Chapter 20
Bang!
The gunshot exploded across Leyton Street, shattering the early-night chill.
By the time the sound reached Room 503 in the Leyton Hotel, it had become muffled and distant.
In the dark room, Alex's eyes snapped open. A cold, razor-sharp light flashed in his gaze as an ominous feeling surged through his chest.
His body, already coiled and ready, moved instantly. He shot upright from the chair, his tall, lean figure crossing the room in two powerful strides. The rush of air disturbed the stuffy atmosphere as he reached the window and ripped the heavy patterned curtains open.
The full moon poured down its silvery glow, illuminating half of his face hidden in shadow.
He looked like a demon emerging from darkness, his cold eyes stabbing down onto Leyton Street like twin swords.
Danton Black's arrogant, mocking laughter entered Alex's sight.
At that exact moment, Danton — with his arms spread wide and a wild grin on his face — casually lifted his gaze. He saw a figure behind the glass of his own hotel room window, half-lit by the moonlight, staring down at him with icy detachment like a ghost in the dark.
There was an ambush waiting.
Danton Black and Alex's eyes met under the full moon. A chill ran down Danton's spine as cold sweat instantly soaked his back.
He had nearly walked straight into a trap. If he had returned to his room, he would have been caught red-handed.
Ironically, Al Swan's sudden arrival had saved his life.
"Thank you, officer!"
Thirty or forty identical Danton Blacks filled the street. The sight of so many identical faces created an overwhelming, almost hallucinatory impact.
Al Swan froze for a split second, gun still raised, momentarily unsure which one to shoot.
In that instant, Danton's duplicates multiplied again. Over a hundred identical figures surged out from the crowd and spread out in a fan shape, dashing toward different alleys.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Al Swan quickly regained his composure. As an elite officer, he unleashed a rapid barrage from his M9 pistol.
Each shot produced a flash of fire. Every Danton Black hit collapsed to the ground, dissolving into acidic liquid with rising wisps of smoke. Al Swan's face grew uglier with every miss.
He knew he had screwed up.
"Damn it!"
A surge of rage boiled through Alex's blood. His heart pounded like a war drum, the furious rhythm echoing in his ears. He almost wanted to crush Al Swan to death with his bare hands.
From his vantage point on the fifth floor, Alex watched the confrontation below. In just a few seconds, Danton had expanded into over a hundred duplicates that scattered like a fan, fleeing into the maze of alleys.
Suppressing the urge to kill Al Swan on the spot, Alex coldly observed the escape routes of roughly eighty duplicates from his window. His mind instantly ran triangle positioning calculations and estimated distances, locking onto a general range.
After the rapid mental computation, Alex shot one last icy glare at Al Swan on the street below. He would settle accounts with him later. For now, he turned away, suppressed his anger, and exploded into motion.
Boom!
A massive crash echoed through the Leyton Hotel.
Driven by pure fury, Alex charged forward like a human tyrannosaurus. He smashed straight through the solid wooden electronic door, sending splinters flying around his raging figure. His cold eyes locked onto the window at the end of the fifth-floor hallway. Without slowing down, he sprinted toward it.
He didn't bother hacking the system again — time was too critical. Smashing through was the fastest way out.
Ring… Ring…
At the same time, the hotel's fire alarm began blaring.
Amid the wailing sirens, Alex's figure raced down the fifth-floor corridor at full speed. He didn't slow for even a fraction of a second. Like a rampaging truck, he crossed his arms in front of his face and crashed through the glass window.
The sound of shattering glass mixed with the fire alarm.
Alex's tall figure curled slightly as he leaped into the air, glass shards sparkling like silver under the moonlight around him. His cold, ruthless eyes gleamed behind his crossed arms as he sailed over ten meters of street and landed on the rooftop of the adjacent four-story building.
The moonlight bathed him in soft silver light. His silhouette resembled a sleek silver leopard — graceful yet full of explosive power. He rolled smoothly across the cold rooftop to absorb the impact, then sprang up and exploded forward with powerful leg strength.
The cold wind cut across his sharp face like knives. The teardrop mole beneath his left eye added an icy, seductive charm under the moonlight. His black hair whipped wildly in the wind. Beneath those flying strands, his dark eyes swept across every building, memorizing the layout as a pursuit route formed instantly in his mind.
With agile movements, he used his hands to vault over railings. His clothes flapped loudly in the wind, occasionally revealing the bright silver gleam of the Desert Eagle tucked at his waist.
He leaped from rooftop to rooftop. In one of the alleys below, a fleeing figure appeared in his peripheral vision.
Bang!
Like an experienced eagle, Alex continued his lightning-fast pursuit across the rooftops, looking down at the duplicates. The moment he spotted a back, he drew the Desert Eagle and fired. The duplicate collapsed, dissolving into acidic liquid with rising smoke. It was just another clone.
Alex didn't stop or even glance at the dissolving body. He had no doubt about his accuracy — over a hundred thousand rounds of training had given him rock-solid shooting ability even while moving at full speed.
What he needed now was to chase down as many duplicates as possible.
He knew the moment of luck had arrived.
Since he couldn't yet identify the real body, he could only kill as many duplicates as possible and hope one of them was the original.
His figure flashed like silver lightning under the moon, leaping gracefully from rooftop to rooftop. The continuous gunshots from his Desert Eagle blended with his swift movements, turning him into a moonlight reaper with a gun.
The nonstop gunfire finally drew Al Swan's attention.
Al Swan turned his head. His pupils dilated as he sucked in a sharp breath, staring fixedly at the figure on the rooftops.
Under the large, bright moon, a cold silhouette moved with arrogant grace across the rooftops. He leaped exaggerated distances between buildings with clean, explosive speed. The Desert Eagle in his hand spat flames as he harvested targets. He looked like a silver, icy god of death — his face cold yet seductively beautiful, the moonlight outlining his lethal charm and drawing everyone's eyes.
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