Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1143 - 558
Previously on Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups...
Buzz buzz buzz—
The echoes of the blast still lingered in the air as the armed helicopter, resembling a Black Hawk, lifted itself once more.
On this occasion, it refused Fang Cheng any opportunity to hurl objects.
Instead, the craft swiftly ascended beyond two hundred meters and began circling the structure in a tactical maneuver.
At two hundred meters, such height rendered thrown weapons from a single soldier utterly ineffective.
Yet for a helicopter armed with M134 cannons and 'Nine-headed Serpent' rocket pods, this proved the ideal range for unleashing devastation.
"What? No more tossing stones?"
Through the loudspeaker piercing the dark sky, Captain Hu's voice rang out, dripping with the taunt of a predator toying with its prey:
"Let's see how long you can stay hidden! Weren't you boasting just moments ago?"
"Where's your bravado now? If you've got the nerve, soar up here and take a snap at me!"
Within the cockpit, Captain Hu fine-tuned the control stick to sustain the circular path, his gaze icy as it swept over the wreckage below.
Should the foe emerge in fury, even exposing a mere sliver of fabric, a torrent of concentrated fire would greet him.
Captain Hu let out a cold huff, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Even supposing this beast's limbs were forged like hydraulic machinery, capable of launching concrete chunks skyward,
gravity's pull over two hundred meters, combined with gusting winds, would sap much of that force.
His reflexes allowed him to dodge with ease.
As long as no massive debris struck and doomed the helicopter, he could afford to relax.
This was the edge granted by dominance in the skies.
Without wings sprouting from his back or belonging among the scarce airborne mutants, the enemy remained a stationary mark.
At the same time.
On the rooftop's eastern edge, concealed behind the base of the central air conditioning cooling tower.
This spot precisely evaded the helicopter's line of fire.
Fang Cheng pressed against the concrete barrier, brushing dust from his form with a raised hand.
Nearby rested his trusty companion, a blue canvas shoulder bag.
Upon scaling the Silver Wing Building, he had stashed the bag with his equipment in this secluded nook temporarily.
Moments earlier, evading the duo of rockets, the memory of this hideout flashed in his mind, guiding him here without issue.
Notably, those rockets hurtled at speeds hitting at least Mach two, far more vexing than the slower cannon rounds.
Though he trusted his Protective True Qi could endure such impacts confidently.
Still, the sensation of enduring assaults without retaliation grated on him deeply.
He wasn't one for self-inflicted pain; absent the need to rescue others, why would he stand idle as foes struck?
Fang Cheng's eyes narrowed coldly, surveying his surroundings while pondering inwardly.
He had to devise a method to bring down that pesky flying nuisance.
"Uh... cough cough..."
As thoughts churned in his mind, a rasping noise, akin to a faulty bellows, emanated from near his feet.
Fang Cheng tilted his head for a look.
There lay the Bloodthorn Mercenary Corps' leader, Masked Guest, slumped against the wall.
His grotesque visage, marred by deep purple scars, twisted further into a ghastly pallor, drained of all vitality.
This fellow proved cunning indeed.
Earlier, as the Illuminati forces bolted, he sensed danger and darted to this flawless shelter right away.
Yet with his grave wounds, he lacked Fang Cheng's unnatural resilience.
Though he managed a frail Telekinesis Shield, it failed to halt the barrage of metal entirely.
Now, his left leg was mangled by a heavy machine gun round, held together solely by tattered tissue.
His belly gaped with a fist-sized gash, spilling entrails amid rivers of blood.
For any normal soul, such damage meant instant demise.
Only through his potent S-Class mutant vitality did he cling to life, defying death's grasp.
"Hu... Hu Bapi... cough cough..."
Masked Guest spat blood, venting curses amid spasms:
"Curse your lineage to the eighteenth generation! I've slaved for the military... handled your filthiest tasks... cough cough..."
"You bastard, turning on your own allies..."
His rage burned true, a seething fury!
He had mapped it all: pay Fang Cheng off, spill the hidden truths.
Even groveling before this stellar fiend, survival was the prize.
Worst case, he'd shed his old skin later, reclaiming mercenary glory overseas as a kingpin.
Could a issue resolved without violence truly be deemed an issue?
Ultimately, a solid deal sabotaged by that dim-witted brute obsessed with brawn and protocols!
Masked Guest clenched his jaws, eyes blazing crimson with wrath.
As a revered S-Class powerhouse, respect and awe followed him everywhere.
Though unregistered with the forces, top brass extended courtesies.
When had a mere task force head dared command him, discarding him like refuse?
"Damn it... Even in death, I'll haunt you..."
Masked Guest's stare grew vacant, his mutterings trailing into vague oaths.
"Crave vengeance?"
A steady voice cut in abruptly.
Fang Cheng knelt low, his attention pausing briefly on the ravaged abdominal tear, as though weighing its severity.
"I can assist you."
Masked Guest forced his lids apart, and recognizing the features before him, he unleashed a wry chuckle:
"Assist me? Since when are you so generous?"
"Without your meddling... cough cough... without you interfering, I'd be tallying my cash in bliss right now!
"Hell, how did things sour like this... cough cough..."
Fang Cheng remained unruffled, regarding him with the detached appraisal of a 'potential instrument.'
That look stripped away all warmth, chilling Masked Guest to the bone, evoking the predatory fixation of a savage predator.
Yet reflection brought scorn: facing death soon, what terror lingered?