the hunting knife in all the way, Gao Yang tilted his body, pulled out the knife, and stabbed upward again with great force. This stab went from the abdomen straight to the heart. After twitching once, Yiga finally stopped moving.
It all sounds slow, but everything happened very fast. From the moment Gao Yang took action to the end, only two to three seconds had passed, and by this time, the people who were farther from Gao Yang had just begun to react.
After seizing the AK47 in his hand, Gao Yang took a deep breath, then kneeled on one knee, aimed quickly after raising the gun, and "Bang" "Bang," he fired two shots.
With the sound of gunfire, two figures dropped to the ground, Gao Yang had fired two shots, and two people fell, both shot in the chest and killed instantly.
After firing two quick shots, Gao Yang immediately rolled to the ground, not forgetting to pull out his hunting knife from Yiga's body before crawling swiftly to one side. Just after he got away quickly, bullets landed where he had just fired, sending grass flying.
Gao Yang's sharp gunmanship had shocked his enemies. Though they fired fiercely, no one dared to rush over. Gao Yang himself was also surprised by his accuracy, not having expected that after many years, his marksmanship would still be this precise.
After crawling out about ten or so meters, the gunfire ceased. Gao Yang dared not crawl any further, stopped, and slowly propped himself up to take a peek. He saw the remaining four opponents were now crouching down, slowly inching closer to him.
After taking a deep breath again, Gao Yang quickly got up on one knee, and after "Bang" "Bang," two gunshots, another one of the opponents fell to the ground.
This time, the opponent was prepared, exposing very little. Gao Yang fired two shots but only hit one enemy.
Killing someone and seizing their gun, then firing quickly, was not something Gao Yang had planned from the start. He had still hoped that the opponents would spare him, even offer him help, until someone from the other side repeatedly ordered to kill him twice. That's when Gao Yang acted with a do-or-die attitude. It was entirely unexpected that he would succeed, everything just happened, but the second time he fired, it was a conscious choice by Gao Yang, yet the effect was somewhat worse.
After the shots revealed his position, Gao Yang once again lay on the ground and then crawled rapidly, ignoring the "ch-ch" sounds of bullets burrowing into the earth around him, focusing solely on moving forward.
When the gunfire stopped again, Gao Yang ceased crawling, carefully lifted his head to observe, but this time he couldn't find any trace of his opponents. The tall and dense grass provided excellent cover for both sides. As long as one lay down, it was difficult to spot each other.
After catching his breath, Gao Yang proceeded to crawl forward slowly. His right knee was in terrible pain, and his left hand was swollen from being burned by the gun barrel. Gao Yang could only grit his teeth and persevere, moving carefully and slowly.
The plain was silent, not at all resembling a place where a life-and-death struggle was taking place. After crawling out a few dozen meters, Gao Yang stopped and observed again, only to spot a black man showing just a bit of his forehead and looking around in his direction, appearing not to have discovered him yet.
The distance between them was approximately seventy to eighty meters, and the opponent didn't dare to approach quickly. This gave Gao Yang a bit of relief; at last, he had time to check how many bullets he had left.