The moment he hit the ground, years of combat instinct kicked in, and he swiftly adjusted his posture, dropping smoothly onto one knee. His knee slammed hard into the rough ground, sending up a cloud of dust. Sharp stones tore through his trousers and grazed his skin, leaving blood seeping out. Yet his movements showed not the slightest hesitation, as if his body had long grown accustomed to such pain.
He gripped his rifle firmly with both hands, pressing the butt tight against his shoulder pocket, his cheek resting lightly against the receiver. Through the scope, he locked onto his target with pinpoint precision.
Nearby, the frame of a burning police car was warped and twisted in the raging inferno, the intense heat sending ripples through the surrounding air and making aiming all the more difficult. Bullets kept hammering into the vehicle's body, kicking up dazzling bursts of sparks like the dancing steps of the Grim Reaper, each spark a reminder of closing danger.
Chapter 403