Chapter 210: This Is Way Too Fucking Ridiculous! Are We Shooting a Movie?

Chapter 210: This Is Way Too Fucking Ridiculous! Are We Shooting a Movie?

It truly was too fast.

Mao Rusong stood too close to Wu Chen. Only a desk separated them, and he had extended his arm fully to aim the gun.

Wu Chen could reach it simply by stretching out his hand.

The difference in their reactions and awareness was the difference between the world’s best and an ordinary man.

Wu Chen seized the gun in an instant and turned it on Mao Rusong.

It was not until the weapon was already in Wu Chen’s right hand, and he had lowered his left to pick up his phone, that Mao Rusong and the dozen-odd people in the room finally reacted.

“Boss!”

“Fifth Master!”

“You little bastard, you dare—”

The bodyguards and the men near the door all moved as if to rush him.

The three men on the sofa sprang to their feet as well.

Someone even pulled a knife from inside his clothes.

Mao Rusong, however, abruptly raised a hand and gestured to everyone around him.

Don’t move.

Modu was very different from Donghai.

In Donghai, four major underworld bosses had effectively divided the territory among themselves.

There was no such arrangement in Modu.

The situation was far more complicated, and public security was much tighter, with stricter enforcement.

Guns were especially sensitive in Modu.

Mao Rusong did not normally carry one. He brought one only occasionally when handling certain matters, though he always kept a handgun in his office.

The men under him did not carry guns.

Not one of them.

Modu was a place where a shooting absolutely could not be allowed to happen.

So they could not have them.

Which meant that the only gun in the room was now in Wu Chen’s hand.

And it was pointed at Mao Rusong.

Mao Rusong remained calm.

He might have been a rough man, but he had weathered plenty of storms. Having the gun snatched from him in an instant had shaken him badly, yet he showed no fear on his face.

He understood the situation perfectly.

Wu Chen had the gun.

If his men acted recklessly—or even said the wrong thing—they might get him killed.

Sun Jiamei stood rigidly to one side, not daring to move. Her face had gone deathly pale.

Ring, ring… Ring, ring…

In the office, which had fallen abruptly silent, only Wu Chen’s phone continued to ring.

Under everyone’s staring eyes, Wu Chen behaved as though nothing had happened.

He kept the gun raised in one hand and answered with the other, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Which woman are you with? What took you so long to answer?” Wu Yurong asked in her gentle, sweet voice.

“I’m in the middle of something,” Wu Chen replied.

“A whole day, and you haven’t even called me once. You really are heartless~” Wu Yurong said.

Her tone was teasing, with the faintest seductive edge.

“In such a hurry? Miss me already?” Wu Chen asked with a smile.

“I do. I even dreamed about you last night. I’ve missed you so much I can barely stand it.”

Wu Yurong had no qualms about expressing what she wanted.

They had already crossed that line.

She was not going to act bashful like some young girl.

Wu Yurong had been married and divorced, and her daughter was already twenty years old.

But Wu Chen was the first man she had ever been with.

And he would certainly be the last.

“Do you have time for lunch together? Or…” Wu Yurong asked, “are you with Li Ruobing?”

“I’m out of town. I’ll be back in Donghai in a couple of days,” Wu Chen said.

“You left town?” Wu Yurong paused.

“Yeah.”

She fell silent for a moment, thinking.

She did not ask where he had gone or what exactly he was doing.

She could guess that if Wu Chen had left town to handle something, it might be connected to Ding Ruilong. The explanation could become complicated, and there was no need to pry over the phone.

“All right, then. It seems poor, lonely me will have to eat lunch all by myself,” Wu Yurong said sweetly.

“Don’t make it sound so tragic. Didn’t you eat alone before?” Wu Chen laughed.

“That’s not the same,” Wu Yurong retorted.

Then, in an exceedingly soft, sweet murmur, she added, “Bad man. This is all your fault. Fine, enough. You take care of your business.”

“All right. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Mm. Okay.”

Everyone in the office simply watched Wu Chen talk on the phone.

Everyone except a thin man around thirty with a small mustache, who was slowly creeping toward Wu Chen’s back on almost soundless feet.

No one else dared move carelessly.

They were afraid that even the slightest noise might cause an accidental shot.

Everyone in the room could tell that Wu Chen was speaking to a woman.

Not because they could hear the voice through the phone, but because Wu Chen had said, “Miss me already?”

His tone made it equally obvious that he was talking to his woman.

None of them could understand how this young man named Wu Chen could still be in the mood to chat so casually with her at a time like this, relaxed and smiling.

For Mao Rusong, standing with a gun trained on him, time seemed to pass especially slowly.

The fact that he looked calm did not mean he felt no pressure.

Every second felt like a year.

Wu Chen’s conversation with Wu Yurong was not actually very long, but to Mao Rusong it seemed endless.

Finally, the call ended.

After hanging up, Wu Chen tapped the power button—not turning the phone off, merely putting the screen to sleep.

As he slipped it away, he glanced at the darkened screen.

The movement was both professional and entirely natural.

In truth, he was using the screen as a mirror to see what was happening behind him.

Footsteps could never be completely silent.

While he was on the phone, Wu Chen had already noticed someone cautiously approaching from behind.

He needed only to confirm the man’s position and posture.

The mustached man had already taken four steps.

Only another four separated him from Wu Chen’s back.

In his right hand, held in a reverse grip, was a kukri-like hunting knife. His entire body was coiled, ready to explode into motion at any instant.

An expert.

After putting his phone in his pocket, Wu Chen glanced at Mao Rusong, who stood behind the desk with a steady expression but a slightly rigid body, not daring to move.

Then Wu Chen suddenly reached back.

His right arm, still holding the gun, swept across the front of his body and beneath his left armpit.

The muzzle pointed behind him.

He pulled the trigger.

Bang!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Seven shots rang out in succession.

Wu Chen had opened fire.

From the instant he swept his arm back to the seventh shot, the entire sequence flowed as a single motion.

But the mustached man had not been shot.

When Wu Chen fired the first round, the man stood with his arm extended slightly to the side, holding the hunting knife in a reverse grip, and was just beginning to lift one foot.

The bullet struck the knife in his hand.

The weapon flew from his grip.

But it did not shoot straight away.

Instead, it spun up into the air like a boomerang.

The effect depended entirely on where the knife had been struck.

It could remain spinning in midair for only a fraction of a second.

But that fraction was enough for Wu Chen to fire again.

The next five bullets all struck the hunting knife.

The blade bounced repeatedly in midair, spinning faster with every impact.

Only the seventh and final shot sent it flying away.

Thunk!

It buried itself in the wall on the opposite side of the office.

It sounded complicated when described.

In reality, the entire sequence took only a few seconds.

The moment the knife flew from his hand, the mustached man crouched in fright.

Before he could do anything else, he froze.

Everyone in the room had seen it, including him.

Every last one of them was fucking stunned.

The shock numbed their entire bodies.

What the hell?

What was this?

Were they shooting a movie?!

This was way too fucking ridiculous!

Keeping an object suspended in the air by hitting it with shot after shot was the sort of trick movies often used to demonstrate impossible marksmanship.

Could shooting like that truly exist in real life?

Even more shocking—and utterly incomprehensible—was the fact that Wu Chen had never turned around.

He had not looked behind him at all.

Yet somehow, he had produced this almost supernatural result.

It was impossible.

Like a dream.

When the string of gunshots ended and Wu Chen brought the weapon back in front of him, everyone in the office except Wu Chen wore the same blank, stupefied expression.

None of them could recover.

It felt almost unreal.

Yet this was Wu Chen’s true marksmanship.

When it came specifically to handguns, Wu Chen dared call himself number one in the world.

Competition champions, special forces, special police—

He did not believe that anyone could surpass him with a handgun.

That was partly due to the consequence-free training made possible by the loop’s daily resets, and partly to the memory, concentration, and learning ability that had continued to improve throughout those thousand years.

Wu Chen pointed the gun at Mao Rusong again.

Mao Rusong shuddered.

Every trace of composure vanished from his face. He spoke at once, but now he was stammering.

“F-Friend, I don’t know who sent you to kill me. I’ll give you twenty million! No—fifty. F-Fifty million! I’ll give you fifty million! Spare me!”