sovbooks Chapter 132 Beaten to Death
Chapter 132 Beaten to Death
Chapter 132 Beaten to Death
"boom!"
The .44 Magnum bullet tore through the thick sea fog, and the huge roar was like a thunderclap in the quiet Long Beach harbor.
A hundred meters away, the front left tire of the Chevrolet pickup truck suddenly exploded, turning into a pile of black rubber debris. The vehicle tilted violently and crashed to the ground with a groan of despair.
Zhou Ruofei held the gun steadily, and without any command, the team members lurking in the shadows simultaneously pulled the triggers.
The roar of Thompson submachine guns and the crisp sound of M1911 pistols intertwined to form an impenetrable net of metal fire, pouring madly down on the pickup truck.
"Ding ding ding—"
'
With a piercing tearing sound, the windshield instantly shattered into countless flying fragments, and the car door was riddled with holes.
Before the Japanese assassin could even scream, seven or eight puffs of blood burst from his chest, and he collapsed to the ground, twitched a couple of times, and then fell still.
"Baka! Enemy attack!"
The sudden barrage of deadly bullets did not throw Onizuka Jiro into panic. As a trained assassin, his instincts saved his life.
He kicked open the passenger door, curled up like a shrimp, and dodged two stray bullets that grazed his scalp.
"Withdraw! Back to the warehouse!"
He grabbed the heavy canvas bag full of cash from the passenger seat with one hand, yelled at his remaining two men, and, taking advantage of the thick sea fog and the wreckage of the pickup truck, scrambled and crawled toward the warehouse door next to the abandoned cargo ship.
The two henchmen were also extremely brave. One picked up a submachine gun and blindly sprayed fire in the direction of the spitting fire, while the other covered the Gui family as they crashed into the dark warehouse door in a very disheveled state.
"Trying to run? Charge in and chop them up!" Zhou Ruofei's eyes were practically overflowing with murderous intent as he watched the Japanese retreat.
"Mission accomplished. Obey orders! Bullets don't have eyes, and they don't understand your anger." Qin Han's voice came through the earpiece. "Keep an eye on all exits, lock them all down, and smash even a fly that flies out."
Zhou Ruofei forced down the low growl in his throat, gestured, and led his men to hold their ground, cutting off the Japanese escape route.
The warehouse was pitch black inside, with only a few beams of faint moonlight streaming through the skylight.
"Damn Chinese pigs! Come on! Charge in!"
Hiding behind a thick concrete pillar, Onizuka Jiro was shouting wildly in English, his voice echoing through the empty warehouse with the frenzy of a cornered beast.
If those Chinese, blinded by revenge, dare to kick open the front door and trigger the tripwire, the C4 explosives on both sides of the door will instantly turn everyone into mincemeat.
At the back door, the seven hundred steel balls from the two Claymore mines were already eager for more.
He was waiting, waiting for the people outside to lose their minds and trade their lives for his.
However, apart from the howling sea wind, there was no sound of footsteps, only a suffocating silence.
Bruno had silently climbed to the highest point on the waste pile to the right of the warehouse.
He set up an M14 sniper rifle equipped with night vision goggles, and in the green fluorescent light, he had a clear view of the situation inside the warehouse.
"Boss, targets locked. One behind the load-bearing pillar, two in the cargo stacking area on the left. Shooting angle is limited, can't kill with one shot," Bruno reported into the microphone.
"Suppress them, cover for Sam."
Upon receiving the order, the sergeant put away his sniper rifle, switched to an assault rifle, and began firing directly at the spot where the men were hiding, forcing the people inside the warehouse to relocate and lose their surveillance of the entrance.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Sam slung his Remington shotgun over his shoulder and crawled slowly toward the warehouse entrance, his body pressed against the cold, damp concrete.
He stopped directly below the gate and pulled a canister of liquid nitrogen spray and a precision tactical pair of pliers from his tactical vest.
"Hiss—" A plume of white mist precisely covered the surface of the plastic explosive.
As the temperature plummeted, the chemical activity of the explosive was completely frozen, and a thick layer of white frost formed on the surface of the detonating device.
"Click." The tactical pincers snapped the transparent fishing line, and the Grim Reaper's chain was severed.
"The main entrance has been cleared." Sam quickly rolled away from the danger zone.
Qin Han drew his M29 from his thigh, pointed the muzzle at the ground, and nodded to Davis, who was standing below the side ventilation vent.
The veteran immediately pulled out the safety pins of two M84 stun grenades and threw them into the warehouse through the gaps in the louvers of the ventilation vents: "Fire in the hole!"
'
"Boom! Boom!"
Two loud explosions rang out inside the sealed warehouse. A blinding white light instantly tore through the darkness, and accompanied by a terrifying blast, all the glass in the warehouse was shattered in an instant.
"Go!" Qin Han blasted open the roller shutter door in front of him with a single shot!
Inside the warehouse, two Japanese suicide soldiers were writhing on the ground in agony, clutching their ears. Blood seeped from their eyes and ear canals. The stun grenades had destroyed their visual and auditory systems, depriving them of all ability to resist.
There was no need for Qin Han to fire a shot; the Remington 870 in the veteran's hand roared deafeningly.
A No. 12 caliber buckshot blasted a football-sized hole in the chest of a suicide soldier, spraying his internal organs and bone fragments onto the wall behind him.
Several young Chinese men in the same group pulled the triggers without hesitation, emptying the magazines of several pistols at another Japanese man who was still screaming in pain.
The corpse trembled violently under the barrage of bullets until it was riddled with bullets and its original outline was no longer recognizable.
Several bloodthirsty young Chinese men, panting heavily, changed their magazines and were about to go forward to continue whipping the two rotten mounds of flesh.
Qin Han raised his left arm and placed it across their front, his gaze piercing through the billowing smoke and locking onto the load-bearing pillar at the back of the warehouse.
The shockwave hadn't completely dissipated when Onijiro leaned against a rough cement pillar, panting heavily.
Because he was hiding behind a pillar, he avoided the direct sunlight, but his eardrums were still ringing.
Looking at the blood everywhere and his men lying in pools of blood, he knew he wouldn't be leaving today.
"Put down your guns if you dare! Let's duel!" The bloodthirsty assassin roared at the crowd surrounding him.
Qin Han snorted coldly: "Throw out the gun!"
Onizuka steeled himself, took off his bulletproof vest, threw it on the ground along with his gun, and walked out of cover with his hands raised.
Qin Han stared coldly at the Japanese man, unfastened the buckle of his tactical bulletproof vest, revealing a close-fitting black high-elasticity combat uniform.
He flexed his wrist, and the carbon fiber knuckles on the half-finger glove made a clicking sound.
"Everyone back off, seal off the exits." His voice echoed coldly in the empty warehouse. "This scum, I'll deal with him myself."
Bruno glanced at Qin Han, waved his hand, and the veterans and young Chinese men immediately retreated, lowering their guns to form a huge semi-circular encirclement, completely clearing the central area.
Onizuka Jiro wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and drew a gleaming wakizashi from his lower back.
This is a short sword used by Japanese samurai to commit seppuku (ritual suicide), with an extremely sharp blade.
He gripped the hilt of the knife with both hands behind his back, the tip of the blade pointing directly at Qin Han, his facial muscles contorted with extreme madness.
"Long live the Great Japanese Empire!!"
With a piercing roar, Onijiro suddenly exerted force with both legs, like a wild dog driven to the brink of despair, and with a determination to perish together, he lunged at Qin Hanhe.
The rib-shaped weapon in his hand drew a deadly silver arc in the air, heading straight for Qin Han's carotid artery.
Faced with this deadly sword move, Qin Han made no fancy parries or retreats. Just as the blade was about to touch his skin, Qin Han slid to the side and his right leg shot up like a cannonball, skimming the ground.
With a powerful kick, he struck the right wrist of the man wielding the knife.
"Crack!" A chilling sound of bones breaking echoed through the warehouse.
The terrifying force of the kick caused Onijiro's right wrist to bend outward at an unnatural 90-degree angle. The wakizashi flew out of his hand, tumbled twice in the air, and landed with a clatter in a distant corner.
The horrific image of Chen Bing having his arms severed in the motel flashed through Qin Han's mind.
"This kick is to avenge Chen Bing." His voice sounded like it came from the deepest hell.
The excruciating pain caused Onijiro to let out an inhuman scream, but before he could retreat, Qin Han's body was already pressed against him like a shadow.
A burst of explosive power!
His right fist suddenly erupted less than an inch from Onizuka's chest, the Sun-shaped punch like a storm, carrying the power to shatter everything, and slammed into Onizuka Jiro's chest and ribs in succession.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The dull thuds of fists striking flesh and bone were as dense as rapid drumbeats.
With each punch, a crisp sound of ribs breaking could be heard.
Onizuka Jiro's chest visibly caved in, and blood gushed from his mouth, splattering onto Qin Han's black combat uniform.
He collapsed into a pool of blood, his legs completely giving way, like a leaky, tattered sack.
Qin Han did not stop. The two dead heads in the motel, their eyes wide open, and the two "kill" characters written in blood on the wall, kept tearing at his nerves.
He straddled Onijiro's convulsing body, his legs clamping tightly around the other's waist, and grabbed the iron fist covered by a half-finger gauntlet, striking with both hands.
"Bang!"
The first punch broke the Ghost's nose, and blood spurted out.
"Bang!"
The second punch landed on his cheekbone, instantly causing the entire left side of his face to collapse and deform.
The third punch, the fourth punch, the fifth punch —
His fists transformed into two emotionless hammers, striking that ugly face again and again.
At first, Onijiro could still let out a weak whimper, but after being bombarded by more than a dozen heavy punches, his voice was shattered in his throat.
The surrounding young Chinese and veterans watched this scene silently, the vast warehouse filled only with the chilling, muffled sounds of impact.
Qin Han only slowly stopped moving when Onijiro's head had completely turned into a bloody mess and even the slight twitching had stopped.
He breathed deeply into the air thick with the pungent smell of blood, and the pent-up anger that had been building up in his chest finally dissipated with the release of violence.
He slowly stood up, casually flicking off the thick blood stains on his boxing gloves, and his eyes finally regained their calm and profound look.
"Bruno, Zhou Ruofei, clean up the battlefield." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the bloodstains from his cheek, and immediately began issuing orders.
"Collect all our spent cartridge cases and recover all traces of American weapons."
"Ignore the Japanese bodies. Leave the submachine guns and daggers they brought in there. Empty the canvas bag full of Japanese yen and fake passports from the passenger seat and spread it next to the bodies."
Bruno understood immediately; he knew the scene was being staged.
When the Los Angeles police arrived after receiving a report of a gunfight at the Port of Long Beach, they would only find a horrific yakuza shootout caused by a dispute over the division of spoils.
With pressure from above, there was no clue that would implicate Hans Pictures in this matter.
"Hurry up, evacuate in five minutes."
The well-trained team immediately dispersed, quickly cleaning up their own traces by the dim light of their flashlights.
At 3:30 a.m., accompanied by the deep sound of an engine, the modified car disappeared into the thick sea fog, and the harbor of Long Beach returned to a deathly silence, leaving only a mess and the lingering smell of blood.
The convoy did not stop in the city, but went directly back to the abandoned cannery site on the outskirts of the city to hide.
Qin Han showered for a full half hour in the base's shower room. The cold water flowed down his body, washing away the blood and gunpowder smell.
After changing into a clean casual suit, he drove back to his villa in West Hollywood alone.
The east was already showing the first light of dawn, and Los Angeles was about to welcome a new day.
Qin Han had just pushed open the villa's door and tossed his car keys onto the shoe cabinet in the entryway when the phone in the living room started ringing.
"Qin! Thank God you answered the phone!"
The phone rang with extremely excited voice from Lorna Barrett.
"The Long Beach Port Police Department received countless 911 calls last night! Dockworkers living near the port say it's like World War III is happening on the west side!"
"Gunfire and explosions have been going on for most of the night!" she gasped on the phone, her voice low, her tone filled with a feverish curiosity to uncover the secret: "Media vans from all over Los Angeles are now driving towards Long Beach like mad dogs, and the LAPD has even deployed the SWAT team."
"Qin, I don't know if I'm going crazy. But this damn intuition tells me that all that commotion over there—could it be related to you?"
Qin Han sighed: "Luo Na, get to the scene now, take some photos, and then write a report as I instructed:"
A civil war broke out among Japanese yakuza gangs in Long Beach due to a dispute over profit sharing.
"General Bill will make a move soon. Do not take any rash actions before receiving a message from Washington."
A brief exclamation came from the other end of the phone: "Okay, I understand. I'll head out right away and come find you in West Hollywood as soon as the photos are taken!"
"My God, I have no idea how many more earth-shattering news you can bring me!"