Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1147 - 559_2

Simultaneously, the rogue helicopter utterly forfeited its final lift and plunged into an accelerating descent.

"Alert! Alert! Altitude critically low! Pull up now!"

The icy mechanical tone from the onboard system, the shrill stall alarm, and the rupturing hydraulic lines' whistles all blended into chaos.

Enormous centrifugal forces hurled every item within the cockpit outward in all directions.

The surviving trio of soldiers, scattered gauge pieces, ejected shell hulls, and the mangled remains of the Masked Guest tumbled wildly through the interior.

Yet Fang Cheng's feet stayed firmly planted on the deck, clutching Captain Hu's body in one grip, his form as unyielding as a peak.

Even amid this frantic rotation peril, his respiration stayed eerily even.

Peering through the fractured windshield, the exterior realm twisted inverted.

The Silver Wing Building's glassy facade rushed past, sharply mirroring the trailing smoke from the body.

Blinding neon lights streaked, gales roared.

The urban clamor seemed utterly remote in that instant.

The full chopper, bearing the alive and the deceased alike, twisted earthward like a dive straight into infernal depths.

In the meantime, down below at the Silver Wing Building's base on the plaza.

The Professor tilted his head skyward, his dark-rimmed glasses catching the hurtling shadow's immense form.

Next to him, Xiao Ya pressed a hand to her lips, her slender lashes quivering fiercely.

"That is..."

Xiao Ya's words caught in her throat.

"Step back!"

The Professor moved swiftly, seizing Xiao Ya's wrist and yanking her behind a far-off concrete support.

Boom——

A deafening blast cut off every cry of surprise.

Tons of metallic wreckage slammed violently into the square's central fountain basin.

A terrifying blast wave, laced with jagged metal bits and flaming jet fuel, ravaged everything within scores of meters in a flash.

Marble tiles cracked apart, decorative trees snapped midway up their trunks.

Nearby parked cars wailed their sirens, some even toppled by the force.

Folks on the far-off road froze in horror, gawking toward the site.

A few shrieked and bolted, but most whipped out their mobiles, thrilled to capture the rising fireball cloud.

Luckily, the late hour spared any civilian casualties from this chopper's demise.

Fire raged, thermal gusts billowed.

From the inferno hot enough to warp metal, a rhythmic tread abruptly sounded.

Squeak, squeak, squeak.

The blaze acted with a mind of its own, splitting aside to clear a path.

A towering silhouette, treading over the cherry-glow shards strewn across the surface, emerged gradually.

He stood bare from head to toe, clad solely in crimson trunks.

Amber fires danced along his chiseled muscular contours.

Like something hammered in a forge, radiating an immense aura of power.

Spots of it still bore clinging burning liquid.

Yet he ignored them, nonchalantly swiping them off like mere grit, snuffing the blaze.

That raw, potent allure paired with the eerie, menacing Evil Ghost Mask created a disturbing yet captivating savage charm.

After a handful of paces, the amber fires cloaking him faded away.

Backlit by the smoldering chopper ruins' glow, his flawless hide bore no scorch marks, not a single blemish.

"This... how can this be?"

Xiao Ya's wide doe eyes stared, her thoughts wiped clean.

Plummeting from hundreds of meters high, right in the blast's heart, and unscathed?

The Professor drew a sharp inhale, wrestling down his astonishment.

He advanced promptly, his eyes flicking momentarily to the mask, and inquired gravely:

"Chairman, is the operation complete?"

Fang Cheng kept moving, his sight scanning the swelling onlookers, tone even:

"Prepare, we leave at once."

With that, his form blurred, channeling force through his legs.

He shot forward nimbly like a lizard, straight for the Silver Wing Building's glassy exterior.

Clinging with limbs to the frame's metal struts, each push launched him more than ten meters higher.

Beneath the amazed stares of witnesses, he vanished into the rooftop shadows after mere bounds.

Up on the rooftop platform.

The Illuminati's three operatives, who had been concealed by the entrance, now huddled at the parapet's brink, glancing below.

They'd plainly viewed the catastrophic impact just prior.

"Wow..."

Fatty Hu gulped, eyeing the fiery expanse below and the swift climber on the wall, admiration shining:

"Did the Chairman truly conquer that beast?"

At his side, Fei Ying appeared just as dazed, jaw dropped wide as if to swallow an egg.

Mere minutes earlier, they'd seen Fang Cheng endure the armed chopper's brutal barrage, then vault aboard like a deity to clash hand-to-hand with the foe.

The cascade of masterful moves far surpassed their grasp of superhuman skirmishes.

"Looks like I've latched onto the correct leader at last..."

Old Chen whispered to himself, his clutch on the rail quaking faintly.

His mind churned like a tempest, hard to settle.

As he muttered, the bare-handed ascender vaulted like an eagle, effortlessly clearing the parapet to touch down solidly before them.

"Chairman!"

The trio jolted, snapping to attention.

Their view of Fang Cheng had shifted from mighty figure to divine entity.

Fang Cheng removed his mask, surveying the area:

"Where's Eagle Eye?"

"He's heading to the security hub below."

Old Chen hurried up, briefing:

"He mentioned all footage from tonight in the structure has to be wiped, and the drives smashed for good."

Fang Cheng nodded, inwardly commending.

That's the mark of a pro, anticipating steps without prompts.

"Clear the area, time to depart."

Then, eyeing the disordered surroundings, he furrowed his brow:

"The earlier uproar was excessive; cops will swarm shortly."

"Yes!"

Old Chen and Fei Ying wasted no time, diving into tidying efforts.

Yet issues arose swiftly.

The surface bore gore from the prior clashes, from Illuminati folks, Bloodthorn Mercs, and Flying Crane thugs alike.

Should authorities sample that blood, it might unmask them all.

Lacking mops, the pair shed their tops, vainly smearing at the mess with dismal results.

Fang Cheng retrieved the backpack from the condenser unit's rear, observing their efforts, shook his head.

Far too sluggish.

His eyes darted about, settling on the towering steel reservoirs dotting the platform, sparking a notion.

He stooped, gathering several concrete chunks the size of fists.

Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!

His limb whipped repeatedly, sending the pieces hurtling like projectiles.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

With a string of resounding metallic detonations, the bases of four vast containers were breached in turn.

Whoa-la-la—

More than ten tons of pure liquid poured forth, morphing into a deluge that flooded the whole rooftop.

The surging flow scoured the floor, flushing away all crimson traces, flesh scraps, and ash into the drains.

Within thirty seconds, the platform gleamed spotless, save for corpses and dampness.

Fei Ying and Old Chen halted, beholding the spectacle, sharing a look that screamed "awed."

Straightforward, ruthless, effective.

Just then, Fatty Hu hauled a figure from the shadows, querying:

"Chairman, what to do with this guy?"

Fang Cheng peered down.

The captive sported vivid scarlet locks; it was Fire Dragon, the last Bloodthorn survivor.

Fate had dealt him harshly.

During the chopper's wild barrage earlier, though not ground zero, shards and rubble had riddled him.

At least three gory punctures oozed from him, his gasps faint, teetering on death's edge.

Meeting Fang Cheng's icy stare, Fire Dragon quaked, his will to live yanked him alert, extending a gore-smeared palm to clutch Fang Cheng's leg:

"Save... save me..."

He hacked up crimson while begging:

"I know the Masked Guest’s account codes... I oversaw that cash... it's a hidden offshore fund..."

"If you spare me... the funds... all yours..."

Fang Cheng arched a brow.

As an S-Class powerhouse, the Masked Guest's wealth had to be substantial.

"Grab him."

Fang Cheng directed Old Chen:

"Afterward, locate a trustworthy underground medic; his survival's on him now."

"Got it."

Old Chen wordlessly hoisted Fire Dragon like luggage over his back.

Woooo—woooo—

Piercing cop wails echoed from afar on the avenue, drawing nearer.

Fang Cheng's focus sharpened, casting a last glance at the battle-scarred zone, gesturing decisively:

"Withdraw!"