Chapter 699: The End of the Radicals
Before dawn, standard Pandora time, in a steep rocky area thirty kilometers southeast of the Land of Chants.
Ignoring his unhealed wounds, Tsu'tey personally led a squad composed of over forty of the radical faction's most loyal warriors, silently infiltrating the region. According to intel provided by a hunter who claimed to have witnessed "sky demons" active in the area, a temporary Predator camp was suspected to be here.
Tsu'tey's right arm was still wrapped in thick herbal bandages, and throbbing pain radiated from the plasma burns. However, the pain only served to harden his resolve.
He could wait no longer. Sutai's rhetoric of "caution" and "cooperation" was gaining more support within the clan, and the successive, precise attacks targeting radical members had left his followers restless and uncertain.
He needed a victory—a true, bloody victory—to reverse the decline and prove that Na'vi courage and strength were sufficient to defeat any enemy, without needing to rely on the Sky People's charity.
"Korak's blood cannot flow in vain," Tsu'tey whispered to his lieutenant, a young hunter named Tano, eyes burning with the flames of vengeance. "Today, we will use these monsters' heads as an offering to all our fallen kin."
Tano nodded firmly, tightening his grip on his longbow. The other warriors in the squad also wore solemn expressions. Most were avengers who had lost friends or family; hatred for the Predators drove them to follow Tsu'tey on this perilous venture.
They deployed into a traditional Na'vi hunting formation, spreading out and utilizing the jagged rocks and bioluminescent lichens for cover, melting into the complex canyon terrain like drops of water seeping into sand.
Ikran riders circled high above the canyon, utilizing their altitude advantage for reconnaissance. On the ground, three specially trained Viperwolves kept their heads low, sniffing, attempting to catch any anomalous scents in the air.
Time ticked by. The canyon was dead silent, save for the whistling of the wind through the rock crevices.
"No signs of activity detected," a hunter responsible for communicating with the Ikran riders reported softly. "Even animal tracks are scarce."
Tsu'tey frowned. Was the intel flawed? Or had those monsters already left?
Just as he was hesitating whether to order a retreat, a sudden change occurred.
"Ah—!"
A short, blood-curdling scream came from the left flank, followed immediately by the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground.
Everyone's heart lurched. They instantly shifted into combat readiness, bowstrings drawn taut, spears pointed toward the source of the sound.
"What happened?" Tsu'tey demanded sharply.
"I... I don't know! Kazan just dropped! I didn't see anything attack him!" came the terrified response from the left flank.
Tsu'tey signaled two warriors to investigate. Cautiously approaching their fallen comrade, they found the hunter named Kazan lying face-up on the ground. A minuscule, nearly invisible cut across his neck was rapidly pooling with blood.
His eyes were wide open, filled with the blankness and terror of his final moments.
There were no signs of enemies in the vicinity, nor were there any scorch marks left by energy weapons.
"It... it's those invisible demons!" a young hunter's voice trembled.
Panic began to spread through the squad like a plague. An invisible enemy was the most terrifying of all.
"Hold formation! Back to back!" Tsu'tey roared, attempting to steady their morale. "They are close! Use your ears, use your noses, use every sense Eywa has gifted you!"
Before he even finished speaking, a muffled grunt and the sound of a body collapsing came from the rear right. This time, they vaguely saw a blurry shadow flash by at an incomprehensible speed.
"There!" Tano reacted instantly, firing a poisoned arrow.
The arrow vanished into the air and struck a distant rock wall with a crisp ding, clearly missing its mark.
Immediately afterward, attacks rained down from multiple directions simultaneously.
There was no screeching of plasma beams, no loud clashing of metal. Only the faintest whisper of wind, the dull thud of blades slicing through flesh, and the sound of Na'vi warriors falling one after another.
The attackers were true phantoms, leaping and flickering through the rocky shadows. Every appearance was accompanied by a precise and lethal strike. They seemed intimately familiar with Na'vi combat methods, always slipping past their defenses to specifically target the neck, joints, and neural queue connections.
Roaring, Tsu'tey swung his bone axe with his left hand, charging toward a blurry figure that had just appeared and was about to vanish again. But his movements were half a beat too slow due to his injured right arm, and the axe blade only cleaved empty air.
In the next moment, he felt a searing pain in his left calf. Looking down, a deep gash exposing bone had appeared without him realizing it, blood rapidly dyeing his leg wraps red.
"Leader!" Tano cried out in alarm, attempting to rush over and provide cover.
"Leave me! Organize a defense! Use the smoke!" Tsu'tey roared through the pain.
Several hunters quickly retrieved prepared plant bulbs that, when struck, produced a thick, irritating smoke, smashing them forcefully against the ground. Dense gray-white smoke rapidly billowed out, obscuring vision.
This tactic yielded some results. The frequency of the attacks noticeably decreased; clearly, the enemy was also unwilling to fight in an environment where they were completely blind.
But the smoke also obscured the Na'vi's own vision and communication. The squad was divided, falling into the predicament of fighting isolated battles.
"Retreat! Retreat to the canyon exit!" Knowing this hunt had completely failed, Tsu'tey decisively issued the order to fall back.
The retreat devolved into a rout.
In the smoke and chaos, Na'vi warriors fell one after another. The attackers seemed to deliberately let some escape; their strikes were primarily concentrated on Tsu'tey and his core followers.
When Tsu'tey, supported by Tano and two other warriors, stumbled out of the canyon in a pathetic state, less than fifteen of the forty-plus elite hunters he had brought with him emerged, and every single one of them was wounded.
Besides the gash on his calf, Tsu'tey had acquired a deep scratch across his back; blood stained more than half his body.
They hadn't even caught a clear glimpse of the enemy's true appearance, nor had they launched a single effective counterattack. Like a herd of driven prey, they were utterly crushed by the hunters' cruel game.
On the journey back, the survivors remained silent; only heavy panting and suppressed groans could be heard.
The heavy shadow of defeat and death pressed down on everyone's hearts.
Tsu'tey's face was deathly pale—not just from blood loss, but from the devastating blow to his convictions.
When they finally caught sight of the familiar silhouette of the Hometree at the Land of Chants, a young hunter in the squad could bear it no longer and broke down crying.
His wails were hoarse and despairing, as if giving voice to the exact feelings of every radical warrior in that moment.