Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 118 Frozen Hands
Anton glanced at the corpse, said nothing, but wiped his nose as if to drive away the lingering smell of blood in the air.

“Let’s go,” he said, waving his hand. “Let’s check the truck first.”

Not far away, members of Group A were carrying out an execution.

Gunshots rang out sporadically, occasionally interspersed with desperate pleas for mercy.

Anton had only taken a few steps when he stopped again.

“Oh, right,” he said, turning his head as if he had suddenly remembered something, “leave the gun behind.”

Zhou Yi raised an eyebrow slightly, choosing not to ask any further questions.

He took the rifle off his back and handed it to the man next to him.

Then, he pulled out a pistol, removed the magazine, and emptied the barrel in front of everyone.

Seeing how readily he cooperated, Anton felt somewhat uneasy, but remembering Igor's orders, he forced himself to explain:

"Listen, cough, it's not directed at you. It's just, uh, the situation here is a bit more complicated."

"Of course, that's perfectly understandable."

Zhou Yi's tone was sincere, and he even had a slight smile on his face.

Great attitude.

This made Anton even more awkward.

So, he lowered his head and thought for a few seconds, then said with slight hesitation, "How about this, I won't take the gun either."

As he spoke, he took off his rifle and casually rested it against the wall next to him.

"It's just a formality, and it's not directed at anyone."

Even so, the three men following behind them still carried guns.

Anton didn't look back, nor did he suggest that they lay down their weapons as well.

The wind gradually stopped.

The truck was at the end of the slope not far away.

We stopped behind a newly erected steel plate defensive line.

The group stopped at the back of the truck, and Anton knocked on the cargo door.

"Fahd, Sergei, come here."

As he spoke, he grabbed the metal handrail and entered the carriage first.

Zhou Yi followed closely behind, walking with an easy pace.

Finally, the man named Sergei, holding a gun, slowly climbed up after confirming that everything was alright outside.

The structure of the carriages was similar to what had been previously speculated.

Ten sealed warheads are arranged on steel rails on both sides, with the numbers facing outwards.

Cooling pipes that were not connected to electricity were still hanging from the top of the cabin, and shock-absorbing mats were laid on the ground.

Anton walked at the front, carefully checking the numbers.

“It’s not ours,” he said softly, as if talking to himself.

"It's the standard procedure, the Northern Fleet designation, transferred from Murmansk."

Zhou Yi followed silently behind, creating a distance of about two meters between them.

Sergei remained on the outer edge.

Leaning against the metal frame, he observed the situation inside from the side, holding the gun in his hand without raising it.

A few minutes later, Anton reached the deepest part of the carriage.

He crouched down and carefully peeled off the seal on a transport tube.

Zhou Yi glanced at the number on it, then turned around again to confirm Sergei's location.

The time is almost ripe.

“Anton,” Zhou Yi suddenly spoke up, “I think there’s something wrong with this group.”

"Which one?" Anton asked without looking up.

"The fourth one from the left."

As Zhou Yi spoke, he moved a little closer, saying, "There's a problem with the serial number."

Anton frowned and paused for a moment.

He didn't get up immediately; instead, he carefully covered the edges of the sticker back up.

Zhou Yi did not urge him.

He simply took a step forward.

Another step.

We're a bit closer now.

Too close.

At this moment, Anton finally realized something and turned his head slightly.

"you--"

However, he only managed to utter the first syllable.

The next second, Zhou Yi pressed against her. Her left hand lifted her chin, while her right hand gripped the back of her neck.

With a sudden sinking of the body, the waist and hips exert force, twisting violently in the opposite direction.

"Click."

The sound of a dislocated neck is extremely faint.

Anton shuddered and instinctively reached out, but it was too late.

Zhou Yi put the body down, pressed his knee against the waist, and pushed it into the gap between the warhead and the bulkhead.

Then, he casually straightened his sleeves and took two steps toward the edge of the carriage, moving slowly.

"Sergei," Zhou Yi said in a low voice when they got a little closer, "come and help me out."

"What's wrong?" Sergei asked uncertainly.

"Anton has found our target, but there might be something wrong with the supplies."

Upon hearing this, Sergei walked over, quickly scanning the area but finding nothing amiss.

"Where is he?" he asked.

“He’s at the very back.” Zhou Yi’s tone remained unchanged. “It’s darker there, so he crouched down.”

Sergei hesitated for half a second, then, still holding his rifle horizontally, headed deeper into the area.

He walked around the control cylinder, leaned forward, and tried hard to find the figure that had "crouched down".

"Where did things go wrong?" he asked casually.

"The information on the seal is on your right."

Sergei stopped, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and crouched down.

Zhou Yi also moved closer.

The shadow blocked the light overhead, and Sergei suddenly felt a sense of unease.

This is not normal.

His heart skipped a beat, and he was about to react.

But it was too late.

Zhou Yi pulled Anton up from the ground.

At the same time, he drew the short knife from behind his waist with his left hand.

The sharp blade pierced through the left rib, angled upwards along the pericardium, and went straight into the lung lobe.

Sergei froze instantly, his fingers gripping Zhou Yi's clothes tightly.

He tried to call out, but no sound came out; it was as if the air was stuck deep in his throat.

The color drained from his face, and his lips trembled incessantly.

Zhou Yi did not let go immediately, but instead pushed forward, forcefully shoving him toward the transport cylinder.

The short knife sank in half an inch further due to inertia, leaving only the hilt wrapped in tape pressed against the skin.

Sergei's eyes widened, and he began to convulse uncontrollably.

He grabbed Zhou Yi's arm, making one last attempt to pull hard.

She scratched a few shallow marks on the other person's cuff with her fingernail, then released the grip completely.

It has lost its vitality.

Zhou Yi stood still, adjusted his breathing, and dragged him to Anton's body.

Then, he bent down and pulled out the knife.

Blood slid down the cold metal, which he wiped clean with Sergei's sleeve and hid inside.

The train carriage doors were still closed.

Zhou Yi gently twisted the latch, opening a crack.

The wind started blowing again on the platform.

The two men who had been with him were still standing there, tilting their heads back and smoking.

Seeing Zhou Yi come out, and not noticing anything amiss, she casually asked, "Is he still inside?"

"Yes." Zhou Yi nodded. "This is of great importance, so we need to be even more careful in verifying it."

As he spoke, he climbed down the ladder, took out a cigarette, and put it in his mouth.

"I'm going out for some fresh air," Zhou Yi said, lighting a fire, taking a drag, his movements extremely natural.

The person closest to him gestured with his lip.

"Tell him to hurry up, this wind is so weird, it makes my scalp tingle if I stand here for too long."

Zhou Yi smiled and agreed, then walked around the front wheel of the truck and reached out to hold the door handle of the driver's seat.

No one noticed him.

Half of the operatives gathered around the train.

The rest were mostly on guard around the perimeter.

The man who had just spoken to him was bending down to stub out his cigarette and didn't look in his direction a second time.

(End of this chapter)