49: Chapter 49: A Horrifying Art Exhibition! A Hero's Back and Redemption

"Ahhh—!"

A sharp soprano pierced the hypocritical tranquility of the exhibition hall, like an ice blade stabbing into hot butter.

Ava Rockefeller not only inherited her family's beauty but clearly also possessed the lung capacity of a top socialite.

This scream was enough to make the champagne glasses in the hands of every gentleman present tremble.

Chaos arrived right on cue.

The crowd, like a startled school of sardines, surged frantically toward the exits.

The sounds of shoving, cursing, and high heels snapping blended into a chaotic mess.

"Act."

Chen Mo's voice sounded in the earpiece.

The bodyguard in sunglasses who had been blending into the crowd finally tore off his disguise.

He pulled a silenced Uzi submachine gun from his coat, the muzzle not aimed at Ava, who was creating the noise, but instead professionally predicting her escape route—the left side of that massive abstract sculpture.

This was Ouroboros.

They didn't solve problems; they solved the people who created them.

But he was fast, and Chen Mo was faster.

[Sharpshooter (Green)] and [Dynamic Vision] were fully activated.

The world slowed down in Chen Mo's eyes.

The previously chaotic, running crowd now turned into calculable trajectories.

Chen Mo did not draw his gun; that was the last resort.

In full view of everyone, he was an off-duty detective, not a butcher.

He took two steps to gain momentum, slammed his right foot against the sculpture's base, and launched himself into the air like a hunting cheetah.

Stretching his body in the air, his long suit trousers traced a sharp black line.

Knee strike!

"Crack."

The teeth-grinding sound of bone cracking was masked by the noisy crowd.

The bodyguard in sunglasses didn't even have time to pull the trigger before his entire face was caved in by Chen Mo's knee. He was sent flying sideways for three meters as if hit by a speeding train, crashing heavily onto the velvet-carpeted floor.

The Uzi submachine gun slipped from his hand and slid to Ava's feet.

Ava stared blankly at the scene; the violent aura radiating from her usually gentle and refined male companion made it hard for her to breathe.

"Get down!"

Chen Mo landed, rolled, and used one hand to press Ava's head, forcing her down onto the floor.

"Phut! Phut!"

Two bullets struck the sculpture behind where they had just been standing, sending marble fragments flying.

A sniper on the second floor.

"Police! Everyone get down!" Chen Mo roared the classic line while pulling a glock 17 from his waistband with his left hand, firing three shots into the ceiling.

This wasn't just a deterrent; it was a signal.

The other two killers hidden in the crowd, seeing their cover blown, stopped hiding. They drew daggers and handguns and charged from an angle.

They wore proper tuxedos, but their movements were as swift as wolves.

"Stay put."

Chen Mo released Ava and charged toward the two killers.

This wasn't a street fight; it was art.

[Close Quarters Combat Mastery (Blue)], also known as CQC (Close Quarters Combat), was performed to perfection by Chen Mo at this moment.

Facing the dagger thrust from the left, Chen Mo stepped forward instead of back. His left hand lunged out like a viper's strike, precisely grabbing the opponent's wrist and twisting it downward.

The killer was also trained, but under the suppression of absolute strength and technique, he could only let out a muffled grunt.

Chen Mo used the centrifugal force of his turn to slam his right elbow hard into the opponent's temple.

No frills, a one-hit kill; the killer collapsed limply.

The killer with the gun on the right had already raised his muzzle.

The distance was too close; he couldn't dodge.

A flash of brilliance crossed Chen Mo's eyes; he needed this opportunity.

He shifted his body slightly to the left by five centimeters.

This was a crazy gamble, and also the confidence of [Advanced Engineering] in calculating human body structure.

"Bang!"

The bullet grazed Chen Mo's left arm, spraying blood and instantly staining his suit sleeve red.

"Chen!" Ava screamed in terror.

Chen Mo remained expressionless, as if the bullet had hit a piece of wood.

Leveraging the impact of the gunshot, he closed the distance, pressing the cold barrel of his glock directly under the killer's jaw.

"Good night."

He pulled the trigger.

Red and white matter sprayed onto the abstract painting behind, adding a touch of violent beauty to the artwork.

The entire process took less than ten seconds.

Three top-tier killers, one dead, two crippled.

There was a deathly silence in the exhibition hall, with only the sound of police sirens rapidly approaching in the distance.

Chen Mo clutched his bleeding left arm and turned to look at Ava.

A few drops of blood were splattered on his face, his previously meticulous hairstyle was slightly disheveled, and his gold-rimmed glasses had slid down to the bridge of his nose.

He didn't have that ferocious look after killing; instead, he exuded a weary helplessness characteristic of a civil servant.

"It seems your family really misses you." Chen Mo extended his uninjured right hand.

Ava looked at the man in front of her.

In that instant, everything around her blurred; only this hand was real.

She tremblingly gripped his hand and used it to pull herself up.

"You're bleeding..." Ava's voice was filled with tears.

"Small injury. If I don't bleed a little, how can I explain to Internal Affairs why I'm carrying a gun?"

Chen Mo smiled calmly, took his police badge from his pocket, and hung it around his neck.

A large group of armed SWAT officers burst through the doors.

"Drop your weapon! Raise your hands!"

Countless red dots aimed at Chen Mo.

Chen Mo cooperatively placed the gun on the ground, raised his hands, displayed the golden police badge on his chest, and shouted in the tone only a veteran who had spent years in the police station would have.

"Friendly! NYPD Major Crimes Unit Probationary Detective Robert Chen! Just passing by and cleaned up some trash!"

The lead SWAT captain paused, looked at the three killers lying on the ground, then at the gunshot wound on Chen Mo's arm, his gaze shifting from vigilance to admiration.

"Damn, man, you call this 'just passing by'?"

During the chaotic handover and statement taking, Chen Mo refused an ambulance and just had someone bandage his wound simply.

He stood outside the police tape and lit a cigarette.

The surveillance camera was aimed directly at his back.

He stayed in front of the camera for a full three seconds, letting that "heroic image"—clutching his wound, his back slightly hunched yet still standing tall—be deeply recorded onto the hard drive.

This was for Jessica to see, and also for those rats hiding in the gutters.

Ava was escorted away by a group of bodyguards and police.

Before getting into the car, she looked back.

The man stood in the shadows, the fire at his fingertips flickering.

She stroked the red marks left on her arm from where Chen Mo had gripped her; it was the only warmth she had felt all night.

"Drive," Ava said coldly to the driver. The fear in her eyes had dissipated, replaced by a flame called "ambition."

Chen Mo watched the convoy drive away and pressed his earpiece.

"George, retreat. Was that back shot captured clearly?"

"Clear enough to win a Pulitzer Prize." George was chewing gum on the channel.

"But I have to remind you, your staged injury was a bit over the top. If that bullet had been two centimeters off, you'd be finished."

"No one believes in a hero who doesn't bleed." Chen Mo threw away the cigarette butt and crushed it. "This is also the price that must be paid."

Only a wounded beast is most likely to make a hunter lower their guard.