[Translator Note:
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]
The Black Hawk sat tensely in the car, eyes locked on the red Land Rover ahead.
Chen Mo was inside. No matter what, they couldn't let that vehicle get away. But they couldn't shoot either—not with Chen Mo as a potential casualty. The only option was pressure—constant, relentless pressure. Squeeze them, but don't push them to desperation.
From what he'd seen, there weren't many attackers left. Three in the vehicle. If he could force an opening, he was confident he could end it.
Suddenly, the Land Rover accelerated.
"They're speeding up," the driver beside him warned.
"Step on it. Stay on their tail and box them in."
"Understood."
The vehicle surged forward. But just as they closed in, dozens of small black objects flew out the Land Rover's window, scattering across the road.
"Spikes! Brake—brake!"
CRACK!
Too late. The tires burst with a sickening crunch, the car veered violently and slammed into the roadside green belt with a jolt.
"Triangle spikes," someone muttered bitterly, staring at the embedded metal in the tires. Their pursuit was over.
The Black Hawk slammed his fist on the hood. Second time today.
"Call it in. The suspect vehicle has left Phoenix North Road. Red Land Rover, no license plate."
Inside the escaping vehicle, Ruth exhaled, finally relaxing a bit.
"The Black Hawk's gone. We shook him off," she said, tension easing from her posture.
The man in the back grunted, pain obvious in his voice.
"That sniper... one hell of a shot. My arm's trashed."
"Hold on till we reach the ship," Ruth replied, eyes scanning the rearview mirror. "Once we're out of the country, this mess is behind us."
Next to her, Chen Mo sat silently, bound, watching—calculating.
He had recognized the car chasing them earlier. Only the Black Hawk could shoot that accurately. But now that he'd been blocked off, there was no one left to rely on.
Chen Mo's eyes flicked briefly to the white man's belt—a combat knife. He filed that away and calmly closed his eyes, thinking through his options.
If Mo Nu had pinpointed his location and sent one of his smart vehicles, he still had a chance. If not—he'd have to escape on his own.
Ruth watched him warily. His calm unnerved her slightly.
Still, to her, Chen Mo was just a scientist—a soft target. The man had brains, sure, but no battlefield experience. Hands bound, body still, she assumed he was simply waiting for a rescue that wouldn't come.
"How's the fast shooter?" she asked.
"Still breathing. Arm's done for," the injured man groaned, blood soaking his sleeve.
"Get the bullet out once we board. Time to speed up," Ruth ordered. "We've got ten minutes to the extraction point?"
"Roughly," the young driver said, checking the GPS. "But... something's not right."
As if on cue, the rumble of a high-performance engine approached rapidly from behind.
VROOOOM.
A sleek red supercar streaked into view, closing in fast.
"Is it following us?" the driver asked cautiously.
"Probably just a random car," Ruth said, tightening her grip on her weapon. "They don't know our route."
"It's pulling up to overtake. Should I stop it?"
"Let it pass. Stay sharp," Ruth said, raising her gun, just in case.
The supercar zoomed past without incident. Both Ruth and the driver let out a slow breath.
Still, the driver squinted suspiciously.
"Something about that car felt... odd."
"What?"
"I don't know. It was missing something... like a driver."
He suddenly slammed the brakes.
Everyone lurched forward.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ruth snapped.
"It's a trap. That thing's trying to slow us down. It's baiting us!"
Before she could respond, a loud crash echoed from the rear.
BAM!
The whole vehicle jolted forward. Another car had rear-ended them.
"There's a second car behind us!" the driver shouted. "We're boxed in!"
Ruth's face darkened. She glared at Chen Mo. "You have a tracker on you, don't you?!"
Chen Mo's voice was calm, almost amused.
"Want me to strip naked for you to check?"
Ruth snarled, grabbing his collar. "If I find a tracker on you, you're dead."
BAM!
Another jolt. The car behind had rammed them again.
The driver clenched the wheel. He was being hunted—trapped in a perfect pincer movement. Every time he tried to accelerate or brake, the cars mirrored his movements with precision.
"Too coordinated," he growled. "They're syncing with each other. I speed up, they do. I slow down, they box me in. It's like they're—"
"Dancing with wolves," Chen Mo muttered.
"Open a gap—I'll shoot the rear driver," Ruth said, raising her rifle. But as she aimed, she froze.
There was no driver.
Ruth's eyes widened in realization.
"This is unmanned."
Screeeeech—BANG!
Before she could shout another word, the supercar in front slammed the brakes.
The driver couldn't react in time. Their Land Rover smashed into the rear bumper. An instant later, the pursuing car slammed into them from behind.
CRASH!
The vehicle shook violently. Ruth slammed against the window, her rifle flying from her hands. The injured white man was thrown into the front seat and passed out from the impact.
Chen Mo, though stunned, recovered fast. The crash had knocked him forward but not unconscious.
Still disoriented, he turned to see both of his captors dazed and vulnerable.
Now.
Without hesitation, Chen Mo grabbed the knife from the white man's belt, twisted in his seat, and drove the blade toward Ruth's heart.
Ruth jolted back just in time, the blade slicing her shoulder. She screamed, rolling out of the open door.
Chen Mo spun again, jabbing at her thigh—a solid hit. Ruth howled in pain and dropped to the pavement, clutching her leg as she crawled to safety.
The young driver, dazed but regaining consciousness, fumbled for a weapon.
Chen Mo didn't wait. He shoved the door open and leapt out of the car, sprinting through the road toward the trees.