142: Chapter 142 Fireworks in the Desert

Gunfire scorched the night sky of Red Rock Valley until it felt searing hot.

Bullets struck the sandstone, sending stone chips flying everywhere like buckshot.

The dense sound of impacts made one's scalp tingle, as if someone were frantically hammering on your skull with a chisel.

Chen Mo huddled behind a massive rock in a depression, gripping the black ledger he had just pulled out of the safe.

"Take this."

Chen Mo kicked the empty, rusted safe to Nightingale's feet. It was the iron box used to hold the ledger earlier, but now it only contained a few heavy stones.

Nightingale was reloading the empty magazine of her sniper rifle. Her movements were swift, but her fingertips were trembling slightly.

She looked up at the iron box, then at Chen Mo's bulging tactical vest.

"Are you trying to make me a target?" Nightingale pushed the magazine into the chamber with a click.

"This is called tactical diversion." Chen Mo hooked his finger through the ring of a flashbang, his tone as steady as if he were discussing what to have for dinner.

"Run toward that gap to the south. The box is heavy enough; it'll make a lot of noise when you run, and they love that sound."

"And you?"

"I'm heading north. Since Rogers wants to watch a show, I'll go put on the grand finale for him."

Chen Mo lunged out, putting strength into his arm, and hurled the flashbang toward the firing point above the cliff.

Boom!

A blinding white light exploded in the night, followed immediately by screams and the sound of heavy objects falling.

Two of the spotlights above were shot out, and a chaotic gap instantly appeared in what had been an airtight encirclement.

"Run!"

Chen Mo let out a low growl.

Nightingale didn't hesitate. Clutching the heavy iron box, she bolted from the cover like a startled antelope, sprinting toward the pile of rocks to the south.

The sound of the iron box striking the rocks echoed through the canyon, immediately drawing most of the enemy fire.

"Over there, that's the ledger! Don't let him get away!"

Someone shouted from the cliff, and immediately, a stream of gunfire chased after Nightingale's heels.

Chen Mo didn't look back.

Amidst the chaos, he moved like a gray lizard, hugging the shadows of the rock wall and moving rapidly toward the northern slope.

[Gun Kata] was fully activated.

Everything around him turned into slow motion.

The heat trails left by bullets cutting through the air, the parabolas of flying stone chips, and even the breathing rhythm of a machine gunner reloading his belt in the distance were all captured clearly by his cold, glowing eyes.

Bang! Bang!

Chen Mo fired two shots. Two gunmen who were just about to pop their heads out on the northern slope were hit in the center of the forehead, falling down without even a chance to scream.

He stepped over the corpses and charged up the slope.

"There's another one over here! Stop him!"

A rough voice exploded from the side.

Immediately after, a figure like a bear charged out from behind a rock.

It was a bald, burly man nearly two meters tall, holding a modified M249 machine gun, with blue smoke still rising from the barrel.

The Butcher.

The number one Cleaner under Rogers, a retired Navy SEAL demolitionist. It was said that in Iraq, he had once chopped three prisoners into pulp with an entrenching tool.

"Caught you, little mouse."

The Butcher grinned, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth edged in gold.

He didn't give Chen Mo any chance to raise his gun, simply swinging the heavy machine gun like a club.

The wind whistled.

Chen Mo rolled to the side. The machine gun smashed into the rock where he had just been standing, sparks flew everywhere, and a large crater was smashed into the hard red sandstone.

This was absolute suppression by strength.

Chen Mo didn't try to fight head-on. Using the momentum from his roll, he sprang up from the ground like a spring and charged toward the deeper, chaotic rock forest.

"Trying to run?"

The Butcher dropped the empty machine gun, drew a terrifyingly large Bowie knife, and chased after him with long strides.

His speed was astonishing, and every step he took on the ground felt like an earthquake.

One chasing, one fleeing, they quickly broke away from the main battlefield.

The terrain here was even more complex, filled with weathered rocks and bottomless crevices everywhere.

Chen Mo ran stumbling in front, looking as if he were fleeing in a panic.

"Is this the Corpse Collector who turned Las Vegas upside down?"

The Butcher mocked from behind, "Looks like you have no skills other than running away like a dog."

Chen Mo didn't respond.

His breathing remained steady, his eyes fixed on the path beneath his feet.

Earlier, while observing the terrain using [Old Detective's Obsession], he had noticed a detail about this area—there were many irregular snake-like tracks on the ground, and a faint, fishy stench permeated the air.

This shaded, rocky slope was a massive rattlesnake den.

The path ahead suddenly ended.

It was a dead end, with smooth rock walls on three sides.

Chen Mo stopped, his back against the rock wall, panting heavily. The gun in his hand seemed to be out of ammo, and he tossed it aside.

"Run, why aren't you running anymore?"

The Butcher caught up, blocking the only exit.

He slapped the Bowie knife in his palm, making a sharp, crisp sound.

"Mr. Rogers said he wanted you alive. But I have heavy hands; you shouldn't mind if I dismantle a couple of your arms or legs, right?"

He approached step by step.

Chen Mo kept his head down; no one could see his expression.

Just when the Butcher was less than three meters away, Chen Mo suddenly looked up.

There was no fear in those eyes, only mockery.

Chen Mo's toe lightly flicked a fist-sized stone, kicking it violently toward a patch of dead grass beside the Butcher.

Hiss—

A hair-raising hissing sound rang out.

The Butcher paused, turning his head instinctively.

At that very instant, dark brown shadows suddenly shot out from the dead grass.

It was a swarm of disturbed rattlesnakes. In this season, they were extremely aggressive.

"Fuck!"

The Butcher cursed and swung his knife, severing a venomous snake that was lunging at his face.

But he was distracted.

When experts fight, this fraction of a second of distraction is the boundary between life and death.

Chen Mo moved.

He didn't take the opportunity to run as the Butcher had expected; instead, like a cannonball leaving the chamber, he slammed directly into the Butcher's chest.

A cold light flashed from his sleeve.

The Damascus steel hunting knife, like a viper's fangs, precisely severed the tendons in the wrist the Butcher was using to hold his knife.

Clang.

The Bowie knife hit the ground.

The Butcher let out a scream, trying to grab Chen Mo's neck with his other hand.

But Chen Mo's movements were too fast. He maneuvered behind the Butcher, and with his backhand, slashed the hunting knife across his throat.

Pfft.

The sound of the blade slicing through the trachea and arteries was exceptionally clear in the noisy night.

Hot blood sprayed onto Chen Mo's face.

The Butcher's massive body twitched twice, then collapsed with a crash like a falling mountain, crushing the snake den tightly.

Chen Mo didn't pause for even a second. The moment the Butcher hit the ground, his palm was already pressed against the top of his head.

"Extract."

[Extraction successful!]

[Skill Acquired: Desert Survival Expert (Blue) — You are the master of this desert. You know where to find water and where to bury people.]

[Skill Acquired: Explosives Making (Blue) — As long as you have gunpowder, you can make God listen to the noise.]

Chen Mo took a deep breath, the familiar cooling sensation washing away the fatigue in his body.

He glanced into the distance.

Rogers' troops were closing in, and the headlights of several off-road vehicles illuminated the area brightly.

"Just in time."

Chen Mo bent down, fishing two blocks of C4 and a bundle of detonators from the Butcher's tactical vest.

Those were what the Butcher had originally intended to use to blow open the safe.

With the enhancement of [Explosives Making], these dangerous explosives became as obedient as building blocks in Chen Mo's hands.

He quickly stuffed the explosives into several critical rock crevices—the stress points supporting the structure of this cliff.

It took less than thirty seconds to do all this.

Chen Mo dusted off his hands, picked up the M249 machine gun from the ground, and turned to slip into a hidden animal trail that only a [Desert Survival Expert] could discover.

Two minutes later.

Rogers' men finally rushed to the dead end.

"Over there! That's the Butcher's vehicle!"

"Damn it, the Butcher has been killed!"

A dozen vehicles crowded into the narrow mountain pass, and a group of people got out to check the situation.

Standing on a high ground a few hundred meters away, Chen Mo pulled the blood-stained detonator from his pocket.

He glanced at the group of people huddled together like ants, a cold smirk playing on his lips.

"Happy New Year."

He pressed his thumb down.

Boom—!!!

The massive explosion shook the entire Red Rock Valley.

Flames shot up into the sky.

After those support points were blown apart, thousands of tons of red sandstone poured down like a landslide or tsunami, instantly leveling the mountain pass completely.

Screams, the screech of brakes, and gunshots were all swallowed up by the roar in an instant.

A few seconds later, the world went silent.

Only billowing dust and the sound of occasional falling rocks remained.

Chen Mo stood on the high ground, the night wind whipping his trench coat. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed the number.

The phone was answered after one ring.

"This is Rogers." The voice on the other end was somewhat hurried; clearly, he had heard the commotion from here.

"Look out the window," Chen Mo said calmly.

"What?"

"I set off some fireworks for you in Red Rock Valley. They're quite big."

Chen Mo watched the mushroom cloud rising in the distance and threw the half-finished cigarette under his feet, crushing it out.

"By the way, your dog—I've already buried it for you. Don't mention it."