"Talk? What do you want to talk about?"
As Mercer spoke, V and Pan'an had already entered combat mode—in fact, the moment the guns were drawn on the other side, they instinctively shielded Mercer.
At this moment, Pan'an held a pistol, sweat faintly appearing on her forehead. At such close range, with the firepower from the other side, she could only get a few shots off before being riddled with bullets.
V looked extremely fierce, clutching a gun in her right hand and holding a grenade in her left, ready to die together if necessary.
Claire ducked behind the bar, shouting, "Where are the security?"
A few brawny security guards were rushing over, raising their weapons and shouting with grave expressions, "Put your guns down, you fools! If you fire in Rebirth, you're all dead!"
Mercer, however, coldly stared at the group of mercenaries, focusing primarily on the lean man—his Sianwistan was the biggest threat.
Mercer and the man didn't speak, merely stared intensely at each other, the atmosphere growing heavier. But after a moment, the man suddenly laughed.
"Ha... haha... ha!" His laughter was peculiar, like a robot's.
At the same time, his eyes flickered with red light, and his arm trembled slightly, as if something was anxious to spring out.
"Fenrir?" The big mercenary sensed something was off, turning to look. The lean man called Fenrir slightly shook his head, his prosthetic eye twitchingly fixated on Mercer.
"Shit, this cyborg psycho's about to go off!"
V, experienced and knowledgeable, widened her eyes and shouted, pulling Mercer back.
The security guards, facing a formidable challenge, unlocked all weapons and activated their body tech, causing nearby spectators, mercenaries as well, to retreat instinctively.
Mercer hesitated momentarily—should he upload the program now to eliminate the threat?
If he uploaded the program, it would undoubtedly provoke the madman instantly.
If he failed to hack him quickly, the madman might target him instead.
Currently, the distance was only five or six meters. For a Sianwistan user, this distance was nothing; he could reach Mercer in less than a second once activated.
The opponent had military-grade ICE. Without server support, Mercer would likely have to burn his brain to red-hot levels to neutralize him in time.
In such circumstances, he wasn't even sure if he could still move afterward.
After a brief reflection, Mercer chose to retreat immediately, widening the distance.
"Fenrir! Damn it, quickly, give him a sedative shot!"
The big mercenary shouted, and a teammate holding a shotgun quickly reached for a syringe from his own back.
However, just as the teammate was about to inject Fenrir, Fenrir violently turned his head—grasping the teammate's wrist with a speed so fast that even Mercer could only vaguely discern it.
"Inject me? No, I can't stop, I can't stop."
Fenrir's eyes began to shake fiercely, staring at his teammate like an unfamiliar enemy.
The big mercenary reached out, bear-hugging Fenrir. Though his arms appeared to be grenade launchers, they were disguised as Gorilla Arms not just for show.
The Muscle Enhancement Module caused his arm muscles to bulge prominently, blue veins visible beneath his slightly cyan-tinted skin.
At this moment, the big mercenary used all his might to pry Fenrir's arms apart, shouting while holding him down, "Quick, inject him! Fast!"
Simultaneously, Mercer sensed an opportunity—taking advantage of the momentary restraint by Fenrir's allies, he began hacking.
Thanks to the taunting hacker, Mercer was in the opponent's internal network, skipping the network cracking phase, directly uploading a malfunction program to Fenrir's implants.
His brain operated at high speed, almost overheating as he sent the program.
All computational power was devoted to transmitting the program, causing Fenrir's ICE in his brain to run wild.
The ICE program installed in Fenrir's brain was hardware specialized for the cortical area, a military-grade implant ICE like a micro-server specifically for ICE combat.
Mercer's prosthetic eye flashed with countless blue data, his focus intensely sharp to the point of ignoring movement.
His mental computational power fully committed to breaching the opponent's ICE, he began injecting the program.
Three seconds.
He needed at least three seconds!
Mercer could sense his brain could handle more, but his body's temperature couldn't accommodate such exertion.
Further acceleration, in a state of brain-machine overclocking, might cause him to pass out or damage his brain before taking down Fenrir!
"Damn... my wrist is crushed..." The mercenary holding the syringe staggered back in pain, the syringe slipping from his fingers.
And at that very moment.