Invasion of the United States

The bonfire within the farm had long since died out, leaving only scattered embers swaying unsteadily in the night breeze, barely lighting a few meters around.

The second son of the Chris Family lay dead on the ground, his skull shattered, white brain matter scattered like tofu, mixing a scent of burnt flesh and blood in the air.

The barbecue party had turned into a mess, with broken glasses, toppled grills, and food scraps left uncleaned, indicating ongoing chaos.

John Chris stared at Zhou Qingfeng opposite him, utterly confused—You could summon the National Guard; why didn't you mention that in the calls?

You boast, you dominate, your connections are sky-high; would making a few more calls kill you? Now the situation is unmanageable, and regardless of the outcome, the Chris Clan is ruined.

National Guard soldiers, holding rifles, formed a tense semicircle, their gun barrels slightly raised, yet they made no further move.

They were just here for show; they appeared fierce, but now faced with actual death, they were unprepared, their eyes wandering, glancing around restlessly.

If no one had fired at them, they would have fallen into chaos themselves.

The leading lieutenant was also sweating; this young officer couldn't handle the pressure. His eyes kept darting toward Kongges and Zhou Qingfeng, seeking some guidance. Al&w*ays r%e@a!d& f$rom% the sourc&e.: M|V|*L&E$4MPYR.

In front of the remaining barbecue fire, "Funeral Bell" Chris held Julia by the scruff with one hand, pointing a gun at her head with the other, shouting loudly: "Helicopter! I want a helicopter!

Don't push me; I'll really shoot.

Let my family members go; not one less! And get the money ready! Or they will die!"

Old Chris, in his wheelchair, had also cast aside his usual calm, his clouded eyes flashing with ferocity. "Surround John, don't give the police a chance to shoot!"

He waved his thin arms, commanding family members to encircle his eldest son, forming a human wall to block the aiming barrels around them.

Kongges gripped his rifle tightly, aiming at the target. But he didn't dare pull the trigger. One mistake, and his wife and daughter would die.

The enormous pressure, both gain and loss, made the burly sheriff unable to breathe, but he couldn't back down; he had to stand firm.

Four FBI agents, who had been forced to join, found the situation out of control and could only brace themselves to step forward, attempting to negotiate with the Chris Clan.

They tried to stay as calm as possible, "Calm down, we can negotiate. As long as you ensure the hostages' safety, everything is negotiable."

"Funeral Bell" Chris didn't budge, his voice sharp and screeching, "Everyone back off, and don't talk about terms. I'm running out of patience, and my hands aren't stable!"

At this tense moment, Old Hammer quietly tugged at Zhou Qingfeng's sleeve, pulling him slightly out of the crowd, and whispered:

"The Guard soldiers are not good at this kind of standoff; we need professional SWAT to handle it.

Preferably, a skilled sniper to take a shot at the back of 'Funeral Bell' Chris' head, giving him no chance to react."

Both sides are spewing rubbish, just wasting time.

Currently, it's actually Kongges holding the situation down, but this guy had been stretched like a bowstring for days, both excited and exhausted, on the verge of snapping.

Julia and her daughter's condition was also quite dire.

Selena was limply fading in and out of consciousness. Julia held her daughter with all her strength, but she was hunched over, head down, hair covering her face, her frame unsteady.

On the other hand, "Funeral Bell" Chris stood tall, head held high, in an extremely excited state. To intimidate those around him, his voice grew louder and louder.

With a height over 1.7 meters, his head was fully exposed, making it a prominent target relative to the bowed Julia and Selena.

However, several family members of the Chris Clan blocked the target, their bodies constantly swaying from nervousness, forming a hard-to-penetrate human wall.

There was no sniper, and Zhou Qingfeng's marksmanship wasn't impressive. He frowned, quickly scanning the crowd, trying to find a solution.

At this moment, his gaze fell on the "Roar" assault vehicle that came with the "Osprey".

It's an enhanced Jeep, specifically designed to fit in the "Osprey" cabin. The M2 heavy machine gun on the roof gleamed with cold metallic light in the faint fire.

This wasn't standard Guard equipment; it was carried by the "Osprey" during night training, originally fixed in the cabin, but was brought out when the Guard arrived.

An idea flashed through Zhou Qingfeng's mind—The M2 heavy machine gun, with its .50 caliber, had the power to ignore flesh and blood obstacles.

Regular rifle bullets may deflect inside a body, but the .50 caliber wouldn't. Its accuracy at short range was high enough for a fatal shot.

Zhou Qingfeng quickly walked to the assault vehicle, whispered a few words to the big grunt inside.

The driver, who had been watching the show, received the order and slowly maneuvered the vehicle from the side. Using the darkness and the cover of the Guard's soldiers, they approached "Funeral Bell" Chris.

The Chris family still gathered around the bonfire, vigilantly watching the soldiers surrounding them, shouting and yelling, but making no attempt to break out.

The fire barely illuminated the surrounding seven or eight meters; beyond that, the farm was just a dark open space. The two "Osprey" rotors continued to roar loudly, masking all other noises.