Super Island Tycoon

The smugglers were still focused entirely on dealing with Little Flaming Firebird, their plan having taken effect, so their movements became increasingly unrestrained.

The guy who wanted to drag Yanran up was dumbfounded by Ruoran’s astonishing transformation, he stared wide-eyed at Ruoran, forgetting what he intended to do.

Yanran’s face was flushed as if it were about to drip blood, with flames in her eyes seeming capable of causing tangible damage, her hair moving of its own accord despite the calm air.

Although she was gagged and unable to make a sound, her expression showed that she was making a screaming motion, and with a bang, the smuggler nearest to Yanran was sent flying.

Unable to move, Yanran watched as her beloved Little Flaming Firebird bravely attacked the smugglers to protect her, not retreating even in the face of weapons that could potentially inflict fatal damage.

Witnessing all of this, Yanran’s worry, anger, and regret swirled inside her, eventually condensing into a raging fire.

This fire burned within her body, searing her spirit, scorching her consciousness, relentlessly surging through her.

With a heart-wrenching cry from Little Flaming Crow, the fire within Yanran reached its apex.

Accompanied by that roar, the closest smuggler to Yanran was sent flying.

The sudden disturbance behind them startled those who were attacking Little Flaming Firebird, prompting them to turn their heads around.

The alien race girl who had been tied up tightly now stood before them, all the bindings that had constrained her were gone.

The alien race girl before them felt utterly unfamiliar; her face was deathly pale, yet her eyes were fiery red, filled with anger so overwhelming that it instilled fear.

This alien race girl gripped a bow tightly with both hands, her wild gaze fixed on them. To the smugglers, despite her unchanged appearance, it was as if Death God stood before them.

They halted their attacks, staring at Yanran dumbfoundedly, unsure of what to do next.

A guy suddenly cried out as Little Flaming Firebird, seizing the opportunity, swooped down to scratch at his face.

The cry snapped the dazed guys awake, their shout resounded as they waved wooden clubs, rushing at Yanran.

Mainly smugglers, secondarily bandits, these guys had seen many bloody and fiery scenes, ferocity was a necessary resolve for them.

Without this ferocity, they wouldn’t be able to raise the knife against innocent people; lacking it, they wouldn’t succeed in the dog-eat-dog underworld; without it, they wouldn’t even be able to safeguard their own lives in that brutal underground world.

Thus, even though Yanran’s transformation frightened them, they still charged with the reckless resolve of ”it’s either you or me” towards a showdown.

This tenacious spirit had often allowed these smugglers to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Unfortunately, this time, they were utterly outmatched by the girl before them.

With a series of backflips, Yanran halted in front of her bow, without even glancing, reaching out to grasp the bow in hand, her arrow placement as swift as lightning.

With a cold gaze, Yanran aimed her bow at the charging smugglers and halted their advance, forcing them to stop suddenly.

At that moment, Yanran knelt on one knee, bow drawn in hand, an arrowhead glinting coldly on the string, the string near her jade-like face, slender yet powerful, the bow bent into a full moon.

Her expression remained calm, all movements ceased, resembling a vividly alive statue.

The smugglers exchanged fearful glances, their footsteps slowly retreating.

Though fierce and unafraid of death, they did not truly deem death to be inconsequential; rather, they valued their own lives, dressing their fear of death in a guise of ferocity.

The alien race girl before them, with her deathly aura and the deadly light of the arrowheads, intimidated them, planting the idea of escaping in their minds.

Standing behind them, Old Bit, shrewd as he was, saw the situation and realized that if they didn’t counterattack, none of them would escape the arrows of this girl. If they fought desperately, they might still hold a chance, so he encouraged his companions, ”Don’t be afraid, she can only shoot one arrow at a time, and there are so many of us, what’s there to fear?”

Suddenly he shouted, ”Charge! Kill that woman!”

Following his cry, the group of robbers brandished their wooden clubs, shouting as they charged at Yanran again.

Old Bit wasn’t wrong. The woman only had one arrow; she could shoot only one person, and they were only a few steps away from her, they’d reach her by the time she could shoot again.

But they were wrong, terribly wrong.

The bowstring flashed, and Yanran’s arrow shot forth like a bolt of lightning.

A smuggler charging in front suddenly collapsed to the ground, an arrow deeply embedded in his throat, blood gushing from the wound.

As if that arrow had never been shot, another arrow sat steadily on the string.

Although the smugglers saw a comrade fall, although they saw another arrow appear on the girl’s bow, they had no chance to retreat now.

With the scream of ”Chen Lin,” the smugglers fell one after another, arrows lodged in their throats.

The nearest smuggler to Yanran had already raised his wooden club, and if he could bring it down, it would certainly be the alien race girl who fell.

But he never got the chance.

Yanran remained unmoved, leaning backward from her original half-knelt position, forming a perfect angle with the ground, bow aimed at the smuggler with the raised club.

The distance was so short, their gazes met.

Yanran’s gaze was still calm, as if she wasn’t killing a living person, not even the prey she often hunted, but just a target she practiced on.

The smuggler’s gaze was filled with despair, fear, and a trace of last-ditch savageness.

The wooden club raised high never got the chance to come down; in an instant of lightning-fast action, Yanran released her arrow.

The arrow flew into the smuggler’s underside, deeply piercing into his head, the powerful impact sending his body flying.

With a ”clunk,” the club dropped to the ground, rolling a few times before coming to a stop.

Yanran stood up, bow aimed at Old Bit.

That cunning old fox, he had egged his companions to attack Yanran, yet stayed put himself. When Yanran started shooting his companions, sensing danger, he tried to flee, but he hadn’t expected his companions to die so quickly, leaving no time for escape.

Confronted by the alien race girl’s bow, Old Bit knelt down in fear.