Courtyard House: Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor) Traded for an Aircraft Carrier, the Whole Count

Time seemed to slow down at that moment.

The moment the [Sharpshooter Possession] card took effect, the world in Jiang Chen's eyes was no longer the pitch-black, chaotic night, but a three-dimensional model constructed from countless crisscrossing data lines.

The dim moonlight became as bright as day in his eyes. The coal dust particles floating in the air, the white mist exhaled by Old Li's rapid breathing, and even the slightest movement of the treetops in the distance as they were blown by the wind, were all accurately captured, quantified, and analyzed by these "eyes of death".

That was an absolute confidence that allowed one to control everything.

In his field of vision, the outline of Lao Li's body, hidden behind the stick, was highlighted by a glaring red line. Although Lao Li tried his best to curl up and hide himself completely in the shadow of the hostage, all his cover became a joke under this kind of see-through data modeling.

At this moment, due to extreme tension, Old Li tilted his head slightly to the right by about three centimeters in order to observe Jiang Chen's movements.

Between his brow and the right ear of the staff, a fleeting, coin-sized opening appeared for shooting.

Distance: 12.3 meters.

Windage correction: shift 0.2 mm to the left.

Target sway frequency: High.

Hit probability: 99.9%.

enough.

Jiang Chen's lips curled into a chilling smile. He didn't draw his gun immediately; that would be too slow and might easily provoke Old Li.

He's going to use a feint attack.

"Okay, since you need a car, I'll go get one for you right now."

Jiang Chen's voice suddenly softened, carrying a sense of helpless compromise. He slowly turned around, his back to Old Li, and walked heavily towards the alleyway, as if he had truly given up resisting and was going to carry out Old Li's demands.

Seeing this, Old Li, who had been on edge the whole time, finally relaxed.

That was a lapse in human instinct. When a huge threat (Jiang Chen's gun) disappears from sight, a person's vigilance inevitably drops. Old Li subconsciously wanted to confirm whether Jiang Chen had really left, his neck unconsciously craning forward a little, his eyes greedily following Jiang Chen's turning back.

Just then—

"Now!"

Jiang Chen's originally slow turning motion changed abruptly in a fraction of a second.

He didn't take that step at all. Instead, he used his left foot as a pivot, his core strength exploded instantly, and his whole body was like a high-speed spinning top. Using the centrifugal force of the turn, his right hand flashed across his waist.

Draw your gun.

Loading.

Aim.

This series of tactical movements, which would take an ordinary person ten years to master, was compressed to an extreme 0.4 seconds with the help of the skill card.

On Old Li's retina, the young man with his back to him suddenly became a blurry afterimage. Before his brain could process the image, the dark muzzle of the gun had already turned back, like the eye of death, coldly staring at him.

"Bang!"

A crisp, short gunshot ripped through the night sky over Nanluoguxiang.

The gunshot came so fast and so suddenly that everyone was a beat too slow to react. Qin Huairu's scream, which was stuck in her throat, hadn't even had a chance to come out, and Yi Zhonghai's attempt to dodge had only just begun.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment.

The 7.62mm bullet, imbued with a deadly intent, spun and sliced ​​through the frigid air, accompanied by a scorching shockwave. It precisely grazed the outline of Banggeng's right ear, which was frozen red—so close that it even scorched a few fine hairs near Banggeng's ear—and then, without hesitation, burrowed into the exposed gap between his eyebrows.

"puff."

That wasn't the exaggerated explosion sound from a movie, but a dull sound, like a ripe watermelon being smashed.

A cloud of blood exploded on the back of Old Li's head, spraying red and white liquid onto the gray courtyard wall behind him, creating a shocking abstract painting.

Old Li's bloodshot eyes still held the greed of the previous second and the astonishment of the present. Before his finger could pull the trigger, his brain center had already been completely destroyed, severing the transmission of all nerve signals.

He didn't even utter a sound.

Old Li's body fell straight backward like a sawn-off log. With a "thud," he crashed onto the hard, frozen ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. The homemade hunting rifle slipped from his loosened hand and fell to the ground, becoming ownerless scrap metal.

In front of him, Bang Geng remained frozen in place, still in the position of being strangled.

Warm, viscous blood (Old Li's) splattered all over his head and face.

one second.

two seconds.

three seconds.

The entire alley was deathly silent. Everyone stared, mouths agape, at the unbelievable scene. One moment it was a life-or-death situation, the next the spy had his head blown off?

The visual impact was so strong that it exceeded the cognitive limits of ordinary people.

"Ah..." Bang Geng trembled as he reached out and touched the warmth on his face. When he looked at it, his hand was covered in bright red blood.

The overwhelming fear finally overwhelmed his last shred of reason.

"A ghost!!!"

Banggeng let out a miserable scream, his eyes rolled back, and this time he really did faint cleanly and decisively, collapsing softly next to Old Li's corpse.

"A great joke!"

Qin Huairu finally reacted, rushing over like a madwoman. She scooped up her blood-covered son and tremblingly checked his breath. After confirming that her son was still breathing, but had simply fainted, she collapsed to the ground, staring at the man standing like a god in the distance, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.

It was awe, it was fear, but it was also an unprecedented, extreme sense of security.

Jiang Chen remained in the same position as after firing, holding the gun in one hand, with a wisp of smoke still rising from the muzzle.

That's the speed of "American Iaijutsu" and the accuracy of "Chinese-style gun drawing".

At this moment, the eerie blue light in those eyes had faded, replaced by their usual unfathomable depth.

He slowly lowered his arm, took out a handkerchief from his pocket, and leisurely wiped away the non-existent dust from the muzzle of the gun. Only then did he raise his eyelids and coldly scan the surrounding neighbors who were already terrified.

Yi Zhonghai leaned against the doorframe, panting heavily, looking at Jiang Chen as if he were a monster. Liu Haizhong had long since thrown away the stick he was holding, and was now leaning against the wall, his legs weak.

Jiang Chen blew away the gunpowder smoke from the muzzle, tucked the gun back into his belt, and spoke in a tone as calm as if he had just casually swatted a fly:

"It's just the security department's business; there's nothing interesting to see."

He pointed to the unconscious Banggeng on the ground and the still trembling Qin Huairu, then to Old Li's corpse, and finally his gaze fell on the street office militiamen who had arrived, leaving behind a boastful remark:

"Call an ambulance. Also, get someone to clean the floor."