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Chapter 550 The Art of Death: A Stealthy Backstab

The echoes of the gunshots were quickly swallowed up by the gale.

The bright red blood quickly spread across the cement floor.

Only then did everyone realize with horror that...

What just happened was hardly an ordinary bullet shooting.

It's clearly the Grim Reaper's scythe!

"This...how is this possible? Bullets can curve?!"

The remaining Flying Crane Gang gunmen were terrified, and the previously tightly positioned encirclement instantly descended into chaos.

However, the hunters lurking in the darkness did not give them a chance to catch their breath.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Three more gunshots rang out in quick succession.

Every flash of gunfire was accompanied by an incredibly bizarre bullet trajectory.

The bullets crisscrossed the air, forming a deadly web that bypassed cover, slipped through gaps, and precisely pierced the heads or hearts of their targets.

In less than five seconds, before anyone was seen, gunshots rang out.

The eleven elite members of the Flying Crane Gang who were originally guarding the rooftop fell into pools of blood without any power to fight back, just like harvested wheat.

The whole process was breathtakingly fast, like a brutal art performance of death.

"Damn it! It's an Inhuman sniper!"

Black Mamba covered the wound on his face, having activated his ability the instant the second gunshot rang out.

A strange ripple appeared on his dark skin, and light was distorted and refracted around him.

In the blink of an eye, the person seemed to melt into the air, their form rapidly fading until they completely disappeared.

Fire Dragon, as a firepower specialist, also demonstrated extremely high combat skills.

He reacted with lightning speed, rolling sideways and lunging behind the massive water tank before quickly climbing to the top to gain the high ground.

Judging from the current situation, his actions are absolutely the wisest choice.

After all, even if the opponent can control the trajectory of the bullet, overcoming the influence of gravity is dozens of times more difficult than making the bullet turn.

The masked man, who had been observing coldly from the sidelines, remained completely still throughout.

His eyes, hidden behind the mask, were narrowed to slits as he observed the enemy lurking in the shadows, making his assessment.

This unconventional marksmanship and precise control over bullet trajectory must be some kind of mental enhancement ability.

In addition to this, one must also possess abilities similar to omniscience or X-ray vision.

Otherwise, the sniper hiding inside the doorway would have no way of observing the Flying Crane Gang members scattered around the rooftop.

The fact that the other side took out the armed targets first clearly indicated that they were wary of the deadly threat posed by indiscriminate gunfire.

This indicates that the visitor's physical defenses are not high; in fact, they could be described as fragile.

"so……"

The masked man's mind raced, and in an instant, he came up with a solution to break the deadlock.

Seeing that the few remaining gunmen were about to be killed, he didn't wait for them to fire again, but decisively pointed forward and shouted:
"Big Bear! Charge!"

"Roar--"

The bear, which could no longer suppress its bloodlust, let out a deafening roar.

He sprang to his feet, his muscles bulging like rocks, and took heavy steps.

It was like a heavy tank, charging headlong into that dark doorway.

The masked man's eyes gleamed, and the corners of his mouth turned up.

Since we can't dodge those bizarre bullets, we'll just have to use this invulnerable body to take them down and crush them with overwhelming force.

Snapped!
The cement floor cracked instantly when the foot stomped down heavily.

Just as the bear's mountain-like body blocked the doorway...

boom!boom!
The flames blazed once more.

Two bullets flew out of the darkness one after the other, as if they had a mind of their own, and whizzed past the bear's armpit and groin.

Then it drew two tricky arcs, splitting to the left and right, heading straight for the rear.

"Uh--"

The last four gunmen who were searching for cover all froze, and almost simultaneously a bloody hole appeared between their eyebrows before they slumped to the ground.

At this point, the Flying Crane Gang's elite forces were completely wiped out!

"Roar!"

At that moment, the enraged bear, with its overwhelming force, forced its way into the doorway.

Those large, fan-like hands, accompanied by the sound of tearing through the air, fiercely grabbed at the sniper hiding in the darkness.

"Gotcha! You rat!"

He grinned, and thick saliva dripped down his face, as if he had already tasted fresh flesh and blood.

However, just as the bear was about to catch the hidden target...

"Go away!"

A similarly rough and violent roar exploded from the depths of darkness.

Immediately afterwards, a tall and imposing figure appeared in the shadows.

Faced with the bear's terrifying attack, this person showed no intention of retreating.

Instead, it resembled a savage beast, using its back shoulder as a shield, charging headlong with unstoppable momentum.

"Boom-"

A dull thud echoed across the rooftop.

The commotion was so great that it was as if two giant granite blocks had crashed together.

The terrifying recoil caused a visible shockwave to ripple through the surrounding air.

To the astonishment of the Fire Dragon and Black Mamba, the muscular monster Great Bear, renowned for its strength and defense, was actually forced back two steps by the force of the impact.

It is evident that the opponent's strength is equally terrifying, enough to withstand this humanoid monster head-on, and perhaps even be no more powerful than it.

"Big Bear, step back first!"

Seeing this, the masked man, out of caution, immediately summoned the monster blocking the door back to his side.

The bear growled reluctantly and retreated heavily back to the iron cage.

He was like a demon guarding treasure, his eyes fixed on the entrance, wary of any intruder.

The burly figure that appeared in the doorway quickly retreated back into the dark and secluded stairwell.

The rooftop fell into a brief silence once again.

The fierce wind was still howling, making the huge metal logo creak and groan.

The stark white LED lights illuminated the corpses and blood scattered on the ground.

If you ignore the scenes of fighting, those terrifying few seconds would seem as if they never happened.

The fire dragon crouched atop the water tank, two balls of orange-red flame rising from its palms, ready to retaliate at any moment.

In the shadows of the corner not far away, the air showed an eerie, wavy pattern.

That was Black Mamba in stealth mode, the cold light reflecting off the dagger in his hand appearing and disappearing with the ripples.

"friend."

The masked man stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the dark entrance to the rooftop through his mask:
"Now that you're here, why hide your true colors?"

He spoke first, breaking the silence.

However, the hallway remained quiet, with only the whistling sound of the wind blowing in.

Seeing that the other party did not intend to respond, the Masked Man was not annoyed. After a pause, he continued:
"If you want to save someone, hiding inside like a coward won't do you any good."

"You should know that the military helicopters that will pick us up will be here soon."

His tone was somewhat nonchalant, yet full of threat.

“If you can’t defeat us before reinforcements arrive, I’ll have to send these baskets of goods away right in front of you.”

"Perhaps, you will all have to stay as well."

This tactic clearly worked.

After a long pause, a roguish chuckle suddenly echoed from the darkness:
"Hehe, it would be impolite to refuse the master's invitation." As the voice rang out, four figures walked out of the dark stairwell and were exposed to the glaring rooftop lights.

They all wore nylon bandit masks, with only their eye openings showing, making them look quite fierce.

Leading the way was a bald, muscular man, only slightly smaller than Big Bear, wearing a black vest stretched taut by his muscles and a thick gold chain around his neck.

On the right is a tall, slender young man wearing a baseball cap, with his hands in his pockets, looking rather nonchalant.

Beside these two men was a man of medium build wearing an old black jacket, who looked rather inconspicuous in comparison.

The last person was a guy who exuded a cold and aloof aura.

He held a heavily modified large-caliber sniper rifle in his hand, the barrel still glowing slightly red and emitting wisps of smoke.

They are the four new members of the Illuminati: Fat Tiger, Flying Shadow, Old Chen, and Hawkeye.

The moment these four appeared, the previously tense atmosphere became somewhat delicate.

Fei Ying's gaze swept over the corpses lying on the ground, and he whistled loudly:

"Wow, I didn't know until I saw it, and I was shocked. Hawkeye, your marksmanship is truly amazing. You've pierced a whole bunch of candied hawthorns."

Judging from his accent, he was the one who responded to the masked man inside.

Fat Tiger shrugged and then offered his opinion:

"It's mainly because Old Chen and Eagle Eye work together so well. They're like a 360-degree, all-weather reconnaissance radar. They can even pinpoint the positions of these bastards through the wall. It's amazing!"

Old Chen smiled somewhat reservedly and replied modestly:
"It's just a minor trick. Brother Fat Tiger's charge just now was really powerful. He managed to push back that mutated behemoth. I was watching from the back and my blood was boiling."

Fat Tiger grinned widely, a smug look on his face.

As he spoke, he kept rubbing his shoulder muscles with his right hand.

It seemed that the hard collision had left half of his body feeling sore and numb, and he hadn't fully recovered yet.

Hawkeye did not participate in their mutual business praise.

He was like a cold rock, his hand holding the sniper rifle motionless.

Through the piercings of the mask, a sharp glance swept across the area, instantly locking onto the "goods" in the iron cage in the center of the rooftop.

When he saw the disheveled but still alive old man, he breathed a slight sigh of relief and whispered a reminder to his companion:
"Target confirmed, person still alive."

Everyone had now seen Shen Wei imprisoned in a cage, whose appearance and age perfectly matched the description in the intelligence file.

"It's good that you're still alive. If you die, our first mission will have failed, and we won't have the face to face the other elders in the organization."

Fat Tiger chuckled, put his hands on his hips, swaggered forward, and raised his chin at the Masked Man:
"Hey, you wearing a mask and pretending to be a ghost, listen up."

"I'm the top thug of the East City Gang. If you know what's good for you, release them and then kneel down and kowtow three times. Maybe if I'm in a good mood, I can even leave you with a whole corpse."

These words were extremely arrogant, completely following Fang Cheng's instructions before the operation: the more imposing the words, the better, and the bigger the commotion, the better.

"East City Club?"

Before the masked man could reply, a sharp, mocking laugh echoed through the air.

"With just a bunch of trash like you? If the East City Gang really had that kind of ability, we wouldn't have slaughtered you like pigs and dogs."

"Bald guy, if you don't want that bragging tongue of yours, I can cut it off for you."

Black Mamba, who was hiding in the corner, was enraged by Fat Tiger's arrogant words, and his voice drifted out in an unsteady manner.

"Hey? Who's talking?"

Fat Tiger dramatically picked at his ear, looked around blankly, and asked Hiei next to him:

"Did someone just fart? I don't see anyone there."

Fei Ying understood immediately, smiled, and replied cooperatively:

"Brother Tiger, you're really ignorant. This is the legendary Turtle's Kung Fu."

"People who practice this skill are probably too ugly to frighten the flowers and plants, so they can only hide in the air and dare not see people."

"I've also heard that there's a total loser in the Bloodthorn Mercenary Group, codenamed 'Black Mamba.' I think the person who just spoke is probably him."

"Black Mamba?"

Fat Tiger scratched his bald head and asked, feigning confusion:
"Are you sure this name is correct? I think 'Blackie' would be more imposing."

As he spoke, he raised his chin and shouted towards the direction of the voice:

"Hey, Blackie, if you want to cut off my tongue, show yourself! Or are you afraid I'll sit on you and kill you?"

"court death!"

A transparent ripple suddenly appeared in the air at the corner of the wall, carrying a sharp killing intent.

Clearly, Black Mamba was so enraged by the mixed doubles attack that he couldn't help but retaliate.

"enough!"

The masked man coldly interrupted this pointless verbal sparring.

He could tell that although these people were frivolous with their words, they were extremely particular about their positioning.

The bald, burly man was at the very front, while the young man wearing a baseball cap hovered to the side.

The two men shielded the jacket-clad man with extraordinary sensory abilities in the middle.

As for the snipers, they occupied the best shooting positions on the reverse slope.

This is definitely a well-coordinated team of superhuman combatants.

"Since this battle is unavoidable, let's stop talking nonsense."

The Masked Man snorted coldly, slowly raised his right hand, and beckoned with his finger:

"You want to save people? Sure, let's see what you've got."

As he spoke, it seemed as if an invisible spiritual fluctuation was gathering.

The wind around them grew heavy, and the air pressure suddenly dropped.

The members of the Illuminati became solemn and tense.

The Bloodthorn Mercenary Group members on the opposite side also occupied advantageous positions and were ready for battle.

A silent tension simmered between the two groups, ready to erupt at any moment.

"Then let's see what these so-called top mercenary groups are really made of!"

Fat Tiger grinned, clasped his hands together, and cracked his knuckles.

Just as he was about to make his move, he suddenly caught a glimpse of something unusual happening outside the railing on the east side of the rooftop.

A familiar dark figure peeked out like a ghost, then quickly disappeared into the night sky.

Fat Tiger's eyes darted around, and he immediately understood.

He whirled around, pointed at the muscular monster guarding the iron cage, and roared:

"Hey, you big bear! You just rammed into me and my bones are cracking. Tonight I'm going to tear you to pieces!"

"Come on, let's have a good practice tonight and see who's stronger!"

With that, he took big strides and charged towards the bear.

"Watch out on your left! Seven o'clock!"

Old Chen suddenly shouted a warning in a low voice.

Before the words were even finished, the air half a meter to the left of Fat Tiger suddenly distorted, producing a fluctuation that was barely perceptible to the naked eye.

Immediately afterwards, a dark face with scars vaguely appeared.

"go to hell!"

With a venomous growl, Black Mamba gripped the dagger in reverse, and with a piercing whistling sound, thrust it straight at Fat Tiger's back like a viper's tongue.

This attack was as fast as lightning and impossible to defend against; it was his most effective killing move—a stealthy backstab.

The blade was sharp and ready to slice through Fat Tiger's thick neck and sever his carotid artery.

"Zheng——"

A piercing clang of metal suddenly rang out.

A dazzling burst of sparks suddenly erupted from the darkness.

Suddenly, another butterfly knife, gleaming with cold light, appeared out of nowhere, precisely blocking Black Mamba's deadly attack.

"Hey, Blackie, your opponent is me!"

Feiying appeared beside Panghu at some point, blocking the dagger attack with one hand and looking at him with a mocking expression.

(End of this chapter)