Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 149: Taking the National Highway

Pete was a soldier.

It has been deployed multiple times in Afghanistan and Iraq.

My first time on the battlefield was in Fallujah.

He was not yet twenty-four years old at the time, and he was religious, disciplined, and dreamed about the Stars and Stripes.

But war can bring people to their senses.

Three IEDs, four ambushes, and one friendly fire incident kicked him from "passion" to "calmness".

Pete was thirty years old when he retired.

Physically, there are no problems; mentally, things are reasonably stable.

But he knew he could never go back to a normal life.

Police departments have tried it, and so have private military contractors.

In the end, however, he still followed his teammates and infiltrated the "assassin circle".

Of course, they never call themselves killers; they prefer to call themselves "cleaners."

Pete didn't refute it.

Because he doesn't care about the words.

He just does the work and then gets paid.

At this time, it was still dark and the traffic on the national highway was sparse.

In the distance, trucks occasionally roared past.

Pete sat in the passenger seat, holding a coffee cup with a worn-white cup sleeve.

They have been tracking cell phone signals for over two hours.

The direction is clear, but it always stays at a certain point that is neither too close nor too far.

"The location hasn't changed," the person in the back seat said in a low voice.

He was a technician, and also had a military background.

In his thirties, he had an old scar on his face that ran from his cheekbone to his jaw, making it look like he had been slashed.

“Continue,” Pete replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

The driver was a Black man.

Big guy, speaks slowly.

He likes hip-hop and also likes to write a few words on the back of his left hand with a red marker before taking action.

For example, words like "quickly" or "cleanly".

This time, he wrote "Don't hesitate".

at this time--

"Here it comes," the technician said, raising the tablet slightly. "400 mph, the target vehicle has drifted into the outer lane."

Upon hearing this, Pete immediately moved closer to the binoculars.

It was a dark-colored SUV, the license plate of which was obscured by mud and could not be seen clearly.

He adjusted his focus and saw that the driver's seat belonged to a woman with her hair up and wearing a gray coat.

That is undoubtedly the mission objective.

But the next second, he saw a shadow flicker a few times in the back window.

There were other people present.

Pete subconsciously furrowed his brow.

“There is a second person,” he said.

The technician also noticed and looked down at the data: "The employer only provided a name."

“That doesn’t mean she’s all alone,” Pete said coldly.

The Black man clicked his tongue: "Should we wait until they get out of the car before we make a move?"

at this time--

"Wait!" The technician patted the Black man on the shoulder. "She's turning the corner, hurry up and follow her."

Ahead, the SUV drove from the main road into the exit and turned onto a deserted rural road.

The mist lingered in layers among the trees.

The surrounding scenery seemed to be filtered through a lens.

"Don't you think this is a coincidence?"

The Black man chuckled as he turned the steering wheel, his deep voice carrying a relaxed tone, "It saves us the trouble of dealing with witnesses."

Pete didn't laugh.

My eyelid twitched slightly.

His intuition told him that something was wrong.

Pete trusted his intuition.

That was what allowed him to survive several dangerous situations.

So he raised the binoculars again.

The gray car continued to drive smoothly in the distance.

But this time, he saw it more clearly—the driver's seat belonged to a brown-haired woman, her left hand resting on the window.

Behind her sat a man who appeared to be wearing a mask.

Pete frowned.

A premonition grew stronger, to the point that my skin began to itch slightly.

He took a deep breath and focused again. This time, the man turned to the side, pushing something outwards.

A section of dark green cylinder with a handle.

The front part is slightly thicker, and the edge of the circle at the top is dyed light red.

and many more!

That's not a toy!
That is--

Pete instantly realized what was happening, his scalp tingling with fear, and he roared at the top of his lungs:

"Turn around—turn the hell around now!!"

"He has an AT4!! Turn around! Turn around—"

The black man jerked the steering wheel, and the car veered sharply to the side, but it was too late!

"boom!"

A beam of bright white flame shot out accompanied by a high-pressure airflow.

It was as if the whole world had been torn apart.

The heat was as intense as lightning, shattering the windshield.

The cockpit exploded first, and the black man's upper body evaporated into a bloody mist.

The hood was ripped off like a piece of paper, and as it tumbled in a spiral, it broke a nearby signpost.

The splashed gasoline was ignited.

The flames rose, illuminating half the sky.

The air suddenly became thick and filled with acrid, burnt smells.

"Are they dead?" Natalie asked.

Zhou Yi, carrying the transmitter, calmly said, "Stop the car."

Upon hearing this, Natalie quickly slammed on the brakes and pulled the car over to the side of the road.

"You just now..." She turned her head, but didn't finish her sentence.

Zhou Yi drew his pistol, pressed his index finger against the back of the slide, and tapped it against the edge of his belt to confirm that it was cocked.

"Wait for me in the car."

He got out of the car and walked toward the burning wreckage.

Minced meat was still hanging on the broken steel plate.

The liquid flowed down the car body, dripping onto the ground with a soft "plop" sound.

The two bodies lay almost conjoined beside the shattered rear axle, their internal organs spilling out, making them nearly unrecognizable.

The still-living man had multiple charred areas on his body and a collapsed chest cavity; he was slowly being dragged toward the bushes.

With each inch he moved forward, a sticky mark was left beneath him.

Zhou Yi took a few steps closer and looked down at the lump of flesh with intestines hanging out.

Hearing footsteps, the man turned his head with difficulty, a look of terror appearing on his bloodied and mangled face.

"Please wait. No."

His voice was hoarse and broken.

Blood bubbles kept gushing from his mouth.

"I--"

Before he could finish speaking, Zhou Yi pulled the trigger.

"boom!"

The bullet pierced his forehead.

The corpse twitched twice and then remained still.

Seeing this, Zhou Yi casually threw the AT4 into the rising flames, then took out half a bottle of ethanol mixture and sprinkled it on top.

When he returned to the passenger seat, Natalie's expression was somewhat complicated for some reason.

"Is everything resolved?" she asked.

“Yes.” Zhou Yi lowered his head, pulled back the slide of the pistol, ejected the bullet, reset it, and then put it back into the locker.

"."

The next second, Natalie walked right up to her.

It was a kiss tinged with blood.

Hasty, obsessed, frenzied.

“You’re like the kind of person from the Old Testament,” she murmured, “like Jeremiah, and like Jehu.”

"The messenger of destruction raises a torch before the gates of doom, rides over bones, and cleanses the homes of sinners."

“I grew up listening to my mother read those stories about the destruction of the world.”

"I'll understand when she dies."

"Horen will eventually give everyone to Moro."

“So, I’m not surprised now,” she said, leaning down and whispering, “Not at all.”

Zhou Yi paused for two seconds, then reached out and pushed **** away: "It's not the right time yet."

Natalie *******.

Zhou Yi sighed helplessly.

"Blair's speech is today, we need to get there early."

(End of this chapter)