60: Chapter 60 Hot Pot Base Recognizes Kinship!

"Are you the Gardener here to take care of me?"

Li Li's Hebrew accent was extremely authentic, carrying the distinct slurred pronunciation of the streets of Tel Aviv.

The Gardener opened her mouth.

No sound came out.

Li Li didn't have time to wait for her to work up the nerve.

He reached out with his left hand.

He struck precisely at the carotid artery on the back of the Gardener's neck.

The force was perfectly gauged. The Gardener didn't even manage a groan; her body instantly went limp like a pile of mud, collapsing onto the carpet.

There wasn't enough time.

The accomplices inside the blast-proof door could discover the anomaly in the hallway at any moment. Once it was locked from the inside, this thirty-centimeter-thick pure steel door couldn't even be blown open with C4.

Li Li crouched down.

He pressed his fingers directly into the pool of blood on the carpet that belonged to the fat man.

The blood was viscous and still warm.

He grabbed a handful of the grayish-white dust shaken off the walls.

He closed his hands and rubbed them together quickly.

In his mind, [System Skill: Makeup Mastery] activated automatically.

Li Li's fingers moved rapidly across his face.

Applying pressure with his fingertips, he massaged along the contours of his facial muscles.

With his fingernails, he picked out several realistic-looking abrasions on his forehead, mixing them with the blood of others—a shocking sight.

He smeared large, irregular bloodstains over his cheekbones, destroying his original bone structure.

The lower half of his face was completely covered in dust and gunpowder smoke.

Three seconds.

A battle-damaged face, ravaged by high-explosive shrapnel and covered in grime, was freshly baked.

Even his own mother would have to apply for a DNA test on the spot if she stood here.

Li Li stood up.

He strode over to the body of the nasally-voiced man on the ground.

He ripped off that black tactical bulletproof vest.

He put it directly over his own LV black suit, which was riddled with holes.

He picked up the Uzi submachine gun from the ground and hung it around his neck. His right hand still gripped the glock 17 tightly, hiding it under the hem of the oversized vest.

He walked to the silver-gray blast-proof door.

He pressed the reset button on the keypad.

He picked up the slip of paper with the numbers. This was the backup verification code he had heard the hoarse-voiced man muttering earlier.

His fingers tapped the numbers rapidly.

A heavy mechanical clinking sound came from inside the door.

Click.

The silver-gray blast-proof door slid open to both sides.

Just as a thirty-centimeter gap appeared.

Two pitch-black submachine gun barrels were shoved directly out.

The spy who opened the door was wearing a black tactical mask, revealing only a pair of bloodshot eyes.

His gaze locked onto Li Li's blood-stained face.

Immediately after, the spy's gaze swept past Li Li's shoulder toward the hallway.

Corpses littered the floor.

Gunpowder smoke filled the air.

The walls were densely packed with bullet holes.

The spy leveled the gun barrel in his hand.

Pointing it directly at the center of Li Li's forehead.

"What happened?"

Hebrew. The voice was very tense, and his finger was already pressing on the trigger.

Li Li raised his hands above his head.

The Uzi submachine gun dangled in front of his chest with the movement, a posture of complete surrender.

Hebrew escaped his lips.

Carrying the heavy panting of someone who had survived a disaster, along with a sense of resentment for having been screwed over.

"The hostages turned on us."

"There's a madman in the Royal Guard who strapped grenades to his body."

"It's all over."

"I'm just lucky to have survived."

The spy didn't lower his gun.

His gaze confirmed the miserable-looking corpses in the hallway once more.

"Codename."

"Gardener." Li Li answered without hesitation.

The spy's facial muscles tightened, and the stock of his submachine gun pressed firmly into his shoulder socket.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"The Gardener for this operation is a woman."

Li Li sighed.

His chest heaved violently, his tone full of the helplessness of a worker exploited by an outsourcing company.

"She was unlucky; she was injured by her own bombing the day before yesterday."

"Her lungs were pierced by shrapnel."

"She's lying outside gasping for air, probably not going to make it."

"I'm her substitute."

"Gardener B."

The spy was silent for two seconds.

Mossad's organizational management did indeed have this ridiculous tradition. To prevent codenames from being leaked and causing chaos mid-mission, substitute personnel in the same operation group all shared one codename. Usually, they relied on internal secret codes to distinguish themselves.

The spy's gun barrel pushed forward an inch, almost poking into the bloodstain on Li Li's forehead.

"Secret code."

Li Li's brain turned rapidly.

Just now in the hallway, the man with the nasal voice had said a sentence while looting the bodies.

An extremely classic line for a Israel agent.

Li Li lowered his voice, making it hoarse.

"Dead men tell no tales."

The spy's tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

The gun barrel lowered.

He stepped aside.

"Get in."

"Move fast."

Li Li stepped sideways and squeezed into the blast-proof door.

Bang.

The door locked behind him again.

This was a secure conference room of nearly two hundred square meters.

There were no windows. The surroundings were all cold, hard bulletproof steel plates. The ventilation duct at the top flashed with the red light of an infrared detector.

There were three spies in the room.

One who opened the door.

One leading figure stood in front of the console, frantically tapping on a virtual keyboard, cracking the final communication blockade.

One leaned against the sofa in the corner, his left arm wrapped in a thick tourniquet, fresh blood having already soaked through the polymer bandage and dripping onto the floor.

And in the very center of the conference room.

The President of Ala Country, Zair.

The Deputy Prime Minister Mohammed of Ala Country.

The Seventh Prince of Dubai, Fahd.

The three most powerful men in the Middle East. Top-tier big shots who controlled the lifeline of the Persian Gulf and could shake global oil prices with a wave of their fingers.

At this moment, all of them had their hands tied behind their backs with black industrial nylon zip ties.

Squatting in a neat row in the corner of the wall.

Fahd, having heard the door, suddenly raised his head.

A glimmer of hope flashed in his eyes, thinking it was the Royal Guard rescue.

Seeing Li Li's unfamiliar, blood-stained face.

Seeing the tactical vest and the Uzi submachine gun on Li Li.

That glimmer of hope extinguished instantly.

Fahd's head drooped, completely dejected, and he even closed his eyes in despair.

Zair leaned against the wall, his face as dark as water.

Deputy Prime Minister Mohammed gritted his teeth, staring fixedly at the floor.

Li Li stood where he was, unmoving.

He was already overjoyed in his heart.

This scene was amazing.

If eighty million netizens saw this scene, the barrage would definitely crash the server.

Ten minutes ago, these three were still eating Hotpot outside, chatting and laughing, enjoying the sense of security brought by the East's Type 055 destroyer.

Ten minutes later, squatting in a row, waiting for their fate.

No one paid attention to the newly entered "Gardener B."

The leading spy only focused on staring at the screen.

The injured one leaned against the wall gasping for air.

The spy who opened the door returned to the entrance, holding his gun in guard.

Li Li walked very naturally to the empty space next to the injured spy.

He stood against the wall.

Gun barrel pointed down.

Hands crossed in front of him.

A standard standing posture for outsourced security personnel.

Fifteen minutes passed.

The secure cabin was extremely quiet.

There was only the sound of the ventilation duct and the suppressed groans of the injured spy.

The tense muscles of the three spies gradually relaxed.

Li Li's gaze swept over the three of them calmly.

He figured out their positions.

He calculated the blind spots of their firepower.

The distance was too far; if he rose up simultaneously, it would be no problem to take out two with the Glock, but the third would definitely have time to shoot. If these three "cash cow" big shots were hit by bullets, his treat of Hotpot would have been in vain.

He had to wait for an opportunity.

Beep.

The leading spy's tactical terminal emitted a short prompt sound.

The screen lit up with a green light.

He lowered his head and glanced at it.

He suddenly straightened up.

"External evacuation route established."

"Departing in three minutes."

"Take these three cash cows with us."

"Move fast!"

The spy who opened the door walked over, roughly grabbing Zair by the back of his collar, pulling the seventy-something-year-old president up from the ground.

The injured spy gritted his teeth and walked toward Deputy Prime Minister Mohammed.

Fahd suddenly twisted his body violently.

He shouted loudly in Arabic.

"Wait a minute!"

"I need to go to the restroom!"

The leading spy walked over with big strides.

The gun stock smashed heavily onto Fahd's shoulder.

Fahd shuddered in pain, gasping for air.

He still didn't back down.

"You can kill me."

"But I absolutely will not leave with wet pants!"

"I am the Prince of Dubai!"

"My dignity does not allow me to board your helicopter smelling of urine!"

"You can leave if you want."

"Let me go pee!"

The leading spy's eardrums hurt from the noise, and his brows twisted into a knot.

He looked at the countdown on the terminal.

Two minutes left.

He turned to look at Li Li, who was standing against the wall.

"New guy."

"You take him."

The leading spy pointed to the attached restroom in the corner of the conference room.

"If he tries anything funny."

"Break his legs directly."

"We only need them alive; we don't need them complete."

Li Li nodded.

Not a word of nonsense.

He stepped forward.

His left hand grabbed Fahd's back collar.

The force was immense.

He lifted the 160-plus-jin Fahd up with one hand.

Fahd stumbled twice, his shoulder aching from the strain, and was half-pushed, half-dragged by Li Li to the restroom door.

Li Li twisted the doorknob.

He pushed Fahd inside roughly.

He followed him in.

Backhanded.

Click.

He locked the door.

The restroom was not large, only a few square meters.

The incandescent light was pale and blinding.

A huge mirror was embedded above the sink, reflecting the figures of the two.

Fahd turned around.

His hands, tied behind his back, trembled slightly, and his face was pale.

He stared at Li Li's face, which was covered in blood, dust, and gunpowder smoke.

It was completely the face of a strange, cold-blooded killer.

Fahd swallowed, preparing to say something soft to stall for time.

His gaze involuntarily shifted downward.

Sweeping past the black tactical vest.

Stopping at the edge of Li Li's tattered suit.

On the hem of that suit.

There was a dried, dark red mark.

Surrounded by a ring of oil stains.

Red oil.

Hotpot base.

Fahd's gaze was nailed to that drop of red oil.

In the entire Middle East, the only person who could wear a black suit today, get stained with Hotpot base, and infiltrate this secure cabin was one person.

Fahd's Adam's apple rolled violently.

His eyes turned red instantly.

He suddenly raised his head, staring fixedly at Li Li's eyes.

There was no surveillance around.

No wiretaps.

Fahd's chest heaved significantly, and he even forgot to breathe.

He looked at Li Li.

His lips moved.

Stiff, broken Chinese with a heavy cumin accent.

"I eat Hotpot base."