Chapter 815

Chapter 815: The Crab is Behind

“You and Ivan just call for people; everything before noon tomorrow will be left to me.”

Hearing the exaggerated bravado outside, Lin Mo stood up, cracked his wrists, and his entire body emitted a series of rapid-fire crackling sounds, leaving everyone in the room utterly astonished.

Is that a sound a human body can make?

What about bioengineered soldiers or half-mechanical warriors? Everything suddenly made sense.

It’s Kung Fu!

Even the CIA agents were stunned momentarily, but then they quickly understood; the person was Chinese, so it must be Chinese kung fu.

Americans who have seen Bruce Lee movies and many other kung fu films greatly admire and believe in Chinese kung fu, thinking it can almost perform magic, capable of anything, just like the magic in Western legends.

From another perspective, compared to the Chinese way of thinking, which seems limitless, the imagination of Westerners often appears painfully poor, like a barren desert.

“Can you really do it?”

Charlie Mitchell expressed concern. Although he acknowledged that Lin Mo could perhaps knock out an Audi with a single punch, he couldn’t believe one person could take on a group.

Let alone that many ants could take down an elephant, and the opponents had guns, knives, chains, and various weapons. Those people outside were part of an organized gang; even a hero charging in could easily become a mess.

“I’ll help you!”

Lin Mo had not only earned Charlie Mitchell’s respect but also prompted Ivan Carter to crack his knuckles, creating the same cracking sounds.

America is a society that highly values individual heroism, and nothing could be more stirring than one person challenging a group of armed criminals.

In this liberal climate, it was not surprising for agents to act recklessly; they might even be seen as heroes.

“Mr. Morin, I’ll join you!”

At that moment, Bob stepped up like a true man, picking up a hunting rifle.

As the backbone of his family, there were things he had to do for them.

“No need, no need! You stay here to protect the women and children. I’ll handle everything else; don’t worry, I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

Lin Mo glanced at the time on his watch, estimating how long it would take, treating the situation nonchalantly as if he were just stepping out for a game of golf.

Charlie Mitchell and Ivan Carter exchanged glances, their admiration for Lin Mo growing.

Facing a crowd of thugs, he remained calm; the mental resilience of Chinese pilots was frightfully high, probably even more than astronauts, they thought.

But this was too dangerous!

The two CIA agents couldn’t stop Lin Mo, their hearts filled with worry as they tightened their grips on their guns, positioning themselves at the door, ready to shoot in support at the slightest sign of trouble, even at the cost of violating CIA operational rules.

The actions of the Dragon Knight were personally endorsed by the two agents, and since he was generous, they were willing to take on some responsibility.

“Mmm! Hehe…” the guy being pinned down on the ground sneered, believing this overconfident Oriental would surely die, and in a very miserable way.

His companions would soon rescue him; indeed, everyone in the villa was doomed, and he wouldn’t spare any of them.

Lin Mo loosened his collar, wearing a faint smile, and walked to the front door of the villa, pulling it open.

None of them could see how Lin Mo exited; it was as if a gust of wind swept through, and the people at the door vanished without a trace.

Outside, it felt as if a splash of cold water was thrown into a boiling pot of oil, exploding with a loud bang.

Charlie Mitchell, bracing against the door, changed color and leaned out to look out the window. Once he did, he couldn’t pull his gaze away.

“Oh my God! Is he human?”

Charlie Mitchell murmured in disbelief.

“What’s wrong, Charlie?” Ivan Carter kicked the bad guy again and joined him at the window. Suddenly, a gray shadow flew past with a scream, followed by the horrifying sound of a terrible crash nearby.

“Oh my God!”

Ivan Carter also let out an uncontrollable gasp.

The two agents stood dumbfounded in front of the window, staring outside without moving, looking like they had fallen under Medusa’s petrifying gaze.

Bob and his wife Lisa exchanged glances, unsure of what was happening outside that could astonish these “bodyguards” so much.

Wait, weren’t they the "bodyguards"? Why weren’t they doing their job with their employer outside? It felt like they were the ones needing protection.

“Lisa, sweetheart, stay here. I’ll go take a look.”

Bob nervously gripped his hunting rifle and walked toward the window, wanting to see what amazing sight could leave these two big men speechless.

If anything went wrong, he would not hesitate to shoot and eliminate the invaders in his own property; it was completely legal in America.

As screams erupted outside, the nylon-tied bad guy chuckled, thinking the overconfident Oriental was now getting caught and tortured by his partners. But the screams were continuous and varied, clearly not from the same person, and some of them were very familiar.

Gradually, the bad guy stopped laughing. He struggled, but couldn’t get up, so he gave up trying to crawl to the window and instead strained his ears to listen to the chaos outside. The more he listened, the more alarmed he became, and his face grew paler.

He realized it was his own partners who were under attack. This was a very terrifying melee, with continuous sounds of people seemingly being thrown, desperate groans, massive crashes, and even the sounds of alarms going off from tumbling cars—all indicating that a strange beast was rampaging outside.

“Oh my God!”

Standing at the window, Bob also turned to stone with shock.

His wife Lisa had no idea what was happening but was too afraid to go over and check.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? Is that guy outside even human? Is he a vampire? No, it’s daytime. Could he be a werewolf?”

The bad guy yelled angrily, knowing that his partners had hit a wall, but he had no idea what was happening outside. His feelings were complex: both terrified and curious, a mix of both.

About forty people were outside, thinking it would be easy to deal with the new guests in the villa, but surprisingly, their first ambush had gone wrong; the first little boss had been grabbed inside immediately. Worse still, all the windows had been sealed, and the back door was tightly blocked.

No one expected that suddenly an Oriental man would burst out from inside. They didn’t even see his appearance clearly, yet these battle-hardened men were like fragile infants, falling one after another as if released like kites.

Knives, steel pipes, chains… all were useless. The man only threw punches, and before anyone could react, he was performing aerial feats.

Even if they weren’t knocked out cold by a heavy blow, simply being thrown onto the lawn, into garbage piles, or into bushes was definitely not a pleasant experience.

They had guns, but at that moment, they felt as useless as fire sticks. Before they could aim and pull the trigger, the man had already darted past like a shadow, delivering simple, straightforward punches.

Outside the villa, the thugs saw their comrades being taken down one by one with no chance to retaliate, like naked girls at the mercy of others.

These men were nearly going insane; who was this Oriental? Had Bruce Lee possessed him? It was terrifying—he didn’t seem human at all, more like a demon from hell, the embodiment of Satan.

Some quick ones rushed toward the cars crowded on the sidewalk, but most were yanked back one by one and thrown onto the lawn.

Even those lucky enough to get into the cars were tossed out with both car and person rolling together, creating a series of horrifying crashes and twisted moans from the vehicle, accompanied by terrified screams from within.

Ants! A group of ants!

Lin Mo didn’t take these weaklings with a power level of 5 seriously. He needed no weapons or techniques, easily overpowering them with sheer strength, and in no time cleared the outside thugs, scattering them onto the lawn.

The Dragon Knight, like a human tank, walked around dominantly, free to do as he pleased.

After all, the Boyce family was about to move, so it didn’t matter if this beautiful lawn got trampled by a bunch of rough white and black guys.

“Three minutes and five seconds, a total of forty-one!”

Lin Mo clapped his hands, glanced at the time on his wrist, and walked towards the villa.

Behind him were the groans and screams of defeated foes, and several battered cars emitting thick black smoke, resembling a scene post-battle as horrifying as after being strafed by fighter jets.

The Dragon Knight had shown mercy and used skill, making the whole thing astonishing.

This was America; a foreign pilot taking dozens of lives in one go would certainly attract the attention of the American government, and Lin Mo wouldn’t get himself into trouble.

Charlie Mitchell and Ivan Carter gasped, their expressions complex as they watched Lin Mo open the door and enter.

“Are you really human? Are you really a pilot?”

Charlie Mitchell gritted his teeth and summoned his courage to ask again.

“Hmm? Of course, absolutely!”

Lin Mo paused, then laughed, patting his chest with no metal sounds, indicating he was a pure human made of flesh and blood.