Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1119 - 548-3
This couldn’t help but make a few members of the Bloodthorn Mercenary Corps instinctively wary.
They understood that to ensure the success of this transaction and avoid the risk of a double-cross, they specifically dispatched all the Flying Crane Gang’s elite, armed and stationed here.
Besides the dozen gunmen on the roof terrace, there were several dozen more personnel positioned downstairs, guarding the elevator and fire escape securely.
Such an airtight setup, even if a special police assault team charged in, they could hold them off for at least ten minutes.
Unexpectedly, the East City Association’s people broke through so quickly, barely able to offer any resistance, appearing utterly vulnerable.
This was enough to indicate that the intruders were undoubtedly ruthless and their strength could not be underestimated.
Fire Dragon had a hint of seriousness on his face as he looked toward the Masked Guest standing behind, hands behind his back, as if seeking approval.
The Masked Guest glanced through his mask, giving a slight nod toward him.
Receiving approval from the leader, Fire Dragon immediately raised his hand and made a tactical gesture to the panicked gang members around.
It was a signal for everyone to scatter their formation, forming a fan-shaped perimeter around the entrance, constructing a seamless shooting net.
Pa.
The group had just adjusted their positions when footsteps suddenly stopped behind the door.
The air seemed to freeze for a second.
The next second—
"Boom!"
The heavy iron security door seemed to have been hit directly by a shell.
Accompanied by a thunderous bang, the entire door twisted and deformed, crashing to the ground.
"Open fire!"
Fire Dragon let out a sharp yell.
Da da da da da da da da da—
Over a dozen automatic rifles roared simultaneously, their muzzles spewing long tongues of flame.
Dense bullets poured out like a storm, wildly shooting toward the smashed-open entrance.
Bullets struck the twisted remnants of the iron door and the cement ground, sparking a dazzling array of sparks.
In an instant, debris flew, and powder smoke rose all around.
The sharp smell of gunpowder quickly permeated the entire roof terrace.
A few seconds later, the gunfire gradually subsided.
The Flying Crane Gang’s gunmen had almost emptied their magazines before they finally let go of their triggers, panting.
The gun barrels still smoked, and hot shell casings were scattered across the ground.
Under the cold white LED lights, they shimmered with a chilling metallic sheen.
On the roof terrace, everyone had their eyes fixed on the gap forcefully breached open.
As the night wind swept through, the dispersed smoke and dust gradually revealed the battered hallway.
However, inside, there were no bodies, no bloodstains, not even a shadow of a person.
Only the twisted and deformed iron door lay forlornly on the ground, as if mocking their previous barrage of firepower, which merely vented at the air.
The intrusion reported by the communicator had vanished without a trace.
"No one?"
Black Mamba’s eyes squinted slightly, intending to use his invisibility ability to investigate.
Just then, a flicker of firelight suddenly appeared in the dark, profound doorway.
As weak as a firefly, it suddenly became as dazzling as a star.
Bang!
A sharp and terse gunshot tore through the recently silenced air.
Only to see a bullet wrapped in spiral air currents shoot out from the darkness, heading straight for Black Mamba’s forehead.
"Get down!"
The Masked Guest’s voice rang out almost simultaneously with the gunshot.
Black Mamba, a seasoned mercenary, naturally reacted swiftly.
Upon hearing the warning, he instinctively dodged to the right, tilting his neck back to an extreme angle.
"Whoosh—"
That was the sharp sound of a bullet slicing through the air at high speed.
The scorching round whisked past Black Mamba’s cheek, leaving a fine line of blood, even singeing a few strands of hair.
Black Mamba broke out in a cold sweat, barely managing to feel relieved at having escaped death when the corner of his eye glimpsed a scene that made his pupils contract sharply.
The bullet he thought he had dodged didn’t miss.
It carved an eerie C-shaped arc in the air, miraculously curving back to the left as if it had eyes.
"Pfft!"
A dull sound came, like a blade brutally piercing flesh.
A gunman standing to Black Mamba’s left rear hadn’t even realized what had happened before his chest burst into a blood flower.
This wasn’t over.
The bullet, with terrifying momentum, continued to drill backward after penetrating his chest, sequentially piercing through the bodies of two more comrades nearby.
"Thud," "thud," "thud."
The three corpses fell in succession, as if strung together by a line of blood.