120: Chapter 120 The rabbits here eat meat

The tires of the lincoln Navigator crunched over the gravel road, the sound like bones being chewed.

This car had been driving across the Texas wilderness for two hours.

The road signs here were basically useless; navigation relied entirely on the occasional bullet holes and rusted barbed wire along the roadside.

"This is the Lone Star hunting ground."

Chen Mo sat in the passenger seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his knees.

Through the explosion-proof window film, a four-meter-high electric fence loomed ahead.

The razor wire coils on top of the fence gleamed ghastly white under the scorching sun, and one could hear the low, buzzing hum of the current flowing through them from dozens of meters away.

Four security guards stood at the entrance.

They wore no uniforms, nor did they wear those ridiculous cowboy hats.

They were all decked out in tactical vests with walkie-talkies attached, their AR15 rifles off-safety, fingers resting just outside the trigger guards.

This stance wasn't that of ordinary private bodyguards, or even retired police officers.

It was a habit found only in mercenaries who had crawled out of piles of dead bodies.

"They don't look like they're here to hunt." Ava Rockefeller's hands on the steering wheel were turning white.

She glanced at the rearview mirror, where a black pickup truck that had been following them remained, neither overtaking nor falling behind.

"It is indeed a hunt." Chen Mo rolled down the window, and a wave of heat mixed with dust rushed in. "It's just that the prey is a bit special."

The car drove up to the main gate.

A guard with a fleshy, brutish face walked over; he didn't salute, and his rifle muzzle was pointed, intentionally or not, toward the driver's cabin.

He reached out and slapped the car door with enough force to squash a fly.

"Invitation."

Chen Mo pulled the black card, which he had almost burned to ashes, from his shirt pocket and handed it over, holding it between two fingers.

The guard took the card without even glancing at it and stuffed it directly into his pocket.

His gaze shifted past Chen Mo, lingering for a few seconds on Ava's exquisite face, his lips curling into a lewd smirk.

"The boss is waiting inside. Park the car in the designated spot and don't wander off. There are some big beasts in these woods; if you get your neck snapped, we aren't responsible for cleaning up the corpse."

The gate opened with a rumble.

The car drove into the estate. Rather than a hunting ground, it looked more like a military fortress.

The flat lawn was trimmed like a buzz cut, and the bushes on both sides were neatly pruned, but there was a surveillance camera every fifty meters.

In the open space in the center of the estate, several huge grills were set up.

Whole calves were skewered on iron rods over blazing charcoal fires, grease dripping down and sending up thick plumes of white smoke.

The air was filled with the mixed scent of roasted meat, cumin, and cigars.

A dozen luxury cars were parked haphazardly on the lawn. A group of men and women in expensive hunting attire held wine glasses, laughing and talking loudly around the grills.

"McLean is over there." Chen Mo gestured with his chin.

In the center of the crowd, a burly man was holding a half-meter-long carving knife, slicing a piece of bloody meat from a cow's leg.

He wore a distressed suede jacket, a wide-brimmed hat, and a gold chain as thick as a thumb around his neck.

His face looked like rock polished by wind and sand—rough, dark red, and exuding an undisguised bandit aura.

Seemingly hearing the sound of the engine, McLean turned around.

He stuffed the dripping piece of meat into his mouth, chewed it carelessly a couple of times, and then raised the grease-stained carving knife, waving it at Ava, who had just stepped out of the car.

"Look who it is!"

McLean's voice was as loud as a megaphone, and the surrounding laughter and conversation ceased instantly.

"Our noble Miss Rockefeller actually dared to crawl out of that air-conditioned room and run to this place full of cow dung stench?"

The crowd erupted in laughter.

Those guests who had been chatting about stocks and horse racing were now sizing up Ava with the eyes of spectators watching a show.

In their eyes, this woman in custom hunting attire with fair skin was like a sheep that had wandered into a wolf pack.

Ava stood by the car door, her high heels sinking into the soft grass, and her body swayed slightly.

She instinctively looked back at Chen Mo.

Chen Mo was leaning against the car door, not moving or speaking.

He simply lit a cigarette and watched everything calmly through the curling smoke.

That gaze was as if he were looking at a group of dead men.

Ava took a deep breath.

She remembered what Chen Mo had said before they arrived—here, fear is just handing the enemy a knife.

She straightened her back and walked across the lawn.

"Mr. McLean." Ava's voice was not loud, but her words were clear.

"I thought the boss of Lone Star Energy would be more particular about hospitality. After all, the ownership of this land is still in dispute."

McLean was stunned for a moment, seemingly not expecting this vase to talk back.

He casually plunged the carving knife into the wooden post beside him, burying it deep into the wood.

"Hospitality?" McLean grabbed a whiskey from a waiter's tray and downed it in one gulp.

"In Texas, that's reserved for friends. As for those rats trying to steal food from our plate..."

He strode up to Ava and looked down at her. The scent, a mixture of alcohol, sweat, and blood, rushed directly into Ava's nostrils.

"We usually entertain them with mousetraps."

The surrounding bodyguards cooperated by placing their hands on their waists.

The atmosphere tightened instantly.

Ava's nails dug into her palms, but she did not retreat.

"Rats?" She sneered, and at this moment, the arrogance belonging to a wealthy heiress was finally forced out of her.

"I checked the accounts for the LS-09 oil well. Thirty million dollars in annual maintenance fees have gone missing, along with fifty million dollars in crude oil losses. Mr. McLean, who exactly is the rat stealing oil?"

The scene went quiet for two seconds.

The smile on McLean's face disappeared bit by bit.

He narrowed his eyes, a fierce light flashing in his murky pupils.

"Little girl, your tongue is quite sharp."

He extended a thick, stubby finger, intending to poke Ava's shoulder.

A hand reached out from the side and gripped that finger.

The movement wasn't fast, nor was there any exaggerated sound of impact.

But McLean's finger was as if it had been poured into concrete—it wouldn't budge.

Chen Mo had appeared at Ava's side at some point.

He had a cigarette in his mouth, his other hand still in his pocket, looking just like a passing tourist.

"Talk if you want to talk, but keep your hands to yourself." Chen Mo exhaled a smoke ring, the smoke puffing right into McLean's face. "If this finger breaks, how will you pull the trigger later?"

The muscles in McLean's arm bulged violently as he tried to pull his hand back.

It wouldn't budge.

This yellow-skinned monkey's grip strength was ridiculously huge.

McLean's expression changed, but he quickly relaxed and burst into laughter: "Hahahaha! Good! The dog raised by the Rockefeller family certainly has sharp teeth!"

Chen Mo let go.

McLean rubbed his somewhat numb knuckles, stepped back, and looked around.

"Since everyone is in such high spirits, just eating meat and drinking alcohol is boring." He clapped his hands. "How about we play a game?"

No one answered; everyone knew the main event was coming.

"In these woods, I had people release one hundred marked wild rabbits and ten wild boars last night."

McLean pointed to the lush forest behind him. "Each person takes one bodyguard inside. Before the sun sets, whoever gets the most hunting points wins."

He turned his head and stared fixedly at Ava, his eyes full of greed and malice.

"If you win, I don't want the mining rights for the LS-09 oil field for this year; it's all yours."

A low gasp went through the crowd. This was a business deal worth over a hundred million dollars.

"What if you lose?" Chen Mo flicked the ash off his cigarette and interjected.

"Lose?" McLean sneered. "Then I'll ask Miss Rockefeller to sign the transfer agreement for that land, and then go back to New York to get a manicure."

Ava's breathing quickened.

This wasn't a hunting game at all; it was forcing her into a dead end.

There must have been people lying in ambush in those woods; whether she could make it out alive was a question.

"What? Too scared?" McLean looked at her provocatively. "If you're afraid, kneel down and kowtow to me now, and I might let you go."

"We accept."

Chen Mo threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it with his toe.

"But this bet is a bit unfair." Chen Mo looked up, his gaze passing over McLean and toward the direction of the abandoned mining area in the distance. "Just mining rights is too stingy."

"You want to raise the stakes?" McLean narrowed his eyes.

"If I win." Chen Mo pulled a folded map from his inner jacket pocket—the one he had brought from New York. "I want the land deed for that abandoned copper mine thirty miles west of Midland."

McLean's pupils instantly contracted into pinpricks.

That was the entrance to the virus laboratory and also Lone Star Energy's biggest secret.

How did this Asian know about that place?

Killing intent.

The killing intent, almost tangible, spread through the air.

McLean stared at Chen Mo for a full five seconds.

He was certain that this person could not be left alive. Today, regardless of whether they won or lost, these two people had to die in the forest.

"Good!" McLean grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "As long as you have the life to take it, the deed is yours."

He waved his hand.

Several subordinates immediately carried over two long gun cases and slammed them onto the grass with a thud.

The cases were opened, revealing a dazzling array inside.

remington 700 sniper rifles, AR15s equipped with thermal imaging scopes, and even a few semi-automatic shotguns that looked quite brutal.

"Pick whatever you want." McLean grabbed a modified M14 rifle, pulled the bolt, and it made a crisp click. "Don't say I bully outsiders."

The surrounding guests also began to choose their weapons, each one as excited as if they were going to a carnival.

Ava looked at Chen Mo with a questioning gaze.

She knew Chen Mo's marksmanship was excellent; that god-like marksmanship might be their only way out.

Yet Chen Mo didn't even glance at those firearms.

He turned and walked toward the trunk of the lincoln.

"Help me take out that long black bag." Chen Mo said to Ava.

Ava was stunned for a moment, but she did as she was told.

The bag was heavy. When she unzipped it, it wasn't some heavy firepower inside.

It was a black compound bow.

The matte bow body and the pulley system were designed with such precision that it looked like a piece of industrial art.

Beside it was a quiver of carbon arrows, the arrowheads being specially made tri-edged barbs that gleamed with a cold, blue light.

Besides the bow, there was also a Damascus steel hunting knife.

"This..." McLean saw the gear in Chen Mo's hands, stunned for a moment, and then burst into wild laughter.

"Hahahaha! Are you here to be funny? Watched too much Rambo? Using this thing to hunt wild boars?"

The people around them also laughed until they were doubled over. In the face of modern firearms, a bow and arrow were like toys for primitive people.

Chen Mo ignored their mockery.

He skillfully tested the tension of the bowstring, the feeling of tight feedback traveling through his fingertips and spreading throughout his body.

"Ava."

Chen Mo tucked the hunting knife into the leather sheath at his lower back, then pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocked it onto the bow.

His movements were slow, yet they exuded an indescribable steadiness.

"Do you know why I didn't choose a gun?"

Ava shook her head; her hands were still shaking.

Chen Mo turned his head and glanced at the deep, dense forest in the distance.

In that direction, a few startled birds were flapping their wings and taking flight.

"Because gunshots are too noisy."

Chen Mo's voice was very soft, yet it made Ava feel inexplicably at ease.

"A true hunter never lets the prey hear the sound of Death knocking at the door."

He handed the map to Ava, a hint of coldness on his lips.

"Let's go, the rabbits here... eat meat."