Suddenly—
Robert let go of the handlebars of the motorcycle, raised his pistol, and sharply flicked his arms and wrists.
Boom! Boom!
Two gunshots echoed, almost overlapping.
The muzzle released thick gunpowder smoke under the slowed perception of bullet time, and bullets burst out with a screech, dragging white sonic lines behind them.
As they spun at high speed, the bullets' original straight paths bent slightly, forming exaggerated arcs in mid-air.
They bypassed the solid cover the gangsters were hiding behind—
—and each bullet pierced a man's throat, exiting cleanly through the back of the neck.
Without slowing down, the same bullets burrowed into the heart of another thug behind each first victim.
Puff, puff, puff...
Accompanied by the sickening thud of bullets striking flesh, four strong men collapsed to the ground almost simultaneously.
The gangsters were stunned, staring at the corpses as if they had seen a ghost.
"Where...where did the bullet come from!?"
They were hiding behind cover—how could the bullets possibly reach them?
And only two shots had been fired... yet four men were dead?
Too many doubts raced through their minds—
But Robert gave them no chance to think.
More gunfire erupted from him instantly, and more bodies collapsed into the bloody puddles of the street.
"FIRE!!"
Someone among them finally screamed in panic.
Automatic rifles trembled in nervous hands, spraying desperate streams of bullets toward Robert.
But Robert showed no intention of slowing down.
The motorcycle zigzagged through the blinding hail of bullets!
With the precision of bullet time, every bullet missed him by mere millimeters.
Any bullets that couldn't be dodged—Robert casually shot them out of the air.
To the gangsters watching in horror—
It felt as if the bullets were deliberately avoiding Robert.
Dozens of rifles firing wildly... yet none could land a hit. Not a single bullet touched Robert's speeding motorcycle!
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The gunfire grew even more frantic.
Da-da-da-da-da!!
In the midst of the chaotic barrage, the sharp crack of bullet collisions rang out, clear and chilling.
Robert's every movement was so precise it was almost elegant.
The moment one magazine dropped from the pistol, another slid into place with perfect timing, the trigger never falling silent.
The whole scene had an eerie, hypnotic flow.
The surge of adrenaline coursing through Robert's body enhanced his strength, speed, and stability to terrifying levels.
The recoil of the pistol seemed nonexistent. His aim remained razor-sharp even under rapid fire.
Meanwhile, Frank sat rigidly behind him, his mouth hanging slightly open in disbelief.
From his vantage point, Frank could see it all even more clearly than the gangsters could.
Every shot Robert fired—
Every flick of the wrist—
Every instinctive tilt of the motorcycle—
It was all impossibly crisp and casual, as if Robert were simply dancing instead of fighting for their lives.
And the way Robert twisted bullets in mid-air to curve around obstacles and hit enemies hidden behind cover...
Frank couldn't help but wonder:
Was this even scientific?
Was this even humanly possible?
...
"Monster... he's a monster..."
One gangster finally muttered aloud, his voice trembling.
Fear spread like wildfire among them.
No matter how much they fired, it was useless.
The motorcycle roared closer and closer, yet none of their bullets could even graze it.
Each time a comrade fell, it was like a knife being pressed harder against their own necks.
The constant threat of death crushed their morale completely.
The gangsters had long forgotten about the bounty or the mission.
Now they were simply fighting to survive.
Trembling fingers squeezed the triggers harder, automatic rifles spitting endless streams of bullets at Robert.
Desperation filled their eyes.
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By now, Robert was only twenty meters away.
The concentrated bullets stitched an almost solid wall of death across the driveway.
But Robert didn't slow down.
Instead, he casually raised his pistol and fired a single shot to the right.
Boom!
A massive shop billboard on the side of the street suddenly snapped loose and crashed down with a deafening bang.
It landed on a trash can, forming a tilted ramp.
Robert seized the opportunity without hesitation.
The motorcycle growled, its tires gripping the makeshift slope—
—and the whole bike launched into the air like a soaring bullet!
He flew over the heads of the gangsters!
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Still midair, Robert swung his pistol and pulled the trigger in a smooth arc.
Bullets spiraled downward, forming a perfect C-shaped trajectory, piercing thug after thug like a god of death.
By the time the motorcycle touched down again, Robert had emptied his magazine.
All the enemies behind them had fallen.
Boom!
The tires hit the ground hard, but Robert didn't even pause—
The motorcycle roared back onto the open road and shot into the night, disappearing before anyone could react.
The entire ambush had lasted barely ten seconds.
The remaining jeeps arrived late.
Gangsters poured out—
—and were met with a horrifying sight.
Dead bodies littered the street.
The stench of blood and gunpowder clung heavily to the air.
For a long moment, no one dared move.
Even the veterans among them trembled slightly, cold sweat dripping from their foreheads.
The firepower they had assembled—
The manpower they had gathered—
All of it had been completely wiped out.
By two men.
Or rather—by one.
Was that... really a human being?
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