A bullet deflected by a curved knife grazed O'Reilly's cheek and burrowed into a nearby tree trunk, the brush with death leaving her legs weak with fear, and she collapsed on the ground.
The chieftain's sprint was too swift, he swung his knife in succession, slashing through a South American's chest. Half of his torso slid off along the cut, his visceral guts spilling out, blood spraying like a fountain.
The mercenary leader couldn't see the opponent's movements at all, retreating entirely by instinct and grabbing his combat mate beside him, pushing him forward as a shield.
His, the combat mate's head was chopped off, and the mercenary leader, with one hand holding his gun, fired frantically at the chieftain, regardless of the risk of friendly fire.
Bullets flew wildly, South Americans screamed, beginning a panicked retreat without care for running into the Aboriginals. Only the bearded Carlos, Javier, and O'Reilly remained sufficiently calm, knowing to move closer to Tang Zheng.
