32: Chapter 32 A Frenzied Gold Harvest! The CIA Ghost Infiltrates the Building!

Los Santos, Sunset Boulevard.

The once-prosperous street in the wealthy district.

At this moment, a line several kilometers long had formed.

The scorching sun baked the asphalt road mercilessly.

In the queue, there were Silicon Valley executives in suits, gaunt from hunger.

There were third-rate Hollywood actresses in tattered designer dresses with dirt-streaked faces, as well as pot-bellied real estate developers.

At the end of the long queue.

Was an armed checkpoint constructed from sandbags and machine gun positions.

Ten fully armed thugs in black stood coldly beside an armored vehicle.

The armored vehicle was piled high with crates of bread and bottled water.

And at their feet lay several huge black canvas bags.

"Next!" a thug holding a gun shouted coldly.

An investment company boss, who once had a net worth of over 100 million, walked forward, trembling.

He took out a sweat-stained Patek Philippe limited edition tourbillon watch from his bosom, along with two heavy gold bars, and carefully placed them into the black canvas bag.

The canvas bag was already filled with various Rolexes, diamond necklaces, emerald rings, and solid gold bars.

These pieces of jewelry, worth a fortune in peaceful times, were now piled together like trash.

"This is all I have..."

The investment boss swallowed his dry saliva, his eyes fixed on the water on the armored vehicle.

"Can you trade me two bottles of water and three loaves of bread?"

The thug didn't even look at the two-million-dollar Patek Philippe, casually throwing down half a bottle of mineral water and a shriveled, hard loaf of bread from the vehicle.

"That's all." The thug was expressionless.

"How is this enough! I have a wife and children at home!"

The investment boss panicked, subconsciously wanting to step forward to argue.

"Click!"

A pitch-black gun barrel was pressed directly against his forehead.

The investment boss stiffened, all his protests instantly swallowed back into his stomach.

He clutched the half bottle of water and the piece of bread tightly, fleeing the checkpoint like a stray dog, scrambling as he went.

This was the only rule of survival in Los Santos now.

Chu Feng's army of 100,000 monopolized over 90% of the city's food and water sources.

If you want to live, you have to trade with real hard currency.

Paper money had completely become worthless here.

Only gold, jewelry, and bearer bonds could buy the qualification to live one more day from the devil's hands.

...

Global Financial Center.

Top-floor control hall.

Chu Feng sat on the leather sofa, listening to the dense notification sounds in his mind that sounded like rain hitting banana leaves.

[Ding! Detected a large amount of physical gold and jewelry pouring into the system, high-level conversion in progress...]

[Congratulations to the host for obtaining Wealth Points: 3,500!]

[Congratulations to the host for obtaining Wealth Points: 8,200!]

[Congratulations to the host for obtaining Wealth Points: 12,000!]

In just half a day, the underwear hidden under the beds of ten million civilians in Los Santos had been squeezed clean by Chu Feng's "military management harvest."

This was much more intense than simply robbing a bank.

After all, wealth was hidden among the people.

Among those wealthy people in Beverly Hills, who didn't have some hard currency saved away?

Looking at the Wealth Points on the panel that were approaching the one-million mark.

Chu Feng exhaled a thick cloud of cigar smoke, his eyes filled with unbridled madness.

One million Wealth Points.

An absolute cash flow of 10 billion USD!

"Master..."

Evelyn was wearing a very tight-fitting black maid outfit, kneeling beside the coffee table.

This outfit was specially found by Jessica, outlining her devilish figure that rivaled a supermodel's to the fullest.

She held a freshly printed intercepted telegram, a hint of solemnity on her beautiful face.

"The radar we deployed on the edge of the outer sea has detected that the USA Navy 7th Fleet has cut off the California coastline."

"All civilian communication fiber optic cables have been physically severed in the deep sea. Los Santos has now completely become an isolated island cut off from the world."

"Washington has even blocked satellite signals; we can no longer send any images to the outside world."

Chu Feng took the telegram, scanned it casually, and threw it into the ashtray.

"Those old immortals in the Shadow Cabinet are reacting quite quickly."

Chu Feng sneered.

He knew very well that the President in The White House was just a puppet pushed to the front to take the blame.

The ones truly controlling the war machine of the USA were the ancient financial cliques and military-industrial giants behind the scenes that had been passed down for centuries.

"Blockade it if they want to. With the doors closed, I can just suck Los Santos dry."

Chu Feng didn't care at all.

He possessed the system's [Thug Tactical Command Communication Network].

Even if the USA blew up all the satellites on Earth, his army of 100,000 could still maintain absolute command continuity.

Just then.

On the large screen of the holographic console, one of the split-screen displays suddenly lit up with a red warning box.

[Alert: Skynet Matrix has captured an abnormal heat source and contraband chemical reaction in the underground material storage area!]

Chu Feng raised an eyebrow and enlarged the surveillance feed of that screen.

In the image, it was the third underground parking level of the Global Financial Center.

This place had already been converted into a huge material storage area.

Hundreds of tons of flour, drinking water, and canned goods were piled up like mountains.

To maintain the hygiene of the thousands of "Wall Street pigs" inside the building, Chu Feng ordered hundreds of strong hostages to be extracted daily to go to the basement to move materials and clean up trash.

In the surveillance footage at this moment.

Five men in tattered suits, covered in dirt, were pushing a cleaning cart filled with trash, slowly passing through the corridor of the third underground level.

They looked no different from the other Wall Street executives who were so hungry their legs were weak, moving slowly with numb expressions.

But the Skynet Matrix's perspective scanning system locked onto several high-density shadows in their abdominal stomach areas.

"Boss, it's the chemical composition of C4 high-explosive plastic explosives."

The special thug in charge of monitoring typed rapidly on the keyboard and reported coldly: "These five people swallowed specially made anti-gastric acid capsules, hiding the high explosives and micro-detonators in their stomachs. They bypassed the perimeter metal detectors and mixed into today's labor team for cleaning."

Chu Feng stared at the five people on the screen.

Although their gait was feigned to be weak, their footing was extremely steady.

Their eyes always inadvertently swept over the blind spots of the surveillance cameras on the ceiling.

Absolute professionals.

"High-level sleeper agents of the CIA."

Chu Feng saw through their background at a glance.

The Shadow Cabinet knew they couldn't send troops in, so they activated the top-tier spies lurking within Los Santos.

These people might normally just be ordinary traders on Wall Street or executives of some multinational corporation.

Once activated, they were the deadliest ghosts.

Swallowing explosives to infiltrate—this was with the determination to die, intending to blow up his logistics supply reserve at the headquarters.

"Master, should we immediately send a mecha squad to take them out?"

Evelyn looked at the screen, clenching her fair fists nervously.

If the supplies on the third underground level were destroyed, everyone in the building would face famine.

"Take them out? That's too easy on them."

Chu Feng curled his lips into a cruel, ferocious smile.

He stood up and walked to the microphone of the console.

"Notify the patrol squad on the third underground level to let them pass."

"I want to see how much explosive these so-called top-tier agents in the world can actually fit in their stomachs."

...

Third underground level, deep in the material storage area.

The CIA agent codenamed "Silver Fox" pushed the cleaning cart and stopped beside a huge load-bearing pillar.

He vigilantly looked around. Two patrolling thugs in black had just turned the corner of the corridor.

"Now."

Silver Fox lowered his voice.

He issued instructions at an extremely fast speed.

The four agents behind him did not hesitate.

They squatted down directly and dug their fingers fiercely into their own throats.

"Ugh—"

Accompanied by a violent retching, the five people forcibly vomited out a dozen sealed capsules the size of eggs, stained with gastric juice.

Silver Fox wiped the filth off the capsules with his sleeve and skillfully unscrewed the shells.

Inside was clearly milky-white C4 plastic explosive.

They moved extremely fast, kneading the dozen lumps of C4 together and sticking them onto the building's main load-bearing pillar.

Once this pillar was blown up, not only would the supplies on the third underground level be completely buried, but the building's structure would also suffer devastating damage.

Another agent spat out an extremely tiny electronic detonator and carefully inserted it into the C4 explosive.

"Detonator connection normal. Timer set for thirty seconds."

Silver Fox watched the red light on the detonator start to blink, a flash of determination in his eyes.

Mission accomplished; they didn't intend to walk out alive anyway.

"For the USA."

Silver Fox prayed in a low voice.

He pressed his thumb onto the micro-remote control, preparing to press the start button.

However.

Just at the moment he was about to exert force.

In the ventilation duct above his head, an extremely harsh electronic noise suddenly came out.

Immediately after, the dim lighting on the third underground level instantly turned into an eerie blood red.

"Beep."

Silver Fox discovered with horror that the signal light on the remote control in his hand suddenly went out.

Not only the remote control, but even the micro-detonator inserted into the C4 explosive stopped pulsing and completely turned into a piece of scrap iron.

Strong electromagnetic interference!

"Fuck! We've been exposed!"

Silver Fox reacted extremely quickly, suddenly pulling out a ceramic dagger hidden in the sole of his shoe.

"Clap, clap, clap."

A slow, unhurried sound of applause.

Came from the end of the empty corridor!