Apocalyptic Disaster: I Hoard Billions in Supplies and Kill the Saint

72: Chapter 72 Destroying the Evil Nest”I’ll breach the door.”

Zhao Wei said softly, as if mentioning a routine chore.

Zhang Tianjin checked his pistol, swapped in 9mm high-penetration rounds, and loaded the magazine, his movements as precise as a machine.

Sun Hao crouched halfway by the flue, locking the attachment ring, ”I’ll sync up and enter through the kitchen vent.”

”The target room connects to the main hall from the back kitchen, perfect for a pincer maneuver.” He put on his thermal imaging goggles.

Ye Nanxing tightened the zipper of her trench coat, fastened the last magnetic clasp, and spoke in a calm, lethal tone:

”Coordinate the tactical sequence.”

”Zhao Wei, open the door and throw a smoke grenade immediately—Zhang Tianjin and I will advance to clear the room.”

”Sun Hao, breach from the rear, prioritizing the secondary bedroom and side corners.”

”Everyone use suppressed pistols and thermal imaging for coordinated combat. End it within five minutes.”

Zhou Cheng’s fingers moved rapidly, his tone sharper than a blade:

”The 307 door lock signal has been hijacked. You won’t trigger any alarms when you breach.”

”The space behind the door is four and a half meters deep, with a sofa in the corner and a shoe cabinet to the right of the entrance.”

”Eight seconds after throwing the grenade, the smoke will fill the room, with 90% clarity maintained on thermal imaging.”

”The targets lack night combat experience and have no tactical defense.”

Zhao Wei took a deep breath.

”Ready to breach.”

With a ”thud,” the sound of the door bolt shattering had just faded.

Inside the room, a flat-topped man huddled on the sofa gnawing on chicken feet froze, his hand not yet raised, when he saw a cloud of thick smoke explode from outside the door!

”Fuck! What’s going on—”

The next second, Zhao Wei’s smoke grenade detonated with a muffled ”bang,” and the entire room was instantly engulfed in white fog, reducing visibility to less than a meter!

”Something’s wrong! There’s... choking, choking to death! Cough, cough, cough—”

The five men, who had been lounging in the room playing cards and bragging, were stunned by the surprise attack.

The man on the sofa’s first reaction was to stand up and reach for a stick by the door, but as soon as he moved, he was locked onto by Zhang Tianjin’s thermal imaging.

Bang, bang, bang!

Three shots in rapid succession, the muzzle not wavering in the slightest—a hole in his forehead, spine shattered, he collapsed in place with his chair, half a sunflower seed shell still in his mouth.

Beside the refrigerator, a short, fat man was preparing to flee, but he ran headlong into the corner of an overturned table, rolling on the ground in a pathetic display, unable to even open his eyes:

”I... fuck, who shot? Who hit me?”

”Did the northern gang come to collect debts?!”

”Get the knives! Get the fucking knives out!!”

As he scrambled to his feet, Ye Nanxing slipped in from the side, bang! The gunshot was like a cold wind cutting through bone, one shot into his shoulder, instantly rendering the entire arm useless!

”Agh—!!”

He had just opened his mouth to scream when a second bang struck his throat, shattering his windpipe and cutting his voice off in mid-air.

At the bedroom door, a man with a scar on his forehead instinctively pulled a half-rusted fruit knife from under the bed, attempting to lunge forward:

”Fuck you! Who are you?! Ah—!!”

The thermal imaging red dot lit up, and Sun Hao fired two shots in succession, pap! pap!

One into the chest, one into the neck!

A low moan like a wild dog emanated from the man’s throat, his feet slipped, and he crashed into the wall, twitching as he slowly collapsed to the ground, still clutching the knife handle as he died.

The remaining two were in a complete panic.

One of them hadn’t even pulled up his pants, his eyes still clouded with a lingering haze, and he shrieked with a cracked voice:

”Old Li! Old Li—are they from the military?! Is it the Inspection Department?! Ah!!”

The other, a tall and thin man, turned and lunged toward the balcony, screaming frantically:

”Fuck you, I’m not going to jail!! I’d rather jump off the building!!”

”Zhao Wei!” Ye Nanxing barked coldly.

”Here!” Zhao Wei responded like a roar!

”Whoosh—!”

The bowstring twanged, and an arrow tore through the thick fog, precisely piercing the tall, thin man’s knee and pinning him to the balcony railing!

The man convulsed violently, the sound of his leg bone shattering piercingly loud!

”Aaaah—I was wrong! Fuck, fuck, I was wrong!!”

”Don’t kill me! I won’t do it again! Spare my life—”

His voice grew higher and higher, like the screeching of a chicken being slaughtered.

Ye Nanxing ignored him, walked up, and fired a shot.

Bang.

Headshot.

The world went quiet.

The blood mist hadn’t yet dissipated, and the smell of gunpowder and cold air intertwined into a pungent odor in the room.

Ye Nanxing slowly holstered her gun, stepping over the corpses on the floor as she walked toward the bedroom door.

Zhang Tianjin rushed in one step ahead, his muzzle cutting through the air, his gaze sharp as an eagle’s, scanning the surroundings—

By the side of the bedroom bed, a girl was curled into a ball, her thin body almost sinking into a pile of messy blankets, her hands chafed raw and bloodied, her lips drained of color.

The moment the light hit her, she closed her eyes subconsciously, her body instinctively recoiling, looking exactly like an animal that had been repeatedly brutalized.

Her first reaction was to cover her head and scream: ”Don’t hit me!! Please, I was wrong!!”

”I am not with them.”

”Don’t be afraid.” Sun Hao crouched down and said softly.

He began to untie the ropes on her hands; every time he tugged, the girl’s shoulders would twitch, not because of pain, but because of—

Fear.

”Can... can I still live?” Her voice was hoarse, like a rusted knife scraping in her throat.

Sun Hao’s hand paused, unable to bear it.

”Of course.”

The girl’s eyes were unfocused, yet she stared fixedly at his face, as if the moment she let go, she would immediately sink back into an endless nightmare.

”...Thank you.”

After saying these two words, her eyes rolled back, and she passed out completely.

Sun Hao gently caught her body and carried her out horizontally.

The snow-light from outside shone in, and his eyes were colder than the snow.

Zhang Tianjin followed behind, casually pulling back a corner of the curtain to let the dim, gray morning snow-light slant into the room.

The air was still filled with the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Ye Nanxing scanned the corpses in the room to confirm, then finally walked step by step toward the bedroom.

That bedroom door was wide open, with bloodstains extending from inside to the outside.

She stood at the doorway, her brows knitting slightly.

Zhang Tianjin also walked over, lowering his voice: ”The last one—we saw her breathing just a moment ago.”

On the floor lay the woman who had been dragged into the bedroom when the girl went crazy and resisted, and who had been beaten in turns by the five men.

Her face was beaten so badly it was almost unrecognizable, with dried blood still at the corners of her mouth, her hands bound, her abdomen swollen with a large bruise, and her breathing had long since stopped.

Sun Hao walked up and gently checked for her breath.

Then, in silence, he stood up straight and shook his head slightly at Ye Nanxing.

”A step too late.”

Ye Nanxing walked to the woman’s side, crouched down, gently pulled her messy clothes into place, and brushed her scattered hair back to the side of her face.

The woman had already lost her body heat, but her expression was frozen in a near-numb angle, like a shattered porcelain doll.

”I shouldn’t have hesitated,” she said softly, her tone revealing a rare sense of self-reproach.

Zhang Tianjin replied coldly: ”It’s not your fault, it’s theirs.”

”The real fault lies with this world.”

Over here, Zhao Wei grabbed one in each hand, dragging out the two girls who had been huddled in the corner of the sofa like lumps of mud.

They still wore a look of deliberately cultivated ”pitifulness,” with loose clothing, messy hair, and pale lips, appearing so weak they were about to faint.