98: You want her on the plane...

The air in the cabin solidified.

The unlit cigarette in Zhao Dahai's mouth fell to the floor with a clatter.

He looked at Chen Mo as if he were looking at an incurable lunatic who had just escaped from a mental asylum.

"What the hell did you say?"

His voice was as hoarse as two rusty pieces of iron rubbing together.

"You want Nightingale... on the plane... to shoot another plane?"

"Crazy!"

"You're completely insane!"

He charged forward like an enraged lion, grabbing Chen Mo by the collar!

"Is this the time to play?!"

"There are two ships below! One plane! Over a thousand lives waiting for you to save!"

"Are you playing real-life CS with me here?!"

Su Qingxue's expression also changed.

"Chen Mo, calm down!"

"Our radar shows nothing! How do you know there's a plane below?!"

Chen Mo ignored them.

He didn't even look at Captain Zhao's bloodshot eyes, filled with anger.

His gaze calmly fell upon the woman who had remained silent all this time.

Nightingale didn't move.

Her empty eyes were also looking at him.

She was waiting.

Waiting for a reason that would convince her.

Or, an order that she would follow.

Chen Mo understood.

He slowly raised his hand and, one by one, pried Captain Zhao's iron-vice-like hand from his collar.

His movements were gentle, yet carried an undeniable force.

"Captain Zhao."

He spoke, his voice utterly calm.

"Arthur isn't giving us a multiple-choice question."

"He's... watching a show."

"He treats us like clowns on a stage, watching us suffer, watching us struggle, watching us make foolish choices for the sake of that pitiful 'humanity'."

He turned his head, his bottomless eyes sweeping over everyone in the cabin.

"Do you want to play along with him?"

Everyone fell silent.

"I don't."

Chen Mo shook his head.

"So, I'm going to flip this table."

He offered no further explanation.

His gaze returned to Nightingale.

"I'll say it again."

"Open the hatch."

"Blow up that plane's engine."

Nightingale stood up.

She didn't ask any more questions.

She turned and walked towards the weapons bay at the rear of the cabin.

Her steps were steady and powerful.

Like a precise killing machine that had been programmed with instructions.

"Stop!"

Zhao Dahai roared, trying to stop her.

But Su Qingxue held him back.

"Old Zhao!"

"Let him try!"

"Try?! How can we try?! If we open the hatch, we'll all be sucked out!"

"I trust him."

Su Qingxue looked at Chen Mo's back, her clear eyes gleaming with an almost blind, frantic trust.

"Cockpit! Respond if you hear me!"

Chen Mo picked up the communicator.

"Prepare to open the rear cargo pressure door."

"What?!"

The pilot's voice was as if he had seen a ghost!

"Sir! Opening the hatch at Mach 2 will cause the plane to disintegrate instantly!"

"It won't disintegrate."

Chen Mo's voice was like a cold decree.

"Decelerate to Mach 0.8, maintain level flight."

"I'll count to three, then open the door."

He gave the other party no chance to question him.

"Three."

"Two."

"Open the door."

Whoosh—!

A dull hydraulic sound rang out.

The massive hatch at the tail of the cabin slowly opened amidst a violent tremor!

Boom—!!!

The biting cold wind, like a prehistoric beast imprisoned for ten thousand years, surged in wildly in an instant!

The alarm lights in the cabin flashed frantically!

The piercing depressurization alarm almost tore everyone's eardrums!

Zhao Dahai clutched the handrail fixed to the wall, feeling as if his body was being torn alive from the plane by an invisible force!

Nightingale returned.

In her hand, she carried a huge, black gun case.

On her feet, she wore special magnetic combat boots, each step firmly adhering to the metal floor as if rooted.

The gale whipped her long black hair, making her look like a goddess of vengeance dancing in a storm.

She walked to the hatch, placed the gun case on the ground, and opened it.

A black anti-materiel sniper rifle, full of violent aesthetics, lay silently inside.

Barrett M82A1.

The King of Guns.

She skillfully assembled the barrel, thicker than her arm, and the heavy gun body.

Then, from the bullet box, she took out a 12.7mm armor-piercing incendiary round, longer than her middle finger, and loaded it into the magazine.

The crisp metallic click was clearly audible amidst the howling wind.

She lay prone at the cold hatch.

Propping the massive gun body on the edge of the hatch.

The fierce wind made her cheeks sting as if cut by a knife.

The sea of clouds surged beneath her.

Like an boundless, white ocean.

There was nothing there.

"I can't see anything."

Her voice, transmitted clearly to Chen Mo's ears through the tactical throat mic.

"You don't need to see."

Chen Mo closed his eyes, his consciousness having already penetrated the layers of clouds.

"Wind speed thirty knots, humidity seventy percent."

"Target is directly below you, relative speed three hundred kilometers per hour."

"Muzzle depressed six degrees, lead, half a fuselage."

His voice was calm, precise, like a supercomputer without emotions.

Nightingale didn't hesitate for a moment.

She slowly moved the muzzle, aligning the crosshairs in the scope with the empty sea of clouds.

Her breathing became long and steady.

Becoming one with the plane struggling in the storm.

On the screen, the countdown continued to tick mercilessly.

25:13.

"Now."

Chen Mo's voice softly sounded.

Bang—!!!

A deafening roar!

The immense recoil, like an enraged bull, slammed violently into Nightingale's shoulder!

A fiery orange-red flame erupted from the muzzle!

The deadly bullet, like a meteor tearing through the night sky, carrying the howl of death, plunged into the surging sea of clouds!

Then, it vanished.

In the cabin, there was dead silence.

Everyone held their breath, staring intently at the screen.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Nothing happened.

"Damn it..."

Zhao Dahai was about to curse.

And just then!

"Beep!"

A crisp notification sound rang out from the cabin's broadcast!

On the screen, the crimson countdown suddenly froze!

Then, to everyone's horrified gaze, it shattered inch by inch!

It disappeared!

A brand new, green prompt box popped up.

["Hermes" relay signal lost...]

[Attempting to reconnect... Connection failed.]

["Final Protocol" is offline.]

We won?

Just like that... we won?

Zhao Dahai stood with his mouth open, feeling as if his brain had completely given up.

Su Qingxue looked at Chen Mo, her clear eyes filled with unspeakable shock and... admiration.

"That plane..."

She spoke softly.

"It was the signal relay station."

Chen Mo's voice unveiled the mystery.

"Arthur is arrogant, but he's not stupid."

"He wouldn't really connect the detonator to my unstable heart."

"What he needs is a stable signal source that he can monitor at any time."

"So, he sent an unmanned signal relay plane, disguised as a cargo plane, to follow us constantly."

"That plane was responsible for amplifying and encrypting the extremely weak life signal transmitted from our plane, and then relaying it to those two bombs."

"What we shot down wasn't a plane."

Chen Mo's lips curled into a cold arc.

"It was his eyes."

As soon as he finished speaking.

"Buzz—"

All the screens in the cabin flickered again!

Arthur's handsome and elegant face appeared on the screens.

His face no longer held the previous playfulness and composure.

Only a cold, infuriated expression, like ten-thousand-year-old profound ice!

"Chen."

His voice was like two pieces of cold metal rubbing together.

"You always manage to give me... surprises."

He slowly raised his hand, adorned with a white silk glove.

"You've smashed my chessboard."

"Then..."

"The game should end."

The scene on the screen switched.

It became an external view of this transport plane.

On the left and right wings of the plane.

Two menacing, sci-fi-looking unmanned stealth fighter jets.

Emerged from the clouds, like two sharks fixated on their prey, firmly locking onto them.

"I forgot to tell you."

Arthur's voice was like a judgment from hell.

"I don't just like playing chess."

"I also like..."

"Flipping the table."

"Goodbye, my old friend."

Friendly reminder: The website is about to be revised, which may result in the loss of reading progress. Please save your "Bookshelf" and "Reading History" in time (screenshots are recommended). We apologize for any inconvenience caused!