The night provided Dean with the best cover. He charged into the wilderness like a specter, quickly making his way toward the distant woods. His Endurance was only nine. At full burst, he could only maintain it for a few brief minutes.
As he approached the forest, Dean immediately slowed his pace. After adjusting his somewhat rapid breathing, he crept into the trees. Fighting around the Fourth Squad’s position continued, but the sniper hidden in the darkness didn’t bother with others trying to break through. His location was unknown; it seemed he was only providing cover for the three survivors charging toward the Fourth Squad.
Dean was calm and collected, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He was waiting for an opportunity—an opportunity for the enemy to reveal themselves by firing!
As for Lawrence and Harry, Dean could only pray they were lucky enough!
「A cold, rainy night.」
The pine forest was deathly still. Under immense pressure, Dean’s attention was more focused than ever. His ears twitched subtly, collecting the sounds of raindrops, trying to locate the sniper. His flesh and bones were continuously being strengthened. As a side effect, his senses—sight, smell, and hearing—were gradually surpassing those of an ordinary person.
Suddenly, Dean halted, looking five meters to his left. There, the sound of the rain is somewhat brittle!
He didn’t hesitate, raising his M1911 and pulling the trigger.
Almost simultaneously, Lawrence and Harry opened fire in the distance!
Underneath the camouflage, the sniper’s expression was grim, his breathing long and controlled. Seeing gunfire light up in the distance, he minutely adjusted the barrel of his rifle, just about to pull the trigger.
A chilling sense of crisis suddenly enveloped his back.
Just as he thought to roll over and evade, the next moment—
Three shots to pinpoint the location. Three muffled thuds followed.
Dean felt a wave of relief. He’s hit by all three!
He immediately emptied his magazine, suppressing that spot while dashing behind a pine tree to reload with a fresh magazine.
A pained, irrepressible gasp came from five meters away.
He isn’t dead, but he’s in bad shape.
The M1911 Dean used was loaded with .45 caliber bullets, powerful enough that even if the enemy wore a bulletproof vest, it would still cause significant bruising or even fractures. Three consecutive shots. A normal person definitely couldn’t handle that!
But Dean didn’t rush out immediately. He glanced at the distribution of pine trees, took a flashbang from his pocket, removed the pin, timed it, and threw it at the trunk of a distant pine. Then, he ran in the opposite direction without looking back.
The next moment, the flashbang ricocheted, landing precisely above where the gasping came from, and exploded. Bright light and sound waves, like a small sun bursting forth, ravaged the outskirts of the pine forest.
Amidst the piercing tinnitus, Dean used the scattered pine trees as cover, circled around, and approached the man lying motionless on the ground from behind. He stomped on the man’s shoulder.
An agonized scream tore from the prone man’s lips. His broad shoulders, now like brittle wood, had caved in.
This skilled sniper is finished.
Playing unconscious! Dean sneered coldly. He’s no fool. Flashbangs are different from concussion grenades; they only have a significant effect in enclosed spaces. In the open, they only serve as a distraction and can’t actually knock someone out. And I don’t care if he’s faking it or not; I’m crippling his limbs first!
Dean stomped three more times. The sniper, who had been feigning unconsciousness, truly passed out from the pain this time.
After disabling the enemy’s limbs, Dean finally took a breather and looked toward the Fourth Squad’s position. There was no movement there anymore. Instead, the fighting in other surrounding areas had become even more ferocious.
Dean was now certain. These bastards are definitely elite mercenaries. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have the capability to counter-assault while encircled!
Considering the orders Monet had previously received, Dean’s eyes darkened. He suspected that the higher-ups who issued the commands knew the identity of this group and even knew why they were risking so much to attack the Dagger Gang’s secret suburban encampment.
That son of a bitch. They’re using us as hitmen, to silence people!
"Snetter! It must be the Snet Family!" Dean exhaled, a breath of pent-up frustration escaping him.
And Harry! How did he know about the relationship between the Dagger Gang and the Snet Family? For the sake of reputation, prominent regional families like that, even if they support shady operations, do so indirectly and would never easily expose themselves. Only forces on the same level could know these things. This isn’t something Harry and his cronies could access. They’re way out of their league!
Dean shook his head. These questions will have to wait until after this is all over. I’ll ask Harry then. Time is short. I have to deal with this sniper now.
After briefly clearing the traces around him, Dean picked up the Barrett rifle, dragged the half-dead man on the ground, and walked deeper into the pine forest. He didn’t want to get involved in such matters while he was still weak. But I have to remember this slight!
To get to the bottom of things, he had to wake the unconscious sniper.
This shouldn’t be hard. Fainting from pain-induced shock is a bodily stress response. Hormones are secreted, affecting blood pressure and blood sugar, leading to cerebral hypoxia and unconsciousness. This state doesn’t last very long.
But Dean didn’t have that much time to waste. After dragging the sniper deeper into the pine forest, he pulled a morphine syrette from his pocket and injected its contents into the man’s neck.