Chapter 289: Making a Move

At nine o'clock in the evening, Li Mochen appeared at Building 54 of Eucalyptus Street. When Elisa knocked on the door, Jody Selleck, the president of the Atlanta Electrical Retail Association, silently stepped aside, allowing Li Mochen and Elisa to enter together.

Li Mochen walked into the living room of the small villa with a leisurely pace, as if he were in his own home.

“Mr. Selleck, it seems you’re already prepared, aren’t you? Well, looks like I brought my gift for nothing.”

Li Mochen looked at the photos displayed in the living room—two children, one about thirteen or fourteen, the other around the same age as Hazel had been, along with a picture of Selleck and his wife. But the villa was empty, clearly having been sent away in advance.

“Just in case, I sent them to the countryside early.”

Jody Selleck curled his lips coldly. “I know Antonio died at your hands, so I took some precautions.”

“Mr. Selleck, please don’t say things that could be misunderstood when there might be recording devices, alright? First, the Antonio you mentioned has nothing to do with me. Second, I am a law-abiding citizen with a good reputation and a student of excellent character.”

At that moment, several of Elisa’s subordinates were using professional methods to sweep the room for all listening and recording devices. There were quite a few—five or six in total.

Two of the bugs had gone undetected even by these retired FBI special agents, but Li Mochen’s Star Sword shattered them on the spot.

Li Mochen walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Selleck, I can see you have a lot of confidence in them?”

At that moment, his mind stirred, and he smiled faintly as he looked out the floor-to-ceiling window. He sensed that more than one sniper rifle was currently aimed at him from that angle.

“The only thing I didn’t expect was that Mr. Wielenstein would come in person, but it doesn’t matter.”

Selleck also sat down on the sofa with an air of calm, looking at Li Mochen with a cold expression. “I suppose your men are outside, right? Then it seems a war is about to break out here today. But the victor can only be us—”

Elisa couldn’t help but let out a soft snicker. Li Mochen shot her a glance before turning his gaze back to the window.

“Your confidence is utterly baffling, Selleck. It makes me curious about its source. Is it because of the Foxhound Mercenary Corps outside, or the 17th-level magic shooter ‘Sand Devil Gun’ Natasha?”

At that moment, Selleck’s expression changed drastically. He instinctively wanted to ask how, but the words died on his lips.

“Selleck, do you know why I came in person? Because I knew there was a trap here, so I wanted to come and see.”

Li Mochen’s face bore a mocking smile. “Are you still holding out hope, Selleck? For ‘Dark Snake’ Mekon, or ‘Poison Sword’ Lachar? Both are 17th-level magic swordsmen, quite famous in Atlanta’s assassin circles.”

Hearing those names, Selleck finally lost his composure. All color drained from his face, leaving it deathly pale.

But Li Mochen wasn’t just speaking to him; his lips were always directed toward the window.

Meanwhile, in a building 1.2 kilometers away, ‘Sand Devil Gun’ Natasha lay prone on the ground, aiming at the small villa and the man sitting by the window.

But at that moment, Natasha didn’t dare move a muscle. Her body was stiff, her heart cold. She sensed at least two sniper rifles and two killing intents locked onto her—both extremely powerful presences that posed a lethal threat.

Yet the more deadly situation was behind her. An almost imperceptible presence had crept to within thirty-five meters of her, decapitated her spotter with one stroke, and only then did Natasha perceive it.

This was undoubtedly a 17th-level magic shadow-walker with extraordinary stealth skills. Now standing not far behind her, staring intently, Natasha felt like a rabbit caught by a cobra.

She realized that even the slightest movement could bring death. The two 17S-level snipers and the magic shadow-walker behind her would do everything to kill her.

Damn it! Wasn’t it said that Nathan’s Hand wouldn’t intervene? The Wielenstein family’s attitude toward this Andre Lee Wielenstein was also ambiguous.

Currently, his subordinates were only the Sky Eye Howard Eisenhower and the Natural Punisher Dainn Stacy worth worrying about. But what was going on? Now, two 17S-level shooters were targeting her!

Her opponent should have been only Eisenhower. At his peak, this Sky Eye’s marksmanship had crossed the threshold of 19S. But six months ago, his fingers suffered irreversible damage, greatly affecting his shooting. As a fellow 17th-level magic shooter, Natasha was confident she could suppress him.

But today, the top shooters targeting her were not one, but two!

Just then, her mind stirred, and she looked down. There she saw Dainn Stacy, grinning at her with a friendly expression.

But ‘Sand Devil Gun’ Natasha drew in a cold breath. What the hell was going on? Why was Dainn here? What about ‘Dark Snake’ Mekon and ‘Poison Sword’ Lachar? And the entire Foxhound Mercenary Corps—twelve outlaw-level and sixty magic professionals?

A 17th-level magic shadow-walker sneaking up on her was acceptable. But Dainn, in her gleaming golden armor that could shine at night—how could those guys have missed her?

According to the pre-battle plan, this woman was supposed to be Mekon and Lachar’s responsibility. Two magic swordsmen should have been enough to fight her, at least to tie down Dainn Stacy.

But the next moment, her face turned pale and bloodless. She saw the head Dainn was holding—it was ‘Poison Sword’ Lachar’s!

Natasha felt goosebumps all over her body. A chilling current numbed her limbs, flowing through her.

That bastard Lachar—was he dead? Was that head real or fake? It didn’t look like a movie prop. Was she dreaming? Or had she encountered a powerful illusionist making her see things?

It had to be an illusion. How could the death of a 17th-level magic swordsman go completely unnoticed? Unless he was killed in one hit, without making a sound.

Was that possible? Absolutely not. Though she wasn’t a magic hunter with strong perception, magic killers were superior to most magic professions in that regard.

But two seconds later, Natasha let out a long breath, released her sniper rifle, and raised her hands.

“I surrender! Hey, Dainn, for old times’ sake, go easy on me, OK?”

She knew the Natural Punisher Dainn Stacy. When she was a mercenary in the Middle East, she had cooperated with Dainn twice.

Natasha considered herself just a mercenary and killer for hire. There was no need to die for this mission.