Under the cover of night, dozens of people, including the young girls Miqi and Lena, walked out of the iron gate surrounding the resort, filled with confusion and helplessness.
Ahead, there was a road that led directly to the town on the island.
But flames were burning in the town, staining half the sky red.
Was it really safe over there? Everyone was doubtful, but they had no other choice.
"Keep moving forward, just keep going!" Elsa stood at the gate, shouting loudly, "The town ahead is Bileina Island's town. Go there and seek help! Seek help in the town!"
After rescuing so many people, Elsa had no other option but to send them to the town for help.
With no food, no water, and inadequate transportation on this unfamiliar island, her options were limited.
Behind the fence, Ronan carried a bag on his back, with a handgun and a dagger in place. He glanced at the sky over the town.
The plane was gone, and the explosions and gunfire had ceased.
Seeing the crowd slowly move away, Ronan didn't say anything. He silently walked towards the resort's pier.
Elsa followed from behind.
On the pier, there was a four-person speedboat. Ronan boarded the boat and said to Elsa, "Start the boat."
Elsa's stern face met Ronan's gaze for two seconds, and then she went to start the boat.
The speedboat cut through the water, heading into the open sea.
Ronan held onto the leather seat, standing on the speedboat. He pulled out a cellphone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker.
Using the explosive expert abilities he had acquired that afternoon, he had set up explosives at critical points in the resort and factory, using dynamite, oil drums, and electronic devices.
As the phone rang, accompanied by a loud boom, several places behind them exploded simultaneously, fireballs soaring into the sky, flames burning fiercely.
The secret processing factory that had taken countless lives and committed heinous crimes was now destroyed.
Ronan threw the phone into the sea, sat down, his face grave.
Elsa said, "Keep heading west from here, and you'll soon reach the Guashira Peninsula in Colombia."
Ronan nodded, "Get ashore, and let's split up."
"Aren't you going to report this?" Elsa had a strong intuition, "Are you planning to go to Paris to save people?"
A fierce fire had been burning in Ronan's heart, fiercer than the flames from the explosions behind, but his expression remained calm, "Anna is a kind-hearted, good girl."
Elsa shook her head, "That's Paris, not South America."
Ronan didn't respond. Instead, he started considering how to reach Paris as quickly as possible.
According to the French intel, they had at most five days.
Elsa steered the boat, initially staying silent. After a while, she couldn't help but say, "What you're doing, won't it go against the CIA's rules? How will they handle you? Aren't you concerned about U.S.-France relations?"
Ronan only said one thing, "Lives are at stake."
Elsa suddenly didn't know what to say. This wasn't very spy-like, let alone CIA-like.
The two fell silent, the only sound on the sea being the putt-putt of the engine.
Ronan decided to summon the Commanding Tome and check it out.
Regarding the Soul Fragments, the ancient being had one piece, while the regular Soul Fragments had increased to 217 pieces.
They needed fifty Soul Fragments and one piece of the ancient being's Soul Fragment for the Soul Cooking of the Giant Chameleon Skin.
Next, Ronan examined the three abilities acquired through soul absorption today.
The Demonic Dance was cast aside, the black mercenary's head was definitely not in the right place.
The Explosive Expert was very useful; he had just used it to destroy the resort and factory.
As the saying goes, explosion is an art.
Thinking about those ovens, thinking about the fat and innards stored in glass containers, thinking that he was heading to Paris, the capital of art, Ronan believed that the art of explosion would still have its uses.
Then there was the greasy technique he obtained from the handsome old man.
The Commanding Tome had textual explanations.
Greasy Technique: Apply a layer of slippery grease to a physical object! The maximum area covered should not exceed 20 square meters, requiring the consumption of 3 Soul Fragments.
Ronan had seen with his own eyes that the handsome old man chanted spells and made hand gestures when casting magic, probably invoking magical or arcane powers. However, he didn't have magical or arcane power. Whether in his promotion or Iron Claw form, he used the power of the soul from the Soul Fragments.
When the Greasy Technique came to him, it also became a Soul Fragment-consuming ability.
This experiment was relatively simple and quiet. As he had a sufficient amount of Soul Fragments, Ronan tried it a few times at sea level.
The Greasy Technique was cast normally by spreading it on a designated object. The maximum area was 20 square meters, and the minimum could be controlled to the size of a palm. Only one spell effect could exist at a time.
But the consumption was the same, activating it would consume 3 Soul Fragments.
Ronan thought for a moment. In specific situations, the Greasy Technique should be useful.
Lastly, there was the gold emblem the size of a one-yuan coin.
This was what Elsa referred to as the Mage's Mark.
Ronan reached into his inner pocket and touched it, feeling that it was quite extraordinary.
This belonged to a mage; there might be some mysteries to it.
The handsome old man had collaborated with the Obia Group, engaging in such morally bankrupt deals. He must have made a lot of money.
The things he carried with him certainly weren't simple.
Traveling with him was Elsa, the MI6 agent. Ronan couldn't take it out to examine now. He planned to study it carefully after parting with Elsa.
Guided by GPS navigation, Elsa piloted the speedboat to a small coastal port on the Guashira Peninsula. They arrived close to dawn.
The port was a fishing village nestled against the hills, with many red-brick bungalows dotting the undulating slopes.
Ronan paved the way with money and temporarily got a Latin couple to vacate a house.
After taking turns to shower, Elsa combed her damp hair back, revealing her exquisite face.
Ronan changed into dry clothes and asked, "Which nearby city has an airport?"
Elsa packed up her original clothes and tossed them into a garbage bag, saying, "The capital of Guashira is Rio Aracha, which is 120 kilometers away. There are commercial flights to Bogotá, the capital of Colombia."
Ronan glanced at the sky, "It's still six hours until dawn. Rest."
After spending a day in the jungle and participating in a fierce battle at night, he needed to recover his strength and energy.
The next few days might not allow for any rest.
Elsa suggested, "I've called for support. There will be a private jet from the Bahamas to Aruba. You can join me to London and then proceed to Paris."
Ronan looked at Elsa, "Thank you, but it's not necessary."
Elsa asked, "Don't you trust me?"
Ronan didn't answer. He lay down on the bed, keeping his handgun within reach.
Under the shadow of the CIA, taking a flight might pose some problems for him. Therefore, he had prepared multiple passports and documents from the laboratory.
He also had a fair amount of money. In a country like Colombia, he could always find a way.
Elsa could only sit on a worn-out sofa.
Not long after, snores could be heard from the other side. Elsa got up, feeling that something was off. She turned her head to look, and Ronan was holding a gun in his right hand, pointed in her direction.
Elsa signaled with her eyes, gesturing outside, "Fireworks."
Ronan looked out the window. Fireworks soared into the sky, exploding into brilliant flowers.
Elsa walked to the window, arms crossed in front of her, and murmured, "It's New Year's."
It was then that Ronan remembered; midnight had already passed, and it was now the year 2004.
With only a few fireworks and the backdrop of a factory filled with heinous crimes, this New Year felt particularly special.
Elsa was dressed in regular Latin attire, not looking much like a spy at the moment, "During the previous New Year, were you with your family?"
Ronan put away the gun and shook his head, "No."
He had spent too many Spring Festivals and New Year's Eves away from his parents.
Elsa said, "Me neither." She glanced around the room, "Didn't expect that the one accompanying me this New Year would turn out to be a CIA agent, but unfortunately, there's no alcohol."
Ronan got up, poured two glasses of water, "Happy New Year."
Elsa clinked her glass against his, "Happy New Year."
Two lonely individuals, at this moment, experienced both the loneliness and sadness of being far from their families, as well as the sinister fire and repression brought about by their guilt.
In this foreign land, on the arrival of the New Year, within this enclosed room, there were only the two of them.
Only two concealed mice!
A single thought evoked by a glance was enough to arouse desires for release.
Elsa put down her glass, stepped in front of Ronan, and hung her arms around his neck.
Ronan looked calm on the outside, but a flame had been burning within him, a fire that once ignited, was difficult to suppress.
The two of them shared an almost frenzied kiss.
Ronan pressed Elsa against the wall.
Elsa exerted force with her legs, her well-built long legs wrapping tightly around Ronan's waist.
These powerful legs could almost break a person's waist.
She shone brighter than fireworks.
The Seventy-Two Techniques Ronan had learned finally found a purpose.
Someone once said that when a good-looking and well-built young man and woman, brimming with hormones, spend the night together in the same room, what kind of determination must they possess not to applaud?
Ronan and Elsa applauded each other, but it didn't affect what they were about to do next.
Some things were meant to be done in the end!
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