Chapter 932: Chapter 932: Tide of Beasts Chapter 932: Chapter 932: Tide of Beasts Phillips casually tossed over a double-barreled shotgun and handed Greg Jensen a bag of bullets.

Greg caught the shotgun and started to fiddle with it carelessly.

Seeing his skilled handling, the father and son couldn’t help but be a bit surprised. Did this seemingly tender boy really know how to handle a gun?

Greg checked the ammunition chamber and, upon seeing it was empty, he then inspected the barrels and even touched them, commenting with distaste,
“Has this gun always used black powder? It’s so dirty.”

Phillips nodded subconsciously and said, “Smokeless powder has been in short supply recently, so we’ve switched to black powder for a while.”

Orlov asked, “Aren’t guns banned in China? How do you…”

Greg said indifferently, “I’ve played with them abroad.”

At that moment, Natasha walked out and saw Greg playing with the double-barreled shotgun, her little face turning red with anger.

She placed her hands on her hips, and angrily said to the father and brother, “Are you really letting him hunt ferocious beasts with that kind of gun? Are you sending him to his death?”

“Well…”

“There are even people in the Hunting Team using homemade guns.”

The father and son were somewhat embarrassed; they had indeed intended to discourage Greg by carelessly providing him with any gun.

Who could have thought that not only did he not back down, but he also turned out to be an expert?

“Here, take this.”

Natasha brought over an AK and handed it to Greg along with several bullet-filled magazines.

“Aren’t you afraid the recoil will bruise his shoulder?”

Orlov pursed his lips, his voice carrying a hint of jealousy, “Our home’s cotton is letting in drafts.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him and brought over a cotton jacket for Greg, “It’s cold out in the tundra, put this on once you get there.”

After speaking, she tiptoed to kiss Greg on the face, making the father and son smack their lips in envy.

“That’s enough, there are so many people waiting outside.”

Upon hearing Orlov’s urging, Greg didn’t shy away and wrapped his arms around Natasha’s slender waist for a deep kiss.

He only let her go after leaving her face flushed with red, quite content with himself.

With her cheeks still blushing, Natasha reminded him, “You must be careful, I’ll wait for your return.”

“Don’t worry,”
he replied with a smile and bade her farewell before following Orlov and Phillips out the door.

Outside, they indeed found many people already waiting with their gear on their backs.

Seeing a foreign young man joining the team sparked everyone’s curiosity; learning he was Natasha’s boyfriend made them all laugh.

“Eugene, your Natasha belongs to someone else now, you’ve got no chance.”

“Natasha has her own right to choose, and I can’t do anything about it.”

Eugene shrugged his shoulders and gave Greg a friendly pat, smiling, “Brother, don’t mind them.”

Greg just smiled back without saying a word.

“Alright, as usual, groups of five. Signal if you spot any ferocious beasts; this kid is with us.”

Orlov waved his hand grandly, “Now, let’s move out!”

Everyone started climbing into several pickup trucks, heading off towards the northern wasteland.

En route, Orlov and Phillips were both very quiet, their expressions stern, while Eugene seemed carefree, laughing and chatting with Greg.

Through conversation, it was clear that the village had a tradition of hunting ferocious beasts on the wasteland before winter every year, ensuring they didn’t need to buy meat for the season.

Every year, there were not a few who died from this tradition, yet the beasts had to be killed, and people would inevitably die–sooner or later, it made no difference to them.

Greg felt somewhat moved inside; this was the life of ordinary people, constantly busy in the struggle for survival.

The vehicles jostled along the road, and after about an hour, the temperature had gradually dropped.

It wasn’t until they got off the car that they realized, in just an hour’s journey, they seemed to have arrived in another world.

All around them stretched boundless whiteness, with the occasional green shards piercing through the snow–tips of grass.

Roar!

In the distance, could the roar of ferocious beasts be heard?

Upon hearing this sound, Orlov was overjoyed and ordered everyone to spread out and hide around the edge of the forest.

He himself carried a thermos flask into the open space in the snowfield and scattered fresh pig’s blood on the ground.

The pig’s blood quickly froze and congealed, but the scent of blood spread with the cold wind.

Soon enough, a level five tiger approached, sniffing cautiously before licking the blood.

The tiger was huge, easily three to four hundred pounds. Orlov’s face lit up with excitement, he raised his rifle to aim when suddenly, with a bang, the tiger collapsed to the ground.

“Uh–”
Those ready to shoot were all dumbfounded, turning towards the direction of the gunshot, they discovered it was Greg Jensen who had fired.

“Impressive!”

“Greg, that was a good shot.”

Everyone gave Greg thumbs up, while Orlov showed a look of surprise.

He had thought this young man from China was just for show, but it turned out he was actually skilled. Setting aside his physical fitness, his spear technique was accurate enough.

From over a hundred meters away, and amid the cold wind, he shot the tiger squarely in the head.

You see, Greg had just gotten his hands on the gun, not even having time to adjust it before departing with the team.

Under such circumstances, managing a direct hit was indeed rare.

The group praised him, Natasha had found a good man, and Orlov smiled as if basking in reflected glory, his attitude towards Greg softened considerably.

Having hit a tiger right upon arrival could be considered an auspicious start, and old Orlov was very pleased. He arranged for a few people to drag the tiger back to the car while he led the others deeper into the wilderness.

He had thought this day would be full of rewards, but before they walked much farther, the ground suddenly began to tremble.

Rumble!

From the dense forest ahead, came a thunderous roar, just like thunder.

“Beast tide! Retreat quickly!”

The experienced Orlov immediately realized something was wrong and hurriedly prepared to lead the group in retreat.

However, Greg suddenly spoke, “It’s too late, run to the west.”

In his Divine Sense, hundreds upon hundreds of ferocious beasts were sprinting towards them at a desperate pace.

Facing these low-level ferocious beasts, Greg naturally wasn’t afraid, but the ordinary people behind him might not be so lucky.

They could either be killed by the savage beasts’ bite or be trampled by the massive horde.

Instinctively, the team followed Greg as he ran west. After a short while, Orlov realized something was off.

He was the team leader, so why was this youngster giving orders?

And what made this youngster say it was too late to retreat?

Before Orlov could figure it out, a large hand grabbed his collar and yanked him over.

The next second, the roaring sound approached abruptly.

Rumble!

Hundreds of beasts stampeded crazily towards the south, demolishing everything daring to block their way, be it man or tree.

Even trees as thick as water barrels were knocked down–if they hit a person…

And these beasts were just a step away from Orlov, almost brushing past his nose as they charged by.

If it hadn’t been for the person who pulled him back at the last second, he might already have become nothing more than a smear of flesh under the paws of the beasts.