As all this unfolded, Jiang Zhentai stood at the back of the crowd, a fruit bowl in his left hand, his right in his pocket, texting on his phone. Seeing this
, he sensed something was amiss. Zhang Mingjun, a man who could pull off a bloody crime in the United States and escape unscathed, didn't know how Michael Joe would die, but he knew that if he died, no one here would survive
. As Jiang Zhentai slowly retreated, trying to find a place to hide, Zhang Mingjun reached for the large ice bucket on the table in front of him, as if the thing pressing against his head was just a toy.
The bucket, freshly brought in by the waiter, was filled with ice, with two bottles of high-end red wine on top.
"You agree?" Michael Joe looked at Zhang Mingjun suspiciously, unable to believe the two sides had "reached" so easily.
"Of course. That's a full $5 million. Thank you for your consideration. Now that the wine's here, why don't we have a drink?" Before he could finish his words, Zhang Mingjun plunged his hand into the ice.
At the same moment, the waiter who had brought the ice bucket suddenly stepped forward and joined Zhang Mingjun's three men. He lifted his jacket and vest, revealing four pistols tucked into his waistband.
Before Michael Joe and the bodyguards behind him could react, Zhang Mingjun already had another pistol in his hand, and hot bullets were blasting out of its cold barrel in a continuous stream.
Behind him, the three men, who had been standing closely together, simultaneously reached out, pulled their pistols from the waiter's waist, and continuously pulled the triggers at the stunned row of bodyguards across from them.
As this terrifying scene unfolded, Jiang Zhentai had already slinked to the wall. Knowing that two more bodyguards were stationed outside the suite, he had desperately sought shelter at the bar on the other side.
The moment the gunshots rang out, he ducked under the bar, pulled out his phone, and tremblingly sent a second text message.
Caught off guard, Michael Joe collapsed silently onto the sofa. Of the dozen or so bodyguards behind him, only a handful managed to draw their guns and return fire, soon collapsing in a pool of blood.
Two innocent waiters, seeing the situation was dire, turned and fled for the door, only to be shot in the back and fall to the ground.
The suite door was flung open, and the two bodyguards standing at the entrance rushed in. Before they could fire a single shot, Zhang Mingjun and his men turned their guns on them and killed them instantly.
The last bodyguard to enter slowly collapsed against the door, his eyes fixed on Jiang Zhentai, who was hiding behind the bar on the other side, seemingly still unaware of what had happened.
Five against fourteen, Zhang Mingjun and his four men prevailed, with only one man suffering a minor bruise on his shoulder.
"Let me go, please, the money is yours, let me go." The second-generation rich man, shot twice in the chest, was surprisingly still alive. He struggled to pull the bank's electronic key from his pocket.
Zhang Mingjun squatted before him, taking the key. He sighed pretentiously, "Actually, money can be considered a poison, right? Once you're addicted, it makes you reckless."
Gunshots rang out, blood splattering across Zhang Mingjun's grim face.
With a clang, the suite door was kicked open. Lin Zheling peered out to see bodies strewn across the floor. Everyone still standing in the room had their guns trained on him.
Bullets ripped through the door and walls, sending shrapnel flying.
Seeing it was an old acquaintance, Zhang Mingjun smiled cruelly. He licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, reloaded his pistol, and gestured to his men.
"Kill him!"
Including the man disguised as a waiter, the four men cautiously dispersed, using the furniture as cover as they formed a siege around the door.
One of them happened to move to the side of the bar and noticed something strange in front of him. He looked over and found that he was standing above and below the nervous Jiang Zhentai, and their eyes met.
Before he could react, the suite door opened again and a stun grenade was thrown in.
By the time Jiang Zhentai recovered, Lin Zheling, who had rushed into the suite, had already dispatched the gunman, who was just across the bar from him, and had also "delivered" him a weapon.
After throwing the stun grenade, Anna lifted the hem of her dress, revealing two Glock 19s hidden beneath.
She tumbled into the suite, her slender arms stretched straight as she dual-wielded the guns, as if recoil were nonexistent, creating an utterly unreal experience.
Jack was the last to enter. With a single shot, he knocked Zhang Mingjun's pistol out of his hand. The shattering bullet fragments streaked across his eyes, nearly achieving the achievement of killing the boss of this scene.
Gunfire, far more intense than just a few minutes before, echoed throughout the vast, three-hundred-to-four-hundred-square-meter suite.
Zhang Mingjun, struck by the stun grenade, had already lost the initiative. Though he fought back, fighting back despite the dizziness, luck didn't lift his skirt this time.
Both sides were professionals, but Jack's side was clearly superior. Not to mention Anna, an operational agent, Lin Zheling's skills were clearly far superior to those of an average soldier.
The only weakling was Detective Jiang Zhentai, who usually only managed a small revolver. He might have fired more bullets in his entire life than the gunfire he heard today.
Although Jack's FK7.5 also used pistol ammunition, the bullet was slightly longer than the 10mm AUTO rounds, and its 1200 joules of muzzle energy was a deadly weapon in such close-range fire. The
seemingly thickly padded leather sofa was shattered into pieces. Even the gunman, hiding behind two rows of sofas, couldn't avoid his precise bursts of fire, crouching down and unable to rise. Meanwhile,
Anna also scored a kill. The battle, which had initially been at least evenly matched in terms of numbers, became a one-sided crushing defeat in just ten seconds.
"Let's go!" Zhang Mingjun, bleeding from his eyes and right hand, opened the fire door at the end of the suite, leading to the emergency exit.
"Go away, Captain!" The only one still alive besides him was the subordinate who was disguised as a waiter like Jiang Zhentai.
He emptied his magazine randomly towards the opposite side, threw away the gun, and shoved Zhang Mingjun into the safe passage, blocking the fire door with his body.
"We must avenge our families!"
However, before he finished speaking, the fire door that normally opened outwards seemed to be hit by a battering ram and forcibly opened a crack inwards.
The gunshots stopped abruptly, and the dead body with eyes open slowly slid to the ground. A moment later, a voice with an obvious questioning tone of "Ashiba" came from the door.
The severely deformed iron-clad door was pulled open with a sharp creaking sound.
"Why is this door opening outwards?"
Ma Xidao muttered to himself, holding the dead dog-like Zhang Mingjun by the back of the neck with one hand. Seeing the black muzzles of the guns all pointing at him, he was so scared that he quickly blocked them in front of him.
(End of this chapter)