Invasion of the United States

He frowned and looked in the direction of the spilled blood—on the floor, a puddle of dark red blood had yet to dry, spread across the floor like it had been smeared by a mop.

Looking up again, the surveillance camera in the corner of the wall tilted and hung down, its lens shattered into pieces scattered on the ground.

Several fresh bullet holes were embedded in the wall beside it, the edges scorched black and shocking to behold.

For a normal person, their heart would have been pounding like a drum by now, sweat soaking through their clothes, wishing they could turn around and flee immediately.

But Zhou Qingfeng was different at this moment.

The 'X' enhancer's effects on him weren't limited to his muscles; it also worked on his brain.

His emotions were temporarily stripped away—no joy, no fear, only driven by instinct, like a precise and cold machine.

He looked down and glanced at his worn-out shoes, the tips already split open, painfully squeezing his toes.

So he walked towards the household goods section, looking for a pair of fitting shoes and socks, maybe a lightweight travel bag to hold the supplies.

But after taking a few more steps, Zhou Qingfeng's pace involuntarily slowed. He listened carefully, hearing faint curses and threats from the direction of the counter, along with suppressed sobbing.

Through the gaps in the shelves, a beefy man stood behind the counter, his face full of hostility, wearing a wrinkled shirt.

His coarse hand gripping a shotgun, with eyes ferocious like a hungry wolf—clearly not a proper store clerk.

The muzzle of the gun pointed at two people lying on the ground; one curled up clutching his shoulder, the other simply passed out, blood trickling down his forehead, staining half his face red.

Zhou Qingfeng immediately understood what had happened.

This remote gas station convenience store had been robbed.

The robbers had controlled the clerks and customers but heard the noise of 'Holy Light I' landing outside, so they sent a companion to check it out.

But the companion didn't return, and they heard the gunshots of his execution, making them extremely tense.

Understanding was one thing, but at this moment, Zhou Qingfeng neither wanted to save anyone nor retreat; he only wanted to get the living supplies he needed.

Indifferent to the chaos in front of him, he walked steadily around the debris, grabbed two packs of compressed biscuits from the shelf, and a few bottles of mineral water.

His eyes swept around and saw a small red emergency medical kit in the corner, which he tossed into the shopping basket without hesitation.

Then, he noticed a row of cheap black cotton socks hanging in the household goods section.

As he crouched down and his fingers just touched the plastic packaging of the socks, a weak whimper suddenly reached his ears.

Behind the shelves, a woman curled up in a corner, hugging her knees tightly, trembling all over.

Her face was streaked with tears, makeup smudged from crying, hair soaked with sweat and clinging messily to her forehead, her eyes filled with terror and despair.

She pleaded softly to Zhou Qingfeng, "Help… please, help!"

The sound was as weak as a mosquito's buzz, nearly drowned by her own sobbing.

Zhou Qingfeng's hand paused for half a second, his eyes coldly sweeping over her before grabbing the socks expressionlessly and tossing them into the basket, turning to leave as if the woman was nothing but air. Visit Мy Virtuаl Librаry Еmpirе (М_VLЕМРYR) fоr mоrе.

The woman was stunned, the glimmer of hope in her eyes collapsing instantly, replaced by deeper fear.

Behind the counter, a burly robber widened his eyes, mouth slightly open, filled with incredulity.

He held a double-barreled shotgun, the muzzle pointing at the customers and clerks crouching on the floor, cold sweat beading on his forehead, the gunshot outside making his heart pound.

And now, this skinny Asian young man walked into the store calmly, ignoring the blood and mess everywhere, choosing supplies casually like strolling in his own backyard.

Even more absurdly, the guy walked straight to the counter and said coldly, "I want the gun in your hand, give it to me."

The robber first froze, then laughed angrily, squeezing out a hoarse sneer, "Are you crazy?"

He looked Zhou Qingfeng up and down, suddenly narrowing his eyes, focusing on the other's wrinkled jacket and worn-out sneakers, finding them familiar.

"Where did you get those clothes?"

"Stripped them off a drunkard," Zhou Qingfeng said flatly.

"A drunkard?" The robber's gaze darkened instantly, staring at those shoes—the laces broken, the soles worn through to the white edges.

He suddenly remembered something, rage surging to his head, gritting his teeth and shouting, "Those are my brother's clothes and shoes! What did you do to him?!"

The double-barreled shotgun's muzzle quickly turned towards Zhou Qingfeng, the dark barrel aimed straight at his chest.

At the moment the muzzle moved, Zhou Qingfeng released the basket with his left hand, swiftly chopping the shotgun barrel, forcefully pushing it upwards, shifting the aim away from lethal areas.

Almost simultaneously, his right hand drew a revolver from his pocket, moving like a shadow, the muzzle aimed with a small arc at the robber's chin.

"Bang!"

A muffled sound, the muzzle spitting out a ball of fire, the bullet drilling precisely into the robber's chin, tearing a small entry wound, flesh and blood flying.

The bullet penetrated the brain, bursting out a larger hole at the back of the head, blood mixed with brain matter spraying out, coating the shelves behind the counter.

Red and white liquid trickled down the cigarette boxes, dripping onto the floor.

The robber's body swayed as if drained of strength, collapsing with a thud, the double-barreled shotgun clattering to the floor with a dull thump.

The sudden gunshot made the already tense hostages burst into wailing cries.

But as the gunfire sounded, another short robber suddenly rushed out from behind the shelves, face filled with rage and shock, gripping a semi-automatic pistol in his hand.