Chapter 585

Chapter 585: Nightmare

Opening her eyes from a foggy daze, a cacophony of sounds rushed into her ears.

It felt like a nightmare, and 17-year-old Miao Huayi only wished this was really just a dream.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, seeing the dark, shabby tent and the faint sounds of breathing nearby. There were seven other girls of similar age in the tent.

Tears welled up in her eyes again; this wasn’t a dream.

This was not the warm bed at home, only coldness, fear, and hunger.

Those guys, to prevent her from escaping, deliberately gave only a little food and water, barely enough to survive, but no extra strength to take flight.

According to their words, it was to ensure the perfect quality of the "goods," they even spared the shackles. Right now, even if they let her go, she probably couldn’t escape even 500 meters.

Since that evening study session when she returned home from school, Miao Huayi had fallen into this nightmare, powerless like a piece of merchandise, sealed in a container with ventilation holes, driven by car or boat, traveling thousands of miles to this place.

Although they were no longer imprisoned like animals in boxes, under the watchful eyes of fierce armed personnel, they could only sit quietly in the enclosed cargo compartment of a truck, accompanied by darkness and unpleasant odors, only able to get off when resting or, as now, asleep in the tent beside the truck. But once dawn broke, they were quickly rushed back onto the truck, unable to step more than ten meters away.

Miao Huayi dared not resist; these people were outlaws. A Russian woman who had also been captured once tried to escape but was ultimately caught again.

The fate of that woman was too horrifying for her to recall. She only remembered the woman’s screams growing weaker throughout the night, accompanied by the beast-like grunts of men. After the gunfire at dawn, she and the other girls never saw that poor girl again.

This was merely a case of killing the chicken to warn the monkeys, but it was enough to intimidate the remaining eight girls.

The journey seemed endless, and Miao Huayi no longer knew where she was. School, classmates, family, friends seemed to have been violently taken away from her life, and she feared she would never see them again.

A tear rolled down her face, stained with grease and dust, as a soft sound of weeping rose in the tent.

This was not Miao Huayi’s voice; it belonged to the daughter of a coal boss from Shanxi, just a month younger than her.

Once a proud little princess, after enduring the journey’s hardships, she finally recognized reality and became the helpless girl Pan Yun, no longer possessing her pride. The bandits weren’t even interested in ransom; after training, she would fetch a much higher price, making it far safer than trying to exchange for a ransom.

“Shh, don’t cry!” As the older girl by just a month, Miao Huayi gently pulled Pan Yun closer, who tightly grasped her arm, seeking some sense of security.

“Sister, I want to go home! I want to eat cake, I want to drink cola. Dad, Mom, I won’t be willful anymore; I will definitely be obedient.”

Pan Yun sobbed and whimpered, like a little kitten, her voice trembling.

Now, this was just a wishful thought.

In the corner, three pairs of bright eyes opened. Different from the black pupils of the Chinese girls, they belonged to three Russian girls. Because of Pan Yun’s cries, the other girls in the tent gradually woke from their slumber, quietly watching the weeping girl.

The tent was very quiet; even though they couldn’t communicate verbally, they had long grown familiar with each other, knowing they could only share a bit of comfort.

“Don’t worry! We’ll be home soon.”

Miao Huayi forced a smile, trying to reassure the girl just a month younger than her. Home? She probably would never return home. After this long journey, she occasionally heard voices from outside the truck, and she nearly confirmed that she was completely in a foreign land, far more than ten thousand miles from home.

The destination? No one knew.

As the daughter of a little city dweller from Shanghai, the farthest she had ever traveled was Nanjing in Jiangsu. Little did she imagine that one day she would be sold to a foreign country. She had no plans and could only numb herself sitting in the truck, getting farther and farther away.

“She feels a bit warm!”

A soft hand gently brushed against Pan Yun’s forehead. It belonged to another captured girl, 18-year-old He Xiangling, the only daughter of the village’s health station doctor. With seven siblings, only she stood out with delicate beauty and inherited her grandfather’s traditional Chinese medicine practice.

Miao Huayi’s heart tightened. In this exhausting long trek, with the armed personnel’s attitudes outside, it was likely that misfortune awaited them. They wouldn’t have much patience to care for a sick person.

“Is there any water?”

He Xiangling could think of nothing else at that moment. They were poor captives, not guests, and could expect no good treatment.

The other girls shook their heads. The little bit of drinking water they received daily was barely enough to wash their faces; it was only enough to moisten their throats and prevent their voices from getting ruined so they could still be sold.

“Water!” He Xiangling tried using the English words she could say, hoping the three Russian girls would understand her.

After a moment of hesitation, a frail Russian girl pulled a plastic water bottle from behind her and silently handed it to her, there was only a small amount left in it, perhaps saved for her own lips.

“Thank you!” He Xiangling said to the Russian girl in both Chinese and English.

The girl seemed to lack energy, managing a faint smile as she placed the water bottle into He Xiangling’s hands.

Just as He Xiangling was about to dab some of the little water on Pan Yun’s forehead, who had been mumbling nonsense, heavy footsteps suddenly echoed from outside the tent.

The tent flap was violently pulled aside, revealing a large face covered in excess flesh, with a gun barrel visible behind. Upon seeing that the little girls inside were awake, he flashed a scary grin, showing his yellow teeth.

“Hey, girls, the sun will rise soon. Are you all awake? If not, this kind-hearted man will wake you up! Hahaha.”

His Chinese was very rough but fairly fluent, and then he repeated it in Russian.

His name was Yefim, derived from Hebrew, meaning "a kind heart," but this so-called kind-hearted man was in charge of watching over these weak girls. His favorite thing to do was aim his gun at the girls’ necks and fire at distant targets.

Especially with an AK-47 fitted with a muzzle brake to reduce recoil, the gunfire would be particularly loud and terrifying.

The fierce flames and huge sounds of the gun were often enough to frighten the girls into pale-faced screams, eyes shut tight in terror, as if the bullet could veer off at any moment and obliterate their heads.

These little princesses, used to comfortable lives, had never seen such a thing, and their timid reactions brought Yefim great delight.

With his rude laughter and the girls’ screams mingling with the gunfire, every poor girl who saw him for the first time would deeply remember this pervert.

This was also the lethal weapon this self-proclaimed "kind hearted" man used to intimidate every new girl.

“Hehe, tender little lambs.” Yefim chuckled a few times, leering at each poorly dressed girl’s body. However, Captain Heim had strict orders—anyone who dared to touch these virgins would be hanged from a tree for target practice.

This was no joke; a few bold scoundrels had indeed been hanged from trees and shot to pieces.

Everyone on this team was an outlaw with blood on their hands and had no regard for human life.

If it weren’t for the bloody methods employed by several mid-level leaders to suppress them, these armed men would likely have turned on each other, resulting in several deaths.

These dangerous men were filled with a murderous aura.

Even at night, everyone had to ensure their guns were unloaded and never slept close together, afraid that someone having a nightmare might accidentally shoot a comrade.

He casually tossed a few bottles of water and some dry bread into the tent, then began preparing to drive the girls out to pack up the tent. This kind of outdoor camping tent was light, weighing less than five kilograms, and it only took a minute to set up or take down.

"Uh!"

A muffled sound came from nearby.

Yefim abruptly stopped what he was doing, quickly drew his AK-47 into his hands, and crouched beside the truck, carefully looking around.

This was the dark hour just before dawn; in a few minutes, red clouds would appear on the horizon, and dawn would break.

As an experienced thief who once operated in the border towns of Heihe, China, and Blagoveshchensk, this vigilance had never left him.

That muffled sound had to be from Yegor Ivanovich, a guy who had survived the Arctic camp of Zhukov’s training base.

He was incredibly skilled in close combat, ruthless as an assassin; one brutal kick could sever a head from a neck. He had knocked out opponents in the black market fights multiple times in under a minute, yet now, he was making such bizarre noises.

“Yegor? Did you break your manhood while trying to take the earth? Hahaha!”

Yefim laughed grotesquely, testing the waters with a loud voice. Nearby, only the sounds of car engines and others moving around preparing to pack up could be heard; everything seemed normal.

However, Yefim’s shouting received no response, and it was as if the black market fighter had vanished.

His heart sank.

This was not good.

He pulled the gun’s bolt back, getting ready to fire, but just as he was about to alert the others, a sudden chill shot through his neck, like a tearing pain slicing through half of it.

Hiss!

Yefim’s face revealed an extreme terror as blood sprayed from his neck; it felt like his entire life’s strength was leaking out through that wound.

A shadow leaped down from above the truck, perfectly slipping a small stick into the trigger of Yefim’s AK-47, cutting off his last chance.