Invasion of the United States

"Where the hell did this bastard come from... he's really tough."

Zhou Qingfeng cursed under his breath. He originally thought that one shot would be enough to incapacitate the opponent, but he didn't expect such a fierce counterattack even after the enemy was shot.

The figure downstairs also realized his dire situation. His thigh was bleeding profusely, the excruciating pain and blood loss continuously issuing warnings.

The opponent rolled on the floor, looking for cover. His gun muzzle occasionally aimed at the stairway, wary of Zhou Qingfeng rushing down from upstairs.

Soon, his vision started to blur, the negative effect of massive blood loss indicating that a major artery had been severed.

His violently beating heart was pumping blood out like a fountain. Without intervention, shock would be inevitable.

The figure bit down on his lip hard, forcing himself to stay conscious, while tearing off his clothes to bind his thigh wound.

Even at this moment, his gun occasionally fired a couple of shots, warning Zhou Qingfeng upstairs not to rashly come down to make trouble.

But to Zhou Qingfeng upstairs, the subsequent gunshots sounded erratic, the bullets landing too randomly.

This meant the enemy's strength was rapidly waning, and his hand must be trembling slightly while holding the gun.

Zhou Qingfeng keenly noticed this. He tilted his head slightly, peeking out from the edge of the wall to quickly glance at the situation downstairs.

By the faint light from the streetlamp outside the window, he could see the figure leaning against the living room sofa, his face pale as a sheet, yet his eyes fierce like a wolf's.

The gun muzzle still aimed at the stairway, having switched magazines, but the shooting frequency had noticeably decreased, likely to conserve ammunition.

"This guy is done for..." Zhou Qingfeng saw the large pool of blood on the floor and made a swift judgment in his mind.

He wasn't in a hurry; instead, he called out to the downstairs, "Your blood can't be stopped with just a simple bandage. Want to leave a last message? Let me know who you are? And who to find to collect your body?"

The figure still didn't speak, one hand holding the gun aimed at the stairway, the other hand dragging his body across the floor strongly, crawling towards the living room door.

Zhou Qingfeng could hear the sound of his heavy body scraping against the floor, but he poked his head out, trying to observe the opponent's situation.

"Bang!" Another gunshot rang out.

But the bullet missed by a wide margin, hitting the chandelier on the living room ceiling. Glass shards rained down, resembling crystalline rain.

Zhou Qingfeng found it odd: Normally, when someone gets shot, they would be screaming. This person downstairs hadn't made a sound the whole time.

Who exactly was this? Why so fierce, not even afraid of death? This almost crazy determination gave him a strong sense of oppression.

"Should I call the police?"

"The neighbors should have heard the gunshots."

"The police should arrive soon, right?"

The stairway was already blocked by the opponent, so Zhou Qingfeng turned to the second-floor window, wanting to check outside. Part of a series hosted by My Virtual Library Empire (MV&LEMP&YR).

He crouched, swiftly moving to the window along the wall, gently prying open a corner of the curtain with his fingers, trying to observe the situation outside through the glass.

This cautious tactical move saved Zhou Qingfeng's life—just as his gaze scanned the courtyard, he surprisingly discovered another figure in the yard!

The enemy in the front yard was holding a gun, aiming steadily at the second-floor window. He seemed to be hesitating whether to enter the house to help his companion or remain vigilant against the target intercepting from the second floor.

Zhou Qingfeng's gaze met the enemy's in an instant, both were equally startled. Instinctively, he dodged to the side, and at the same time, gunshots rang out sharply.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The glass window shattered instantly, shards flying like sharp blades.

Zhou Qingfeng pressed his body tightly against the wall, his ears filled with the whistling of bullets, like death whispering in his ear.

Despite his extremely quick reaction, he couldn't entirely avoid injury.

A bullet grazed his forehead, causing a burning sting. He felt his skin tear open, warm blood slowly trickling down his cheek.

The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning hair, mixed with the scent of blood, making him nauseous.

"Hiss..." Zhou Qingfeng gasped sharply, rolling continuously on the floor, the pain in his forehead nearly making him break his teeth.

Bullets rained in from outside like a violent storm, each one with a deadly howl, penetrating the thin wooden walls, closely following Zhou Qingfeng's steps.

Wood chips and debris flew through the air like countless exploding shrapnel, ready to cut him at any moment.

The injured gunman still in the living room also opened fire again, bullets shooting upwards through the floor, combining with the outside firepower to try and force Zhou Qingfeng into a desperate situation.

"They want to kill me." Zhou Qingfeng finally understood the situation. The enemies outside and downstairs were not ordinary burglars.

They were professional gunmen—one entered to search, one waited outside for backup, a standard two-man team, with clear targets and decisive action.

Zhou Qingfeng moved swiftly, his eyes scanning the room, searching for any usable cover.

However, most of the furniture inside was flimsy and could not resist the penetrating power of bullets. He could only rely on walls and corners for cover, barely avoiding the concentrated fire.

Until the two assassins downstairs emptied their magazines and the gunfire temporarily ceased, Zhou Qingfeng finally got a moment to catch his breath.

His back pressed against the wall, breathing heavily, cold sweat mixed with blood trickled down his face from his forehead.

Just as he let out a sigh of relief, a sudden screeching of tires came from outside.