I searched and fought in America.

Just as Rosen crouched down, preparing to enter the office building using his grappling hook, some sounds from afar caught his attention.

Looking up, I saw four guards handing over their duties to another four guards in front of a small door at the back of the office building.

The guard squad, finally free, seemed a little relaxed. One of them muttered a few words to his companion before heading towards a separate toilet a dozen meters away.

Rosen narrowed his eyes slightly, a plan forming in his mind. He put the grappling hook into his backpack, then carefully and quietly made his way through some obstacles to quickly approach the four people.

He quickly stopped, because there was an area of ​​about 5 or 6 meters without any obstacles between him and the toilet.

By passing through this area, Rosen will be taking a great risk!

Twenty or thirty seconds had passed since the guard entered the restroom. Most people only need a minute to use the restroom, so he had no time to hesitate!

Rosen stared intently at the three men, who were gathered together smoking cigarettes and chatting jokingly, seemingly discussing something interesting. They all looked at one of the men, a man with a scar on his face.

opportunity!

Rosen charged straight ahead, covering the five-meter distance in a few large strides, and darted into the toilet. The entire process was completed in one or two seconds.

With the addition of silent insoles, the noise produced during the process is negligible.

Outside the door, a guard who had been looking down at his phone seemed to sense something was wrong. He looked up in confusion and gazed in the direction of the restroom.

"Hey, did you hear that?" He nudged his companion with his elbow.

The other man, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, squinted at the quiet toilet, from which he could faintly hear the sound of water splashing against the toilet bowl.

"What could be wrong? That bear guy pees like a floodgate is open, I'm so sleepy, when is that pesky thing coming out?"

The man smiled indifferently.

The guard scratched his head, perhaps he had misheard, and then ignored him.

Inside the restroom, Lawson leaned against the wall, his heart pounding. This was so exciting!

The toilet was dark, with only a small window high up letting in some moonlight.

But for Rosen, even with just this little bit of light, he could easily determine the general situation in the entire house.

It was a squat toilet, and it smelled terrible. He saw a man urinating, and after he finished, he shook his hand twice.

Rosen drew his military dagger from his waist, preparing to move closer and kill the other man, but then his movement shifted slightly.

The sight of blood from a dagger in this confined space is difficult to dissipate quickly, potentially leading to irreversible consequences.

So Rosen tucked the dagger back into his waistband and slowly crept toward the man.

The black man in the guard uniform had just pulled up his pants when a hand suddenly covered his mouth and nose from behind. Before the man could even cry out, Rosen punched him hard in the temple.

A dull thud, accompanied by a faint cracking sound, caused the guard's eyes to bulge and his body to go limp.

Rosen didn't stop. He grabbed the other man's head and twisted it violently. Crack! A dull sound of bones breaking echoed in the toilet, and the guard's convulsions stopped completely.

Rosen gently laid the body down on the ground, dragged it to the innermost cubicle, and made him sit in the corner.

You have killed a Fang Gang factory guard (normal).

The system notification flashed by, but Rosen didn't have time to look at it closely. He directly put the small wooden box that had appeared on the corpse into his system space.

He quickly stripped off the guard's uniform jacket and pants and put them on himself.

The uniform was a little tight, but still wearable. He pulled out half a pack of cigarettes, a plastic lighter, and a factory ID card and matching metal ID tag hanging around the other person's neck from their pocket.

The name field is printed with "Bear", and below the number is the dormitory area: 061.

Just then, an impatient shout came from outside the toilet: "Hey! Big Bear! Are you fucking giving birth in the toilet? It's been so long!"

This was the voice of one of his companions, and judging from the footsteps, the other person was getting closer and closer, eventually reaching the door of the cubicle.

Rosen mimicked the trembling sound squeezed from the throat during defecation, shouting towards the door:

"Fuck... I have an upset stomach... I'll be right there..."

Then, a series of curses and swears came from outside the door:

"Lazy donkeys on the millstone produce lots of shit and pee! Alright, we're going back to the dorm now. You can come back yourself when you're done!"

"I understand..." Rosen continued to respond in a "weak" voice.

Only after the footsteps outside the door faded away and disappeared did Rosen finally breathe a sigh of relief.

He waited quietly in the cubicle for another five or six minutes, making sure there was no more movement outside, before straightening his guard uniform, pushing open the toilet door, and walking out naturally.

Holding his identification tag, he walked calmly toward the side wing of the office building where the dormitory area was located.

As he passed a corner along the way, he happened to come close to a small gray treasure chest hidden in a pile of weeds.

[Treasure chest found.]

Rosen paused almost imperceptibly, a hint of longing in his heart.

But he quickly regained his composure; now was not the time to open the box.

Any unusual pause could attract attention, so he forced himself to look away and continued walking toward the room marked "061".

Using "Big Bear's" ID card to open the dormitory door, a stench of tobacco mixed with alcohol and sweat hit me.

There were four bunk beds in the room. Snoring could be heard from the two lower bunks, while the upper bunk was completely silent.

Only on the lower bunk near the door, a Black man with a hideous scar on his face was leaning against a pillow playing on his phone.

Rosen walked in with his head down, heading straight for the empty lower bunk at the far end of the room, trying to minimize his presence.

"What's wrong, Xiong? You're exhausted from diarrhea?" The scarred man asked casually without even looking up, his finger still swiping across the screen.

Rosen didn't answer immediately, but just gave a vague "hmm" and continued walking inside.

He needs to get close to his "bed" first to observe the situation.

His unusual silence aroused some suspicion in the scarred man.

The scarred man looked up and casually shone the light from his phone screen towards Rosen, trying to gauge his companion's expression.

It all happened in that split second!

Using the backlight of his phone, the scarred man saw Rosen's profile.

Although Rosen deliberately wore black makeup, the face was definitely not the "Big Bear" he was familiar with!

The scarred man's pupils suddenly contracted, and he was about to cry out in alarm as he pulled a weapon out of his pillow!

But Rosen reacted even faster than him!

The dagger was inserted into the scarred man's throat from the lower right side upwards, severing his trachea and vocal cords.

Rosen's left hand almost simultaneously covered the other person's mouth and nose, trying to prevent them from making a sound as much as possible.

The scarred man's eyes widened, his hands unconsciously reaching out to scratch Rosen, his face filled with fear.

Rosen remained expressionless, gripping the hilt of the dagger with his right hand, and then suddenly twisted his wrist!

All that could be heard was the sound of flesh and blood churning. The scarred man's scratching hands fell limply to his sides, while his legs continued to kick reflexively.

Clang.

His foot kicked an empty metal trash can next to the bed, causing it to tip over with a loud bang!

"Huh? Scarface? What's that noise?"

From the upper bunk near the door, a drowsy, sleepy voice rang out, accompanied by the occasional sound of someone turning over.