Dual-wielding! 100x proficiency, I'll grind my way to godhood!

The stadium clubhouse.

The sounds of sirens, gunshots, and shouts outside mingled together, like boiling water.

The Los Angeles Police Department's SWAT team advanced through the front entrance.

The FBI hostage rescue team flanked the hostages from both sides.

Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department armored vehicles blocked the fairway.

Further away, California National Guard Humvees are entering the scene.

Ghost and Naga mounted two M240B machine guns at the window.

Chen Mo, holding the third gun, used standard three-round bursts to suppress the outside.

He controlled it very well.

The true speed is not revealed.

It also doesn't reveal its true power.

On live television across the United States, he was simply a marksman with excellent marksmanship and strong mental fortitude.

The three machine guns fired in alternating bursts.

The SWAT team members at the forefront were forced to lie prone on the grass.

The two BearCat armored vehicles stopped halfway, not daring to continue the standoff.

Naga emptied a belt of ammunition and raised his hand to replace the scorching hot barrel.

"Jesus, these bastards really have the nerve to cramm people here!"

Ghost glanced at the formation outside through the scope, his tone remaining calm.

"Boss, they don't really want to break in. They're stalling for time, waiting for more powerful equipment."

Chen Mo glanced at the time.

There are still more than two hours until the scheduled 12 o'clock live broadcast.

But the outside world won't give them that much time anymore.

He put down the machine gun and picked up the laptop on the table.

"I can't wait any longer. Let's start broadcasting now."

Naga grinned.

"I like this rhythm."

Ghost adjusted his glasses and turned to look at the corner of the bar.

"Gentlemen, it's your turn to start work."

Whitman and Coleman were dragged to the wine cellar inside the clubhouse.

This room is behind the bar, surrounded by concrete block walls.

Inside, there is a row of metal wine racks and a heavy marble bar counter.

There are no windows.

It's safer than the lobby.

Whitman stood at the door, shaking her head frantically, refusing to go in.

Chen Mo pressed the gun barrel against his forehead, his eyes icy cold.

The scalding hot barrel burned his skin, and Whitman screamed in pain, taking two steps back in fright.

Chen Mo looked at him, her tone calm.

"Go in! If you want to live."

Whitman turned pale and had no choice but to go into the room.

Coleman followed behind, also feeling uneasy.

The ghost pulled out a folding knife and cut the cable ties on their hands.

Just as the two breathed a sigh of relief, the ghost tied their hands back to their sides.

The position is very low.

The camera only focuses on the area above the chest.

American audiences couldn't see the constraints; they only saw two disheveled big shots sitting in front of the camera.

Naga ripped the towels out of their mouths.

Whitman gasped for breath.

Coleman's lips were pale, and his eyes were still drifting towards the door.

Ghost placed the laptop in front of Chen Mo and pointed the camera at the two of them.

Chen Mo sat behind the camera.

He looked at the two of them, his voice cold.

"Honestly admit your guilt, and don't test my patience."

The next second, the cable television broadcast across the United States suddenly stopped.

CNN.

FOX.

NBC.

YouTube live stream.

Video streaming on the X platform.

Airport waiting hall screen.

A large screen in a Las Vegas casino.

……

The entire screen went black.

Immediately afterwards, Whitman and Coleman appeared on screen.

For a time, countless people around the world were curious about this suddenly appearing scene.

What happened to the original footage?

Who are these two?

The two had messy hair and their faces were covered in ash.

Whitman looked at the camera, her Adam's apple bobbing, and she spoke through gritted teeth.

"I am California Governor George Whitman. I admit that I have committed crimes. I have abused my power and taken money that I should not have taken."

Coleman lowered his head, his voice hoarse.

"I am California Attorney General Marcus Coleman. I have broken my oath. I have failed the public's trust."

The two stopped talking at the same time.

They still dared not reveal the specifics.

I dare not talk about those videos.

I dare not say I have eaten it.

They dared not mention anyone from the Black Palace.

Chen Mo tapped the table behind the camera.

Whitman shuddered in fright and had no choice but to continue.

"But we are not the only guilty ones. The people who actually gave the orders are sitting in cleaner offices in Washington."

Coleman's expression changed drastically, and he turned sharply to look at Whitman.

"Shut up! Do you know what you're saying?"

That's enough.

The American audience immediately realized something was wrong.

There are people behind the governor.

And he's in Washington.

Las Vegas betting websites have frozen the betting odds.

The trending topics on X instantly changed to the same word.

Washington.

In a bar in Los Angeles, no one spoke.

All the drinkers tilted their heads back, staring intently at the television.

An old man held a wine glass, not putting it down for a long time.

"Jesus, they want to drag Washington into this too."

Sacramento, the capital of California.

State Emergency Command Center.

Lieutenant Governor Alan Gray is acting as governor.

The live stream was still playing on the big screen.

No one spoke in the meeting room.

Allen's encrypted phone rang.

The caller ID only displays one line of text.

THE BLACK HOUSE.

Allen answered the phone.

The person on the other end of the phone didn't give their name but spoke directly.

"Jesus, Allen. You got them on every single TV show in America. You know what they're going to say next."

Allen wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"We're handling it. The governor and the attorney general are still inside."

There was a one-second pause on the other end of the phone.

"I know who's inside! That's why we need to act now."

Allen's expression changed slightly.

"You mean...?"

The other party interrupted him directly.

"Shut down the live stream! Clean up the scene! Leave no one alive!"

Allen gripped his phone tightly, not speaking immediately.

The other person's voice grew colder.

"This isn't a request, Allen. This is the Black House's order. Do you want half of Washington to go down with them?"

The phone hangs up.

Allen stood there, his face alternating between pale and flushed.

A few seconds later, he turned to look at the National Guard commander.

"Deploy the National Guard. All armored vehicles and all vehicle-mounted machine guns, concentrate them at the stadium."

The commander was taken aback.

"Acting Governor, the Governor and the Attorney General are still inside."

Allen stared at the screen and spoke, word by word.

"The order comes from Washington. Weapons free!"

At the same moment, a call came in from the White House to the FBI's Los Angeles office.

Federal field command was forcibly unified.

The FAA subsequently established a temporary no-fly zone over the stadium.

All media helicopters must be evacuated.

Any aircraft that refuses to leave will be treated as violating federal flight regulations and assisting domestic terrorism.

First, intercept and force a landing.

If they refuse to obey, shoot them down.

Inside the wine cellar, Whitman and Coleman heard the helicopter sounds outside changing.

The media helicopters began to evacuate.

National Guard helicopters are approaching.

Coleman suddenly looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes for the first time.

"Listen! They're here! The Federation people are here! They're here to rescue us!"

Whitman also quietly sat up straight, a smile appearing on her face.