Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 221 DJI
Ten o'clock in the morning.

Northern section of Kasongo Avenue.

The weather was hot and humid, the ground was cracked, and moisture seemed to be rising from under the asphalt.

The woman stood next to the gray SUV, wearing a fisherman's hat and polarized sunglasses.

"Gentlemen, that was just a panoramic view of the city; it didn't contain any sensitive elements," she explained with a helpless expression.

Three men dressed in local military police uniforms surrounded the area.

They were all quite young, in a relaxed state, and their shoes were not standard leather shoes, but muddy Adidas knock-offs.

One of them was carrying the woman's backpack and roughly rummaging through it.

The woman frowned as she watched the dirty hand touch her lens cap, spare battery, and toilet paper, barely managing to hold back her anger.

She turned to the older Black man and said, "Sir, I work for the news station and need to film some urban buildings to complete a task. There is no malice intended."

Upon hearing this, the man curled the corners of his mouth, his smile revealing contempt.

He slowly took out a cigarette, lit it, and then blew smoke into the woman's face.

“Pas de problème. But your ID is not from Kinshasa.”

(No problem. But your documents are not from the local area.)
"Soyes, problem."

He spoke slowly, deliberately drawing out his words, and raised his right hand to twirl it.

Seeing this, the woman breathed a sigh of relief, took out a black coin purse from her chest, snapped it open, and pulled out three twenty-dollar bills.

The Black man took the banknotes, examined them one by one, turned them over, and then nodded at her.

The young man who was rummaging through the bag received the signal and stuffed everything back in.

"Don't let my boss see you again."

After saying that casually, the black man led his underlings away in a swagger.

One of them also grabbed a newly opened protein bar.

"Fuck the barbarians."

The woman muttered a curse under her breath. A few seconds later, she turned and got into the car, coldly ordering, "They're on guard. Come back tomorrow."

The driver nodded and was about to start the engine.

Sudden--

An Asian man pulled open the back seat and squeezed in.

The movement was so fast it was almost invisible; it seemed as if they had been hiding in the shadows all along, just waiting for this moment.

The woman froze, and before she could turn her head, the man in the driver's seat had already instinctively reached out and touched the outside of her thigh.

"do not move."

The Asian man flipped his right hand, and a black pistol appeared in his hand, which he pressed firmly against the back of the driver's head.

At the same time, he raised his left hand, the movement swift and decisive—

A dagger was suddenly plunged into the woman's lower left rib.

"what--!"

The woman gasped, her body jolting as if electrocuted, and slammed heavily against the car door.

Immediately afterwards, her upper body trembled violently, and tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.

Zhou Yi seized the opportunity and asked, "Now, tell me your identities, and who you work for?"

Just as the woman was about to shake her head, the hilt of the knife pressed lightly against her ribs again.

"Fuck you, you lunatic!"

Seeing that the time was right, Zhou Yi released his left hand and focused on controlling the driver.

Taking advantage of this opportunity to catch her breath, the woman tried to draw her knife.

Unfortunately, the moment she moved, a sharp pain shot through her ribs, almost causing her to faint.

"You're fucking insane. I'll fuck you."

The woman strained to utter curses through clenched teeth.

“Don’t delay,” Zhou Yi said calmly. “Two centimeters is the intercostal muscle, and three centimeters is the liver border. The blood loss isn’t that fast.”

"But in ten more seconds, you'll start to have trouble breathing."

"Fuck you. We're French journalists, fuck your mother's bastards."

"wrong answer."

Zhou Yi remained unmoved and turned to push the dagger in a little further.

The woman instantly curled up, like a dying insect struggling. Her driver companion couldn't bear to watch any longer and quietly turned aside, as if intending to do something.

Zhou Yi reacted quickly, shoving the gun barrel into his mouth, deep into his throat, causing him to gag.

The man immediately froze, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his eyes darting around in a panic.

"Time is passing, guys," Zhou Yi kindly reminded them.

The woman trembled, her entire body felt like it was on fire, and her consciousness began to fade.

A few seconds later, the driver finally broke down under the shock of the horrific scene before him.

He let out a few sobs, indicating that he was willing to confess, his shoulders heaving with each sob.

Seeing this, Zhou Yi pulled his pistol out a few inches and said, "Speak."

"We...we are not reporters." The man's Adam's apple bobbed, his heart pounded, and his speech was erratic.

"We are affiliated with the French Directorate General for External Security."

"Responsible for collecting ground image data."

"Be specific."

"Karabi Karabi signed a new agreement with the Americans, but the higher-ups aren't satisfied, so they're trying to gather intelligence beforehand."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yi couldn't help but sneer twice, and continued to ask, "What about the drone?"

The driver was taken aback.

"what?"

"Those little white guys that attracted the military police."

"Oh, those are ours. We bought them here. There are smuggled ones in the local market, twelve DJI drones."

"Do you French people also use counterfeit goods?"

The driver swallowed reflexively, nervously observing the driver's expression: "Your stuff is high-performing, cheap, and equipped with a high-frequency antenna; the technology is solid."

As he said this, he secretly glanced at the woman.

Blood flowed from his ribs into his waistband and soaked the seat beneath him.

The driver gritted his teeth and asked, forcing a smile, "Could you stop the bleeding? We mean no harm and promise not to move her."

“Sure.” Zhou Yi grinned. “Take me to your base first.”

After he finished speaking, the front row fell silent.

This time, the driver didn't respond. Instead, he hesitated and looked at his blood-covered companion.

The woman remained leaning there, her hair soaked, breathing weakly, one breath after another, her chest heaving rapidly, as if she were about to suffocate.

She raised her eyes and stared intently at the Asian man beside her, her gaze filled with pain, hatred, and a hint of indescribable contempt.

Zhou Yi waited for a while, then suddenly burst out laughing.

“You have your own agenda,” he said to the man. “Save her, or let her bleed to death beside you? And then be separated forever.”

The driver instinctively opened his mouth, but after hesitating several times, he still didn't dare to make a decision on his own.

He looked at the woman helplessly, and several times he couldn't help but feel despair and pity in his eyes.

Zhou Yi smiled slightly, as if he had expected this.

He stopped looking at him and reached out to grasp the wet, sticky hilt of the knife.

Just as he was about to exert force, the woman suddenly laughed, after a long silence.

Her voice was almost inaudible, yet it carried a certain sarcasm.

"Okay."

The woman's cheeks trembled uncontrollably, yet she still spoke, enunciating each word clearly:

"Aren't you fucking looking to die?"

"I'll take you there now."

"Pierre, drive."

After receiving permission, the driver eagerly turned the key and stepped on the gas.

The sky in the distance was gradually darkening, the clouds were hanging low, and a storm was brewing.

Zhou Yi lowered his head, typed a few lines on his phone, and sent it.

Then, he stared at the flustered driver and smiled meaningfully.

(End of this chapter)