185: Chapter 185 Is this what you call execution?

He couldn't move.

The gunman was on high ground with a wide field of vision; as long as he exposed half his head from behind the reef, the other party could open fire.

Over three hundred meters was no different from backyard target practice for a sniper rifle.

Lin Fan touched his waist.

The crossbow was gone, having slipped from his hand when he lunged forward earlier, but the dagger was still there.

Right at that moment, a line of text continued to pop up on his retina.

[The shooter is remaining stationary, waiting for the target to expose himself.]

Wait.

The other party was waiting for him to make a mistake.

Lin Fan knew that professional shooters had great patience and could lie in one position for several hours.

Yang Ningcong's voice came from the beach.

That fellow was lying in the mud, still shouting with a hoarse voice.

"Laoliu... blow his brains out for me... kill him, and I'll give you six million when we get back..."

Lin Fan leaned against the stone and closed his eyes for a moment.

Yang Ningcong's man.

This group of people not only brought military supplies when they went out to sea, but also brought a sniper.

The four bodyguards were on the surface, and this gunman was the trump card hidden in the dark.

The tsunami shattered the boat, and the bodyguards were all washed up on the beach unconscious, but the gunman wasn't with them.

Yang Ningcong was prepared for this shipwreck, and he was fully prepared.

Two more lines popped up on his retina.

[The target shooter is stationary, current state is a stalemate.]

[Supplementary information: The shooter has not fired at other personnel, confirming the target is only you.]

Since it was only him, it could be even more certain that this person belonged to Yang Ningcong, and not the group in the woods who wanted to kill Wang Lan.

The gunman was Yang Ningcong's man, and Yang Ningcong was the soft spot.

As long as he dragged Yang Ningcong to his side, that gun barrel would become scrap metal.

No matter how accurate the muzzle three hundred meters away was, it wouldn't dare fire at its own employer's head.

Lin Fan shrank half an inch further into the crack of the reef, tilting one eye to sweep across the beach.

Yang Ningcong was lying a dozen meters away.

The middle was entirely an open area without any cover.

Broken wooden boards and foam blocks were scattered around, but not a single thing was higher than a knee.

A dozen meters could be run in three seconds under normal circumstances.

But a sniper only needed one and a half seconds to reload and aim.

Halfway through the run, a person would be dead, so he had to think of another way.

Lin Fan waited for characters to jump on his retina to lift the current crisis, but right now there was nothing.

He blinked twice, and still there was nothing.

This damn system stalled out again.

When it was chasing and hitting with three shots just now, line after line jumped more lively than bullet screens, talking about half a foot to the left, diving after nine steps, eager to make every step of his accurate to the millimeter.

When it was time for it to offer ideas, the screen was cleaner than if it had been shut down.

Lin Fan cursed silently in his heart.

Unreliable, but it wasn't the first time either.

This damn system never played by the rules; sometimes it wished it could teach him how to breathe hand-in-hand, and sometimes it could stay quiet all day like it had never been installed.

Fine, no hint means no hint; he didn't rely entirely on this gadget to live until now.

Lin Fan pulled the dagger from his waist and held it in his hand. Before he could make his next move, Yang Ningcong's voice came from the beach again.

Yang Ningcong didn't know which direction Laoliu was specifically in, but the woods were where the last gunshot came from.

He raised his head from the mud and shouted at the top of his lungs toward the tree line.

"Laoliu! Never mind that trash first! Come down and help me untie the rope!"

There was no movement whatsoever in the direction of the tree line.

Under that lead-gray sky, the treetops were swaying slightly in the sea breeze, and the gaps between the branches and leaves flickered on and off, making it completely impossible to tell where anyone was hiding.

But Yang Ningcong knew Laoliu was listening.

That was a sniper his father had spent a heavy sum to poach from an overseas mercenary group. His marksmanship was freakishly accurate, and it was said he had worked as a private military contractor in Africa for three years, with solid skills on his hands.

This time out at sea, to ensure nothing went wrong, he specially let Laoliu bring his gear, hiding both the person and the gun in the ship's secret cabin where no one knew.

He didn't expect it to actually come in handy.

Yang Ningcong continued to roar: "Did you hear that? I told you to come down!"

His wrists had lost sensation from being strangled by the hemp rope, and his fingertips were purple and swollen.

His ankles were even more achy and unbearable. All that aside, the few hits Lin Fan gave him just now hurt so much it tore his lungs apart.

Yang Ningcong extremely hated this out-of-control situation.

This feeling of lying on the ground like a beast drove him even madder than getting slapped.

The tree line remained deathly still.

Three hundred meters away.

Laoliu was lying at the intersection of two thick tree forks, his right eye pressed against the optical scope.

The crosshairs firmly locked onto the right side of that pile of reefs on the beach, which was the location where the target last poked his head out.

Of course he heard Yang Ningcong's cursing and yelling, but he couldn't move.

The distance to the target was over three hundred meters, with an elevation difference of about sixty meters.

If he climbed down the tree now, passed through the vegetation under his feet messed up by the tsunami, broken branches, mud, fallen trees, and then walked across the debris-filled beach, it would take at least four to five minutes at the fastest.

In these four to five minutes, he would completely lose fire suppression on Lin Fan.

Furthermore, that kid hiding behind the stone had an abnormally fast reaction speed.

Laoliu recalled the three shots just now.

The first shot, he chose the best timing; the target was squatting in front of Yang Ningcong, his attention entirely on the interrogation, and his side profile exposed the largest area.

Three hundred meters, light breeze, slightly high humidity but within a controllable range.

He corrected the windage and pulled the trigger. In less than a second, that kid's head would blossom.

But that person suddenly changed from a completely stationary squatting posture into a blurred shadow ejecting toward the front right.

He didn't react only after hearing the gunshot.

Gunshots were slower than bullets; he moved before the bullet arrived.

This was unreasonable.

The second and third shots were even more outrageous.

The target's directional changes during movement had no regular pattern whatsoever. It wasn't simple zigzag running, but some kind of rhythm he had never seen before: three steps in a straight line, sudden deviation, another three steps, another deviation, and then plunging down without any warning.

Every directional change was precisely jammed into the fraction of a second before he fired.

It was as if someone was reporting his shooting rhythm in real-time by that kid's ear.

Laoliu licked his dry, cracked lips.

This kind of reaction ability either came from top-tier special forces, or... he didn't know how to explain it.

But one point could be confirmed: this kid's combat literacy was at least on the same level as his, or even higher.

As long as he left this position, that kid definitely had time to rush out from behind the reef.

A distance of a little over ten meters, less than three seconds.

Then the knife would be at Yang Ningcong's neck.

By then, things really couldn't be wrapped up.

Laoliu held his breath, his index finger resting on the outside of the trigger guard; he could only wait.

Waiting for Lin Fan to fail to restrain himself and expose even an area of a single shoulder.

Then he could instantly kill him.

But Yang Ningcong didn't want to think about these things.

He only knew he had spent money, spent a huge amount of money.

This gunman named Wang Laoliu had a monthly salary of 1.8 million.

The headhunting company screened him layer by layer from retired personnel of foreign special forces, and his resume was full of excellence, elite status, and extremely strong execution.

Where was the execution?

I told you to come down and you didn't come down. Is this called execution?

If I spend over twenty million a year to raise a dog, when I call it, it at least knows how to wag its tail and run over.

"Wang Laoliu!"

Yang Ningcong's throat no longer sounded human.

"If you fucking don't come down again, I'll have my dad ban you across the entire internet and make you pay hundreds of millions in breach-of-contract penalties."