Working in a tropical jungle during a torrential rainstorm is never pleasant.
Movement is difficult, the air is suffocatingly humid, tools slip from hands, and the mix of sweat and rain makes everything sticky. The darkness rivals night, and vision is constantly blurred by rain. It is uncomfortable in every conceivable way.
Under normal circumstances, Chuck wouldn't have the motivation to work in such conditions. But this time was different.
Fueled by anger and obsession, Chuck wasn't just motivated; he was driven.
The harder it rained, the angrier he became at this damn island, and the faster he swung his axe.
Soaked clothes became heavy and sticky, so Chuck stripped naked, hacking his way through the dim jungle in the buff.
"Rain? Wind?"
"Fuck you, island!"
Chuck hadn't been this agitated since arriving.
Pressure turns into motivation, and so does anger. Fueled by adrenaline, Chuck became a tireless tree-felling machine, swinging his blade wildly in the stormy jungle.
In just an hour, he cleared a path from the plains' outskirts to the small clearing in the jungle, wide enough for a full-speed sprint.
Looking up at the pouring sky, the dim light faded further with time. His limbs felt swollen.
Looking around, Chuck hesitated for a long while before weakly putting away his tools.
In this weather, even if he set traps alone, the storm would easily wash them away.
Anger aside, being mad wouldn't solve the problem.
It was dark, probably nearing evening. Once the sun set, visibility would hit zero, forcing him to grope in the dark.
Though physically tough, surviving a night in a cold storm was nearly impossible.
As the head of the household and the women's reliance, if something happened to him, everything would truly be lost.
Thinking this, Chuck finally turned back. Relying on minimal visibility and the path he forged, he crossed the tropical jungle and redwood forest. An hour later, he returned to the stone platform just before complete darkness.
Naturally, as soon as he stepped in, the women waiting anxiously at the table swarmed him, faces full of worry turned relief.
Seeing them, guilt rose in Chuck's heart.
Sometimes, obsessing over solving everything personally makes one overlook important things.
After changing clothes and being dried by Yitong and Kaoru, Chuck stood outside the storage room, looking in.
He met Jiang Qi's gaze.
"You're back~"
Seeing Chuck, Jiang Qi propped herself up. Her full breasts swayed slightly, neckline damp with sweat.
"How do you feel?"
Chuck entered calmly, sat by her side, stroked her smooth cheek, and asked softly.
"Hehe, just a bit tired. Otherwise fine. Don't worry too much."
Jiang Qi placed her small hand on his, looking intoxicated.
For years, she dreamed of this scene. Now that it was real, she felt genuinely happy.
Seeing her pitiful yet lovable look, Chuck spoke directly.
"The rain came suddenly. My plan was disrupted, so..."
"Brother."
A soft finger pressed his lips, silencing him.
The familiar yet strange address stunned Chuck.
Jiang Qi leaned closer, resting her soft cheek on his shoulder, breathing in his scent.
Her warm hand stroked his damp hair. Her pale face was full of love.
She knew about his venture into the rain. Besides being moved, she felt guilty toward him and the women.
If she hadn't appeared, Chuck wouldn't be rushing so desperately, and the women would be living peacefully instead of caring for her.
But after years of despair and longing, finally reuniting with her beloved, she really didn't want to give up. She wanted to live and be with Chuck forever.
"Didn't we agree? I believe in you, so you must believe in me."
"I haven't slept as soundly as last night in years. You gave me hope again."
Jiang Qi smiled gently.
"So don't push yourself. Since I promised you, I will hold on with all my might. My illness isn't so bad that I can't wait two days."
Hearing this, the always steady Chuck felt the urge to cry for the first time.
He opened his arms and hugged her tightly.
Yes, this wasn't his fight alone.
Jiang Qi had opened her heart, no longer hiding her condition. She had hope again. Her worsening condition or bed rest was because she finally stopped despairing and started facing her illness.
Startling trying to fight it.
"Sorry, I was too impatient."
Chuck buried his face in her soft, warm neck, feeling her familiar bounce against his chest.
Anxiety, anger, frustration—useless emotions for survival that only wasted mental energy.
The tiger, the final boss, wasn't something he could handle with a half-hearted mindset. Without calm, rational planning, he wouldn't achieve the desired result.
Instead of rushing, he should think about what he could do during this storm...
...
As predicted, the rain lasted two days. It slowed at noon on the third day and stopped completely by 3 PM. The clouds dispersed.
Fortunately, though Jiang Qi's condition worsened with visible edema in her lower limbs, she remained relatively stable.
True to her word, she was holding on with all her might.
Humans are emotional creatures; mentality affects the body far more than most imagine.
After his emotional outburst on the first day, Chuck calmed down. Reassessing the situation, he found things to do over the two rainy days.
First, Jiang Qi's medication. She mentioned she needed long-term medication but threw it into the sea before arriving, planning to die.
This was the main reason for her rapid deterioration. As a medical student who visited many doctors, she knew what she needed.
Consulting with Julia, they found diuretic and blood pressure-lowering herbs in stock. Chuck brewed soup twice a day. Though weak, it was better than nothing.
Trapped indoors, Chuck did two things.
First, he drew a simple map from the jungle to the lake on the mortar floor with charcoal and reviewed the plan with his teammate, Valentina.
As an experienced soldier who survived countless missions, Valentina pointed out flaws instantly.
"The first part is fine, but your third step is a big problem."
Yesterday morning, by the fireplace, Valentina pointed at a black circle on the map edge.
"When the tiger enters the forest, it won't run in a straight line like you. It will blend into the environment and pounce when you relax, tearing out your throat. Thinking you can lure it into a trap is wishful thinking."
Chuck froze, then nodded in agreement. No stubbornness.
"Then what should we do?"
"Your plan isn't a one-shot kill, but repeated hit-and-run attacks to bleed it out. So the main goal of step three isn't ambush, but escape."
Valentina thought briefly, took the charcoal, and drew on the other side of the jungle outskirts.
"So my rendezvous point shouldn't be in the forest... but here."
Chuck looked at her drawing.
The cave outside the tropical jungle!
Chuck stared, then slapped his thigh.
"We build a raft!"
Valentina pursed her lips and nodded.
"Running into the forest before the King of the Taiga is suicide. If you want to escape, go where it can't follow."
"We build a raft. Not big, not deep sea. Just enough to paddle from the shallows outside the cave to the southern beach. That's enough to shake off the King."
"Of course, this assumes the first two steps work. If you're not confident in your aim, I can shoot, and you handle the rendezvous."
Valentina sat on the floor, arms crossed, green eyes under silver bangs looking confidently at Chuck.
Chuck exhaled, sitting down and looking at the silver-haired woman with emotion.
"As expected of you."
Chuck rejoiced countless times over his decision to subdue Valentina.
He thought briefly and nodded.
"Let's do this. We settle the raft first. Once the rain stops, we speed-train with the ballista. Then we compete. Whoever has better aim shoots; the other handles rendezvous. Deal?"
"Compete?!"
Hearing the word, a switch flipped in Valentina. Her leopard-like body sat up straight, eyes burning, her calm face showing irrepressible excitement.
"Then let's compete!"
Her fists clenched. After losing to Chuck repeatedly and becoming his woman, though life was good and she liked his dick, she still had a competitive streak.
Their weekly sparring promise had faded away. She didn't bring it up since they couldn't fight seriously anymore given their intimacy. But now, a new chance to compete, and in "aiming," her forte.
Surviving brutal battlefields relied not just on senses and tactics, but marksmanship.
In a trench encounter, it's kill or be killed.
She lost count of the men who died under her gun.
"Old rules then?"
Seeing her excitement, Chuck raised an eyebrow, interest piqued.
"...What old rules?"
Valentina froze, then blushed as less-than-pleasant memories surfaced.
"If we compete, there must be stakes."
Chuck's smile turned meaningful.
"Loser gets played with by the winner for an hour. Of course, redeemable after the dust settles."
I knew it!
Valentina gritted her teeth at Chuck, slapping her thigh hard.
"Fine! Old rules!"