131: Chapter 131 I'll Take His Inheritance

The AT4 rocket trailed a long tail of fire, blasting the lookout tower on the east side of the estate into a pile of rubble.

Bricks flew everywhere, and two snipers were buried inside before they could even let out a scream.

The frontal assault was intense. One-Eyed Dragon commanded three armored vehicles, using their mounted heavy machine guns to build a wall of metal fire that kept the estate guards pinned down.

Those bodyguards, who usually threw their weight around, had never seen such a professional military formation; their defensive line was torn apart layer by layer as if it were made of paper.

But Chen Mo was not in the vehicles.

Behind the estate, in a dried-up sewage channel, a rusty iron grate was melted through by a high-temperature cutter, making a soft sound.

Chen Mo threw the thermal cutter onto the ground, braced one hand against the damp pipe wall, and jumped inside.

This led directly to the underground wine cellar of the main building.

The blueprint was given to him by the Priest; that old guy had used this route many times back when he was smuggling liquor for McLean.

The air was filled with a musty smell and the aroma of aged wine.

Chen Mo turned on his night vision goggles. In the green field of view, two heat sources were moving rapidly ahead.

"Over there, someone has come in."

Two guards wearing full riot armor rushed over, brandishing automatic rifles.

Their movements were fast—too fast for normal humans—and their muscles strained their tactical gear so tightly it looked like it was about to burst.

These were the enhanced guards who had been injected with a diluted version of the serum.

Chen Mo did not dodge. With a flick of his wrist, the AA12 fully automatic shotgun he had gotten from the Priest slid into his palm.

This gun had a nickname: the "Urban Warfare Bulldozer."

Bang! Bang!

Two massive muzzle flashes exploded in the darkness.

There was no need for fancy marksmanship; at this range, it was pure kinetic crushing power.

The chest of the enhanced guard on the left was blown apart; the bulletproof vest was like cardboard in the face of the slug rounds.

The immense impact sent him flying backward, smashing into an entire rack of expensive red wine.

Wine mixed with blood flowed all over the floor.

The one on the right was still trying to raise his gun, but Chen Mo kept his finger on the trigger as he strode forward.

Bang, bang, bang!

The third bullet broke the opponent's arm, the fourth shattered his knee, and the fifth blasted his helmeted head right into the wall.

This was Heavy Firearm Mastery.

Chen Mo stepped over the corpses; the smell of blood only made his [Cold-Blooded Hunter] passive more active.

His heartbeat was as steady as if he were strolling through a supermarket.

He changed the drum magazine and headed up the stairs.

Along the way, anything that popped out from a corner, whether it was a person or one of those mutated experimental subjects, was taken down with a single shot.

The walls were covered in bullet holes and splatter marks.

This was Chen Mo's tactic—simple, brutal, and efficient.

He didn't need to tangle with these small fry; what he wanted was the rat hiding on the top floor.

"Stop him! Release all of those things!"

In the second-floor corridor, McLean's security chief roared.

Several heavy metal doors opened simultaneously.

Roar—!

Several inhuman roars rang out.

Four "failures," over two meters tall with eerily grayish-green skin, rushed out.

Their eyes had no pupils, only a murky white, and they held no weapons because those mutated claws were the best weapons they had.

"B-class experimental subjects..." Chen Mo glanced at the system prompt.

These things were thick-skinned and sturdy; ordinary bullets were like tickling them.

A monster lunged forward, moving so fast that it left a blur in the night vision goggles.

Its claws swiped past the tip of Chen Mo's nose, tearing the oil painting on the wall to shreds.

Chen Mo leaned backward and activated [Gun Kata] at that very moment.

The flow of time seemed to slow down.

While sliding, he pulled out a high-explosive grenade with his left hand, flipped the safety pin with his thumb, and precisely shoved it into the monster's gaping maw.

Boom!

After a muffled explosion, the headless corpse swayed twice before collapsing to the ground.

"Tastes pretty good, right?"

Chen Mo sprang up from the ground, pointing the AA12 at the other three monsters charging over.

"Taste this."

He pulled the trigger. This time, he wasn't firing slug rounds, but FRAG12 high-explosive armor-piercing rounds.

The micro-warheads burrowed into the monsters' flesh and exploded inside their bodies.

A rain of blood fell in the corridor.

Watching this scene, the security chief's legs went weak, and he knelt on the ground.

The gun fell from his hand, and he muttered to himself, "Monster... you're the real monster..."

Chen Mo ignored him, casually finishing him off with a shot as he passed by, putting an end to his fear.

He pushed open the fire door leading to the rooftop.

A gale, accompanied by the roar of helicopter rotors, rushed in.

The Bell 429 helicopter had already started; its massive rotors sliced through the air, and the fuselage was slowly lifting off the ground.

McLean was sitting by the window, clutching the black briefcase tightly in his hands.

He saw Chen Mo rush out, a ferocious, maniacal laugh appearing on his face as he gave him the middle finger through the glass.

"Goodbye," he shouted, though his voice was drowned out by the noise, "When I come back, I'm going to kill all of you!"

The helicopter ascended, and the nose began to turn.

Chen Mo stood at the edge of the rooftop, the wild wind whipping his trench coat.

He threw the empty shotgun onto the ground and unslung his compound bow from his back.

The distance was fifty meters.

At this distance, it was easy for firearms, but for a bow and arrow, piercing bulletproof glass was almost impossible.

But Chen Mo didn't intend to shoot at the person.

He pulled a specially made arrow from his quiver.

The arrowhead wasn't metal, but a bundle wrapped in black tape—it was two blocks of C4, with a fuse connected to a simple impact trigger.

Chen Mo drew the bowstring.

[Sharpshooter] activated.

His breathing stopped in that instant, and in his eyes, the world was reduced to nothing but that high-speed rotating tail rotor.

If it lost its tail rotor, the helicopter would become a spinning iron coffin in the sky.

Twang!

The bowstring vibrated.

The arrow, carrying a gift of death, turned into a black bolt of lightning and precisely drilled into the rotating bearing of the tail rotor.

Boom!

Fire erupted in mid-air.

The helicopter's tail was slammed by an invisible hand, sending metal fragments flying everywhere.

The fuselage, which had been ascending, suddenly lost its balance and began to spin crazily in the air.

"No! No!!"

McLean's smile froze on his face, replaced by extreme terror.

The helicopter, like a drunkard, wobbled and crashed toward the estate's lawn.

Crash!

The landing gear snapped, and the belly of the aircraft slammed heavily into the ground; the immense momentum plowed a deep trench through the grass until it finally stopped after crashing into the fountain pool.

The rotor blades struck the sculpture, sending sparks flying, before finally jamming and coming to a halt.

Chen Mo leaped from the rooftop, grabbing a drainpipe to slide down to the ground floor.

He walked up to the smoking wreckage.

The cabin door had deformed. A blood-covered hand pushed aside the shattered glass.

McLean crawled out.

One of his legs was broken, the bone piercing through his trousers, and his face was covered in glass shards.

The black briefcase had burst open, scattering bonds all over the ground, and two green vials of serum had rolled onto the grass.

A leather shoe stepped on one of the vials.

McLean looked up, through eyes matted with blood, and saw the figure looking down at him.

Chen Mo was holding the M1911, the muzzle pointed downward, watching him coldly.

"Looks like they aren't taking you in Mexico." Chen Mo pressed down with his foot, and with a crunch, crushed the priceless vial of serum.

The green liquid seeped into the soil, hissing with white smoke.

"You... do you think you've won?"

McLean coughed up blood; he knew he was finished, but the madness in his eyes only intensified.

He tremblingly pulled a pocket pistol from his coat, pointing it at Chen Mo, but he couldn't even pull the trigger.

"Unit-734... has already spread..."