You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Leon squinted, his finger on the trigger, and began to pre-press.

However, at this crucial juncture, the wound on his side, which had been roughly stuffed with a hemostatic dressing, suddenly erupted with a sharp, throbbing pain, followed by a strong sense of dizziness due to insufficient blood supply to the brain.

His willpower at 16 o'clock prevented him from fainting immediately, but it also affected his accuracy.

The green crosshairs in my field of vision jerked suddenly.

"Damn it..."

Leon bit his tongue, forcibly stimulating his nerves with pain in an attempt to steady the gun barrel.

The roaring viper seemed to feel, in that instant, the chill of being stared at by death.

That was his sixth sense, sharper than radar, honed through years of battlefield experience.

"!"

The viper didn't care whether its tactical movements were standard or not, and suddenly rolled to the side.

"Bang!"

Lyon pulled the trigger.

The shot, which should have pierced through the forehead, missed its mark due to the momentary dizziness and the opponent's dodge.

The bullet grazed the viper's neck and burrowed deep into his right shoulder.

"ah!!!"

Through the scope, one could see the entire right half of the viper's body spinning backward.

The immense kinetic energy of the 7.62 caliber rifle bullet tore his deltoid muscle and collarbone apart. Although his right arm was still connected by skin and flesh, the bones had obviously been shattered into pieces, and it hung limply down like a noodle.

He screamed and rolled under the vehicle. Although he didn't die immediately, as a commander and combatant, he was completely rendered useless.

"The commander has been shot; his right arm is ruined!"

Lyon yelled into the channel, "Harrison, push forward, cramp their space, they're finished!"

After saying that, he glanced at the M24 in his hand, whose magazine was already empty.

Without spare ammunition, this thing is just a fire poker now.

Without a second thought, Lyon casually tossed the sniper rifle, worth several hundred points, into the nearby bushes and grabbed the HK416 assault rifle he had brought with him.

"The rest of you, follow me!"

He slid down the slope and plunged into the chaotic battle of the rainy night.

……

On the other side of the battlefield's center.

In the back seat of that Cadillac that had been smashed to pieces.

The once arrogant Daryl King was now cowering in a ball, trembling with fear.

He heard the viper's heart-wrenching screams and saw the elite soldiers he had hired at great expense fall one by one.

"It's over...it's all over..."

Darlis gripped a Desert Eagle tightly in his hand, but the gun was so heavy that he couldn't lift it at all.

Desperately?

Charge out and exchange fire with those killing gods?

Stop joking!

Even a killing machine like Viper was crippled, and who knows, he might be executed by that crazy sniper. This gangster's son, who usually only bullies debtors, is just asking to die if he goes out!

I don't want to die... I don't want to die...

Darlis's mind raced in extreme fear, finally settling on an extremely shameful but effective idea.

Playing dead.

Yes, as long as I don't fire, as long as I lie here and don't move.

By the time the police cleared the scene, I was just an ordinary wounded person or someone who had surrendered.

Even though he might get arrested, even though that batch of goods is gone, his brother might be furious.

But as long as they survive and get into jail, with the expensive legal team the family has paid for, even if they get sentenced to ten or eight years, they can get medical parole after a few years if things are handled properly.

Even going to jail is better than becoming a rotten corpse in this rain!

Thinking of this, Darlis gritted his teeth and shoved the Desert Eagle, which he hadn't fired yet, under his seat.

Then, he smeared some blood from one of his dead subordinates next to him, haphazardly smeared it on his face, swayed, and fell into the crevice of the leather seat, tightly closing his eyes and holding his breath.

……

With the mercenary commander "Viper" lying in a pool of blood, his fate unknown, this brutal ambush in the rain finally came to an end.

Without their leader, the Blood Gang members completely collapsed.

The remaining few underlings, still breathing, saw the corpses scattered on the ground and the ACU team members pressing down on them like the Grim Reaper, and their mental defenses instantly crumbled.

They dropped their weapons, screamed, and scrambled into the dark ruins and alleyways, fleeing for their lives.

"Stop chasing! Be careful of an ambush!"

Harrison, clutching his bleeding forehead, yelled at several team members who were blinded by rage and wanted to chase after him.

The terrain here is too complicated. Even a rabbit will bite when cornered. It's not worth risking the lives of more brothers just to catch a few henchmen.

The battlefield was quickly brought under complete control by ACU.

Besides the two team members who were just shot dead, there were quite a few wounded.

Jacob was lying in the floodwater, his face pale, half of his shoulder soaked in blood, receiving emergency treatment.

Carlos, that slippery fellow, was lucky to survive; he only suffered a minor scrape on his arm from a stray bullet, and he's currently making a big fuss about bandaging it.

As for the few who were still standing...

What followed perfectly illustrated what it means to be surrounded by villains, and what the Seattle Police Department's sewers are all about.

No one cared about protecting the scene, and no one put up a cordon.

These rough men, who had just been struggling on the brink of death, now displayed astonishing teamwork and greed.

They quickly dispersed and began cleaning up the battlefield with rough movements.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry! Those FBI bastards in suits will be on the battlefield soon. Take as much as you can before then!"

A bearded team member kicked aside a Blood Gang corpse, skillfully pulled off the large gold watch that was still dripping blood from the man's wrist, and casually pulled a wad of blood-stained banknotes from the man's pocket, stuffing them into the lining of his tactical vest without even glancing at them.

The other side is even more ruthless.

A seemingly honest and unassuming team member, holding a pair of pliers, was squatting next to a dead drug dealer with a mouthful of gold teeth.

"Snap!"

That was the sound of metal breaking through the alveolar bone.

He forcefully pulled out those big gold teeth, rinsed them in the rain, and put them in his pocket.

To prevent the forensic doctor or the Ministry of Internal Affairs from discovering that the body had been tampered with, he immediately drew his pistol and, expressionless, shot the corpse in the face.

"Bang!"

Now look what happened, he's completely unrecognizable, only God knows if he had gold teeth in his lifetime.

Lyon watched this scene coldly without stopping it.

He had just promised a reward, and these people were genuinely risking their lives against the drug dealers. If he didn't give them some incentive, the team simply couldn't survive.

He carried the HK416 and limped toward the Cadillac parked in the middle of the road, riddled with holes.

He just noticed that there should be one last big fish here.

The car door opened, and a strong smell of blood and gunpowder hit the car.

In the back seat, a man with a blood-covered face, who looked completely dead, was lying there.