129: Chapter 129 It's Time to Change Your Bodyguard

The central plaza of Midland was as hot as a steamer.

Thousands of supporters waved the Stars and Stripes and the state flag, packing tightly around the makeshift podium that had been set up.

Passionate country music blared from the loudspeakers, and the air was thick with the scent of cheap perfume, sweat, and popcorn.

Chen Mo stood in the VIP restricted area less than ten meters from the podium, wearing a well-tailored black suit, with an acoustic tube earpiece hanging by his ear.

Even in the forty-degree heat, his buttons were done up to the very top, and he didn't have a single drop of sweat on him.

"Boss, confirmed."

The voice of "Nightingale" Elizabeth came through the earpiece. Her voice was steady, with the background noise of keyboard clacking.

"McLean's suicide attackers have infiltrated. Three of them, all wearing those high-imitation Legacy Defense uniforms. Also, there's a heat signature at the eleven o'clock position in the clock tower opposite; it should be a sniper."

Chen Mo adjusted his sunglasses, his gaze sweeping across the noisy crowd.

In his field of vision, this wasn't just a crowd, but countless moving data tags.

"What about the Governor's security team?" Chen Mo asked in a low voice.

"A bunch of useless idiots who only know how to put on a show." Elizabeth snorted coldly. "They didn't even notice that the metal detector at the side entrance had been tampered with."

"Very good." A faint curve appeared at the corner of Chen Mo's mouth. "The more useless idiots there are, the easier it is for us to do business."

On the stage, the pot-bellied Governor was waving his arms, spitting as he spoke about "Making Texas Great Again." The rednecks below let out waves of cheers.

Chen Mo's gaze locked onto a man on the left side of the front row of the crowd.

The man was wearing a dark blue tactical suit, with the conspicuous words "Legacy Defense" printed on the back.

His hand was kept inside his jacket, his eyes fanatical and dull, like a drug addict who had overdosed.

"McLean is truly senile," Chen Mo thought to himself. "This kind of suicide attack has no tactical value other than to be disgusting."

But this is exactly what McLean wanted.

If someone from Legacy Defense blew up the Governor in front of everyone, then the Rockefeller Family wouldn't be able to protect Chen Mo either.

Just then, the man moved.

"For the Lone Star!!!"

The man let out a shrill roar, suddenly pushing aside the railing in front, and charged toward the podium like a cannonball.

He pulled his hand from his jacket, clutching a red detonator. His clothes were open, revealing a row of C4 explosives strapped to his waist.

The crowd instantly erupted in chaos. Screams and cries rang out everywhere.

The Governor's bodyguards were stunned for half a second. It was this half-second that decided life and death.

The suicide attacker was less than five meters away from the Governor.

A black shadow cut in from the side.

Fast. Too fast.

That was explosive power that transcended human limits. Chen Mo was like a hunting black panther, instantly crossing the three-meter isolation zone.

He twisted his waist in mid-air, his right leg whipping out like a lash.

Bang!

A muffled, loud sound. It was the sound of bones breaking.

The two-hundred-pound suicide attacker flew sideways as if he had been hit by a truck.

He drew an arc in the air and crashed heavily onto the open ground ten meters away.

Before he had even landed, Chen Mo had already landed.

Without the slightest pause, his right hand drew the M1911 from behind his waist.

Raise hand, aim, shoot.

This series of movements was smooth and fluid, without a single superfluous frame.

Bang!

The bullet hit the detonator in the suicide attacker's hand with precision.

Sparks flew everywhere. Before the suicide attacker could press his thumb down, his palm had been turned into mush by the large-caliber bullet.

"Ah!!!" The suicide attacker rolled on the ground, screaming.

The scene was deathly silent.

Everyone was stunned by this sudden turn of events.

Even the Governor had his mouth wide open, maintaining his speaking posture, like a comical statue.

But the crisis was not over.

Chen Mo's [Danger Sense] suddenly started alarmingly wildly. His scalp tingled.

That was the feeling of being locked onto.

Opposite clock tower. Sniper.

The sniper's original target was the Governor, but now, seeing the plan exposed, the muzzle instantly turned toward this spoiler.

Dodge?

Too late.

Besides, if he dodged, the Governor behind him would have his head blown off.

Chen Mo made a move that surprised everyone.

He didn't dive to the ground, but instead turned sharply, spreading his arms, blocking in front of the Governor like a wall.

Bang!

A sharp gunshot pierced the sky.

That was the sound of a large-caliber sniper rifle.

Chen Mo's body jolted violently.

A 7.62mm armor-piercing round slammed hard into his left chest.

The massive kinetic energy pushed him back a step, his leather shoes scraping against the wooden stage with a harsh sound.

His suit instantly shredded, revealing the black Kevlar tactical vest underneath.

The expensive ceramic bulletproof plate cracked instantly, but it stubbornly caught the deadly bullet.

"My God..." The Governor sat limply on the ground, looking at the broad back blocking in front of him, trembling all over.

Chen Mo looked down at the bullet hole in his chest. Probably broke two ribs, it hurt a bit.

He took a deep breath, raised his head, and his gaze instantly locked onto the top of the clock tower eight hundred meters away.

He was smiling.

It was the smile of a hunter seeing prey.

Chen Mo raised the M1911 in his right hand.

One-handed.

Eight hundred meters.

Pistol.

In anyone's eyes, this was crazy. This was a blind spot of physics.

But for Chen Mo, this was the realm of [Gun Kata] and [Sharpshooter] combined.

He instantly calculated the wind speed, humidity, and ballistic drop in his mind.

Bang!

The muzzle of the M1911 spat out a burst of flame.

Top of the clock tower.

The sniper was just preparing to pull the bolt to chamber the second round.

He saw the man raise his pistol through the scope.

"Idiot," the sniper mocked in his heart.

The next second.

His scope suddenly shattered.

A bullet precisely drilled into the lens, penetrated layer after layer of glass, and finally drilled into his right eye socket, blowing off half his cranium from the back of his head.

The headless corpse toppled off the clock tower.

Chen Mo lowered his muzzle and blew on the nonexistent smoke on the barrel.

He turned around and reached out to pull up the Governor, who was scared to the point of wetting his pants.

"Mr. Governor."

Chen Mo's voice was as steady as if he had just finished a cup of afternoon tea.

He casually tore open his tattered suit, revealing the bulletproof vest underneath and the deformed bullet embedded in it.

"It seems your security team needs replacing."

The Governor stood steady, trembling, looking at the young Asian man in front of him.

At this moment, in his eyes, this wasn't a person, it was practically an angel sent by God—although this angel was holding a gun and was filled with killing intent.

"Who... who are you?" the Governor asked, stuttering.

Chen Mo patted the dust off the Governor's shoulder and stuffed a business card smelling of gunpowder into his jacket pocket.

"Chen Mo."

He pointed to the dumbfounded reporters and cameras below the stage.

"The boss of Legacy Defense."

"Also, I will send the bill for this rescue service to your office. Believe me, it's worth every penny."

Just then, a large group of SWAT officers rushed into the scene and pinned the suicide attacker with the severed hand to the ground.

The suicide attacker was still screaming frantically: "I am a man of Legacy Defense! This is for the Lone Star..."

Chen Mo walked over, stepped on the man's face, crushing his teeth with the sole of his shoe, blocking the rest of his words.

He bent down and whispered in the suicide attacker's ear:

"Your acting is too poor. In your next life, remember not to wear a pirated uniform."

He straightened up, looked at the countless flashing lights, and adjusted his tie.

This bullet was worth taking.

It wasn't just about saving a Governor.

From today on, Legacy Defense would no longer be an underground armed force known only to gangs.

It would step over McLean's corpse to become the most expensive and top-tier security brand in all of America.