National Survival: I Supported the Dragon Nation by Hunting Dinosaurs

Seventeen-Nation Alliance Camp.

The midday sun cast dappled shadows through the tree canopy, and the camp participants gathered in twos and threes, munching on compressed biscuits and dried meat that had been airdropped.

The morning's hunt had left everyone quite exhausted, so this was a rare moment of rest.

Jason leaned against a rock, his shotgun resting on his knees, his eyes scanning his surroundings warily.

Roland was wiping the blood off his handsaxe.

Just then.

Four figures swaggered out from the edge of the jungle.

The leader was a tall blond man, nearly 1.9 meters tall, with an arrogant smile on his face.

He had a cigar he'd found in an airdrop dangling from his mouth, and through the swirling smoke, his azure eyes gleamed with a hint of madness.

The three men behind him were equally menacing, their waists bulging, clearly concealing weapons.

The athletes in the camp all looked up, watching the four uninvited guests warily.

"Who goes there?" The South Korean athlete was the first to stand up, his hand resting on his compound bow.

The blond man exhaled a puff of smoke and grinned: "Gallic country, Piercassonne."

His voice carried a heavy French accent, yet it exuded an undeniable domineering air.

The live stream room in Gaul instantly went wild.

"Holy crap! The God of Gamblers is here!"

"Pierre and Cartier-Bresson! The king of Paris's underworld!"

"This is going to be interesting!"

In the studio, the experts from Gaul stood up excitedly.

"Ladies and gentlemen! This is none other than Pierre Carson, a legendary figure from our Gallic Kingdom!"

"He swept through European casinos at eighteen, and by twenty-five, he controlled one-third of the underground power in Gaul!"

"Although his methods... cough cough, are somewhat extreme, there's no denying he's a truly ruthless person!"

Inside the camp.

Pierre-Karl surveyed the camp, his smile gradually turning into a mocking one.

"this one?"

He flicked the ash from his cigar. "An alliance of seventeen nations, and the camp doesn't even have a decent defensive structure?"

"Are you here on vacation?"

Three of his men behind him simultaneously lifted their jackets, revealing standard-issue pistols at their waists.

The dark muzzle of the gun gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

The atmosphere in the camp instantly froze.

Jason's face instantly darkened. He stood up abruptly, raised his shotgun, and pointed it at Pierre Caesar.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

His voice was menacing, "It's none of your business to tell people what to do here!"

The shotgun muzzle was aimed at Pierre Carson's head, less than five meters away.

At this distance, one shot would blow his head off.

however.

Pierre-Carsson advanced instead of retreating.

He strode toward Jason, a cigar dangling from his lips, his smile growing even more arrogant.

"Four pistols against one shotgun."

He exhaled a puff of smoke. "Who do you think has a better chance of winning?"

The three henchmen simultaneously drew their guns, the dark muzzles aimed at Jason.

The other participants in the camp retreated, and no one dared to intervene in the standoff.

Roland's eyes narrowed.

He noticed the equipment of Pierre Carson and others—standard pistols, tactical vests, magazines…

These things definitely can't be gathered in just one or two airdrops.

"Your airdrop crates are full of weapons?"

Roland's voice was low and filled with disbelief.

Pierre-Casson laughed heartily and turned to look at Roland.

"It won't hurt to tell you."

He patted the pistol at his waist. "Four of us, eight airdrops, and all we got was a huge bag of cigars and weapons!"

"Luckily, we managed to assemble a firepower squad."

The athletes from other countries in the camp looked at each other, their eyes flashing with shock and fear.

"I know him!" one contestant whispered. "The Gallic God of Gamblers! Legend has it his luck can defy fate!"

"Is this the luck of the God of Gamblers?"

"Eight airdrops, all weapons... This is fucking outrageous!"

Jason's hand gripping the gun had veins bulging, and his index finger was on the trigger.

At this moment, facing the threat of four pistols, his heart began to pound.

Just then.

Pierre Carson suddenly strode forward and pressed his head directly against the muzzle of the shotgun!

"Shoot!"

He suddenly ripped open his coat.

Pierre Carson's waist and chest were covered with explosive devices!

The red fuse was in his hand!

"You little scoundrel."

Pierre Carson's voice was frantic: "If you dare to fire, we'll all go to heaven together!"

"Our motto in the underworld is 'ruthlessness'!"

He licked his lips, a morbid excitement gleaming in his eyes.

Jason's hands began to tremble.

He had seen desperados, but he had never seen anyone this crazy!

That guy's fucking insane!

Roland's pupils constricted, and he immediately realized—this man was truly willing to die together with his opponent!

The live stream room in Gaul completely exploded.

"Holy crap! The God of Gamblers is awesome!"

"That's a truly ruthless person!"

"Jason chickened out! Hahaha!"

Meanwhile, inside the decision-making room of the Kingdom of Gaul.

A middle-aged man in a suit watched the live stream, his face ashen.

"Damn it! How did that madman get to the camp so quickly!"

The phone rang suddenly.

He answered the phone, and heard the angry voice of a decision-maker from the United States.

"We're strategic friends! What's with this Pierre Cardin thing?! Answer me!!!"

The decision-makers in Gaul sighed helplessly.

"He is the king beneath Gaul."

His voice was weary. "Even our official organizations can hardly control him."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by the sound of something being smashed.

Inside the camp.

Pierre Kasson stared coldly at Jason.

"Now, put down your gun, call me 'boss,' and this matter will be over."

He licked his lips. "Otherwise, I wouldn't mind turning this camp into a crematorium."

Jason's face flushed red; the humiliation made him want to pull the trigger.

At this critical moment.

Roland held Jason's gun barrel.

"That's enough, Jason."

Roland's voice was authoritative: "Now is not the time for infighting."

He turned to Pierre-Carson, his eyes sharp.

"You can want to be the boss, but there's a prerequisite—you have to prove you have the ability."

He paused, then continued, "Our coordinates have been exposed to the Dragon Kingdom. I hope you can guarantee our safety!"

Pierre-Karl squinted as he looked Roland up and down.

After a long pause, he suddenly laughed.

"Interesting, the people of the US are still smart!"

He loosened the string in his hand and buttoned his coat back up.

"A Chinese from the Dragon Kingdom?"

He exhaled a puff of smoke. "I was just wondering where to try out these new toys."

Roland continued, "But I must remind you, Zhang Li of the Dragon Kingdom is no ordinary man."

"If you underestimate him, you might not even get to see his face with your weapons."

Pierre-Karl waved his hand dismissively.

"Just a college student..."

"Even when he comes, all he can do is shine my shoes!"