Just like the machete, Monroe was also brought over by Matt Graves from the United States specifically to deal with tactical operatives against Ronan. Monroe is a private, specializing in sniping!
His weapon of choice is the TAC-50, a 12.7mm caliber sniper rifle!
Matt Graves was determined; this time, he must eliminate Ronan!
He had to give an explanation to both his superiors and subordinates.
Killing CIA personnel and still daring to be so brazen, the entire CIA couldn't tolerate this.
Monroe knelt on one knee on the rooftop of a church, the TAC-50 resting on a tripod. Through night vision scope, he spotted Ronan as soon as he appeared, and he squeezed the trigger without hesitation!
However, from aiming at Ronan, processing the command in his brain, to moving his finger to pull the trigger, there was a slight reaction time.
In that instant of pulling the trigger, Monroe noticed that the target seemed to have moved!
Ronan's predatory instincts alerted him, and he dashed towards the mouth of an alley. He had a feeling that if he didn't get away from there, he would definitely die!
Jose, with a dagger embedded in his eye sockets, sat up without Ronan's constraint.
At a distance of about two hundred meters, the gunshot and the bullet arrival were almost simultaneous. Jose instinctively wanted to morph into a bat, but the bullet was too fast. By the time he sensed the danger, the bullet had pierced through his head.
With a bang, Jose's head exploded into a pile of flesh.
He collapsed like a broken sack, utterly silent.
In this world, humans are the masters!
Monroe's reaction was equally quick. The moment he pulled the trigger, he knew the bullet was going to miss. He adjusted the barrel slightly, firing the second bullet almost immediately.
His reaction was still a bit slow; the second shot blasted apart a large section of the wall at the alley's entrance!
When the first shot rang out, the wind stirred at the top of the alley wall. A tall, muscular man stood on the wall, his long hair fluttering in the wind, revealing an incredibly ugly face.
This man suddenly opened his leather jacket, revealing an array of knives of various sizes beneath his clothes!
This was Blade and his knives!
Blade unsheathed his heaviest and sharpest cleaver. When the second shot sounded, he leaped down, slashing towards the incoming figure.
At the same time, atop the roof within the alley, Private Andre revealed himself, holding an AUG assault rifle and aiming it at the alley's entrance.
Ronan dashed into the alley, the danger alert still in effect. There were lethal threats both above and in front of him!
Before he even touched the ground, he turned like a pouncing leopard. With his right hand bracing against the ground, he changed direction suddenly, rolling on the spot.
Blade's cleaver missed, crashing to the ground with a loud thud.
This slash struck the asphalt ground, causing sparks to fly as the ground cracked open!
Andrei seized the opportunity, pulled the trigger, and the AUG rifle fired in rapid succession. Ronan had flipped to his feet, changing directions repeatedly, yet all the bullets missed their mark!
Ronan had already pinpointed the gunner's location. He drew his Glock 22 from its holster while rolling and quickly raised it.
At the same moment, Blade behind him withdrew a throwing knife of varying lengths from his left hand, preparing to launch it.
"Damn it!"
Demona, concealed in the shadows, opened her leather jacket. Her swollen bosom was aimed at Blade's direction!
Beneath her jacket, a pair of intricately designed steel hillocks rested on Demona's chest, akin to a brassiere, with short barrels protruding from the tops.
Demona tapped the side of the steel hillocks, and two gunshots rang out!
Bullets shot toward Blade!
However, these two guns were more of a surprise attack rather than a full-fledged assault, with limited rates of fire, range, and power.
Blade evaded one bullet, his cleaver held horizontally in front of him, knocking away the other bullet!
The blade, forged from high-strength alloy, bore no visible marks from the collision.
On the church rooftop, Monroe and the observer, experienced hunters in their own right, patiently awaited their prey's appearance.
This church, towering as a three-story building, was the tallest structure within several kilometers.
However, when the opponent entered the alleyway, they lost sight of their target.
Demona's unexpected attack bought Ronan a fleeting moment.
From a considerable distance, Ronan changed direction again, edging closer to the gunman. His Glock fired repeatedly, emptying the magazine.
Andrei hit Ronan with five shots, but due to Ronan's bulletproof vest, he wasn't fatally wounded. He lay on the rooftop unable to rise.
One thought dominated his mind: the intelligence was incorrect; no one had mentioned that Ronan was this fast!
Ronan turned back just in time to see Blade leaping toward him, a flying knife leading the way.
The flying knife and the subsequent cleaver were too swift. Ronan instinctively tossed his empty pistol to knock the flying knife off course. He mentally invoked his steel claws, delivering a punch to the incoming cleaver.
With a loud clang, the cleaver veered to the side. Ronan moved beneath it, utilizing his speed and agility to sidestep Blade.
Blade flicked his leather jacket, and a knife was sent flying.
Ronan's left palm guarded his chest, the cleaver struck it, but before it could be knocked away, his right hand swiftly scooped it up, colliding it with the large cleaver coming down from Blade.
Blade's long hair floated, and his terrifying face accentuated the fright. His slashing was relentless, his cleaver descending upon Ronan's head and neck ceaselessly.
His use of the cleaver lacked any flourish; it was the simplest, most direct hacking!
Yet, the speed was remarkable, and the force immense, entangling Ronan in close combat!
This man seemed innately skilled in close-quarters combat; under his cleaver, Ronan found it hard to gain even the slightest advantage.
If it weren't for his exceptional agility and the ability to twist his body at critical moments, he might have been injured after just a few strikes.
Ronan managed to create a bit of distance, and Blade threw another throwing knife.
Swoosh—
A knife whizzed by; Ronan just dodged it when the second one arrived. A swift slap knocked the knife off-course. Blade had already thrown the third and fourth throwing knives.
Ronan evaded at an extraordinary speed, continuously changing directions as he charged towards Blade.
Blade flicked his leather jacket, and over a dozen knives flew towards Ronan. The alley was narrow, leaving Ronan no room to dodge.
Ronan's feet barely touched the ground before he leaped up with incredible speed, jumping a person's height to avoid all the flying knives. Mid-air, he executed a somersault and hurled a short knife from his hand.
Blade's cleaver knocked the thrown knife aside.
Ronan struck mid-air, ferociously smashing Blade's temples with his iron-clad hands. Blade hadn't expected this level of speed and agility, nor the ability to evade his attacks!
Blade flipped his cleaver over to block Ronan's left fist while simultaneously raising his left arm.
Ronan's left fist hit the cleaver, withdrawing it immediately. His right fist landed solidly on Blade's left arm.
Blade let out a painful cry and staggered back, falling against the side wall of the alley.
As soon as Ronan's feet touched the ground, he dashed forward, using the steel claws on his hands to slam Blade's temples. Blade's attempt at a cleaver strike was caught off guard.
Blade's speed wasn't lacking either; he swung his cleaver horizontally at Ronan's neck. Ronan was prepared, pushing off the wall with his foot. His incredible agility and body control enabled him to step on the wall multiple times in quick succession, allowing him to rotate behind Blade. As he descended, his right fist pounded Blade's neck vertebrae.
Completely unexpected for Blade, being bulky and unable to turn in time, he could only twist his neck.
With a bang, Ronan's fist struck Blade's neck from the side. Ronan's left hand became a claw, grabbing the other side of Blade's neck. Under the steel claws, his fingers immediately sank into the flesh.
In that split second, Blade instinctively moved forward, attempting to shake off Ronan.
Using the momentum, Ronan tore and pulled. A chunk of flesh was forcefully ripped off by his steel claws.
Blade's neck bled profusely, the massive open wound resembling a fountain of blood.
The steel claws on Ronan's hands dissipated as he immediately chanted again, rushing forward to deliver a forceful blow to Blade's face.
Blade's head jerked back, crashing onto the ground, as if his strength had drained out along with the blood.
Without pause, Ronan picked up a throwing knife and thrust it through Blade's heart!
Simultaneously activating his "spiritual sight," he harvested Blade's soul fragments.
Soul fragments +9!
A memory snippet flashed in Ronan's mind: the Pacific coast business district, Winte Trading Company's conference room. A middle-aged man with brown hair presided over the meeting, organizing tonight's action plan. The plan involved luring Ronan, the terrorist who had killed numerous of his subordinates, into a trap using the Jose Group as bait and then eliminating him.
The information revealed that this company was a covert CIA base in Tijuana. The brown-haired man's name was Matt Graves, the planner and leader of the operation.
Ronan immediately realized that this was the local head of the CIA!
He quickly searched Blade's body; apart from the cleaver, there was nothing else.
He picked up the handgun nearby. In the distance, lights flickered, accompanied by the sound of rotor blades.
Ronan recognized it as the sound of a helicopter approaching. He shouted to Demona, "Run!"
Demona was helping a wounded woman towards the depths of the alley. The woman shook her head, "You go!"
She had lost too much blood and staggered towards the mouth of the alley, saying, "I can't run anymore!"
The helicopter was still several hundred meters away. Infrared night vision goggles picked up figures. Matt Graves' expression turned serious as he ordered, "Open fire!"
On another helicopter, Judy cautioned, "We're in Mexico!"
Although the area of the cultural street had been partially cleared, many people were still present...
Matt Graves clenched his teeth and commanded, "Open fire!"
Out of the two helicopters, only the one Judy was on had a Gatling gun installed.
Judy immediately adjusted the aircraft, locking onto the alleyway as the target. Meanwhile, Ronan was roaring, "Run!"
Demona was already running. She turned a corner and shouted, "Northwest seaside, Warehouse Number Three!"
It was a safehouse she had prepared for the Hound father and son, though it had never been used before.
Ronan took a running start and leaped toward the rooftops.
As soon as he reached the rooftop, a barrage of bullets and gunshots echoed almost simultaneously. Countless smoke and dust billowed from the alley and the surrounding walls. The middle-aged woman, stumbling and swaying, was instantly reduced to a mangled corpse.
Ronan increased his speed to the maximum, sprinting forward with all his might.
While running, he suddenly sensed danger and performed a rolling motion on the spot.
Bang—
On the church rooftop, Monroe squeezed the sniper rifle's trigger, but the bullet missed once again.
"On the rooftops!" Matt Graves reminded Judy via the radio!
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